To my dearest darling Chloe,
This post is dedicated to you because you've asked so many times that's actually annoying. But considering I promised I guess I owe you that much and a lot more because you're just so fab.
To any readers who are thinking who is Chloe? well I'll tell you! Chloe is a 5 foot tall girl with close to 400 freckles on her face and as beautiful as she is on the outside she's even prettier on the inside. Chloe has a heart of gold, most of the time ;) and she listens to me moan about life at 3 in the morning and no matter how many times I go on and on about the same rubbish she still doesn't tell me to shut up.
So Chloe, this post is kind of a thank-you. A thank you for being one of the few people I can trust, a thank you for sending me raps and pictures of spud a thank you for everything you've done for me with out realizing it. You are an absolute gem and I don't know where I would be without you to be honest. I honestly hope that one day you'll be super happy and that I can help you as much as you've helped me.
You're amazing Miss Mehta and I sincerely hope that you'll realize that one day as well as realizing how beautiful you are. So, 3 cheers to you, mate just for being you!
Hip hip, hooray!
Hip hip, hooray!
Hip hip, hooray!
Wednesday 29 May 2013
Tuesday 28 May 2013
Procrastination
I should be doing my college work, but it's too hard and i'm too dumb. So instead i'm playing candy crush, listening to this and writing a blog post because of an ignorant tweet. If this makes the slightest bit of sense then that's wonderful
But here is my wonderful rant about a tweet a saw saying "I wish I was anorexic", I'm assuming they mean they wish they were skinny. Anorexic isn't a synonym for skinny, is that clear? Eating disorders come in one size, and it isn't skinny. It's miserable. Whether you fit into size 0 jeans or size 30 jeans you will be miserable and that is guaranteed.
Anorexia isn't all rainbows and butterflies it isn't all thighgaps, hip bones and male attention. Anorexia isn't a magical cure for all your problems, anorexia isn't beautiful or glamorous or something to strive towards. So why oh why would you wish a mental illness upon yourself, a mental illness in which 1 in 5 sufferers will die prematurely. Anorexia isn't the definition of skinny, happy and beautiful. Anorexia isn't having a bikini body, feeling comfortable in your own skin or the latest in-fashion accessory.
Anorexia is, on the other hand, clumps of hair falling out while lanugo hair grows on your face and arms. It is never being good enough for yourself. It is skipping meals and lying to those closest to you. It's shivering in the middle of summer because your body cant keep you warm. It's hating your body, stepping on scales that weigh your self-worth. It's nights spent crying because you ate more than 100 calories. It's family members and friends stood watching feeling helpless as you dig yourself an early grave with your own knife and fork. It's thinking about food 24/7 but not having the courage to eat it. It's infertility, malnutrition, heart failure, death.
Wishing an eating disorder upon yourself is stupid, rant over.
But here is my wonderful rant about a tweet a saw saying "I wish I was anorexic", I'm assuming they mean they wish they were skinny. Anorexic isn't a synonym for skinny, is that clear? Eating disorders come in one size, and it isn't skinny. It's miserable. Whether you fit into size 0 jeans or size 30 jeans you will be miserable and that is guaranteed.
Anorexia isn't all rainbows and butterflies it isn't all thighgaps, hip bones and male attention. Anorexia isn't a magical cure for all your problems, anorexia isn't beautiful or glamorous or something to strive towards. So why oh why would you wish a mental illness upon yourself, a mental illness in which 1 in 5 sufferers will die prematurely. Anorexia isn't the definition of skinny, happy and beautiful. Anorexia isn't having a bikini body, feeling comfortable in your own skin or the latest in-fashion accessory.
Anorexia is, on the other hand, clumps of hair falling out while lanugo hair grows on your face and arms. It is never being good enough for yourself. It is skipping meals and lying to those closest to you. It's shivering in the middle of summer because your body cant keep you warm. It's hating your body, stepping on scales that weigh your self-worth. It's nights spent crying because you ate more than 100 calories. It's family members and friends stood watching feeling helpless as you dig yourself an early grave with your own knife and fork. It's thinking about food 24/7 but not having the courage to eat it. It's infertility, malnutrition, heart failure, death.
Wishing an eating disorder upon yourself is stupid, rant over.
Friday 17 May 2013
Reflections
It's been almost a year since I left school and it's scary how quick it's gone. It doesn't seem like 12 months since I was sat with Holly in science talking about Mrs Byrnes tights or something stupid like that. Anyway that's not the point. They say school years are the best years of your life, now after spending many months out of education I can easily say for me personally that isn't true.
I remember by the end of august thinking ''Crap, everyone else starts sixth form or college in a couple of week's time and here I am with out a plan''. And in some senses, I still don't have a plan. I struggled a lot and people made jokes about how I was being 'a bum' or 'a dosser' and I guess they were right. I had all that time to decide what I wanted to do (Okay, I did have a few hiccups along the way that made things harder) But I was willing to just sit at home instead and that's exactly what I did while all my peers did something with their lives.
While I loved staying in bed every single day while everyone else sat in boring lessons it also became lonely. I didn't speak to anyone or even leave the house much and my depression got worse. Anyway that's a whole different story, by the beginning of October I was volunteering in a community cafe. It was one day a week, which wasn't too bad because I still had six lie-ins but I hated it, I hated being with people, I hated strangers, I hated being anywhere that wasn't my bed. But unlike everything else i've done in my life, this i didn't just give up with after the first few weeks.
I didn't really notice until people mentioned but I've come so far from being the girl who stood in the cafe kitchen without making conversation, who wanted so badly to be anywhere but there. I actually enjoy being at the cafe now and I'd never of expected to have stuck it out this long (I honestly believe God has a lot to do with all of this). I've met wonderful people and achieved things I'd never in a million years thought that I would achieve. Things that even other people wouldn't expect me to have done.
So basically to conclude, school years aren't always the best years of your life. The end.
I remember by the end of august thinking ''Crap, everyone else starts sixth form or college in a couple of week's time and here I am with out a plan''. And in some senses, I still don't have a plan. I struggled a lot and people made jokes about how I was being 'a bum' or 'a dosser' and I guess they were right. I had all that time to decide what I wanted to do (Okay, I did have a few hiccups along the way that made things harder) But I was willing to just sit at home instead and that's exactly what I did while all my peers did something with their lives.
While I loved staying in bed every single day while everyone else sat in boring lessons it also became lonely. I didn't speak to anyone or even leave the house much and my depression got worse. Anyway that's a whole different story, by the beginning of October I was volunteering in a community cafe. It was one day a week, which wasn't too bad because I still had six lie-ins but I hated it, I hated being with people, I hated strangers, I hated being anywhere that wasn't my bed. But unlike everything else i've done in my life, this i didn't just give up with after the first few weeks.
I didn't really notice until people mentioned but I've come so far from being the girl who stood in the cafe kitchen without making conversation, who wanted so badly to be anywhere but there. I actually enjoy being at the cafe now and I'd never of expected to have stuck it out this long (I honestly believe God has a lot to do with all of this). I've met wonderful people and achieved things I'd never in a million years thought that I would achieve. Things that even other people wouldn't expect me to have done.
So basically to conclude, school years aren't always the best years of your life. The end.
Monday 6 May 2013
Caution: Mental Illness.
Why is mental health something that very few people seem able to talk about? There's more people with mental illness than there is with dandruff. I know a staggering amount of people with various mental illnesses who don't talk about it and struggle on their own. But why?
I'm well aware it's not the easiest subject to bring up, I know for me personally when my mind is screaming loudly my mouth falls silent. Why are we too ashamed to speak up when we are down? It isn't just the suffers who struggle to find the words though. It's the friends, family, colleagues of the person who also don't talk about it. - Ignoring that there is a problem, hoping someone else will help them, afraid to ask them how they are. But why?
Why is it if a person has the flu they'll gladly write a facebook status about how many times they've been sick and boast about the 6 boxes of tissues they've used in just one day. Or when a person breaks an arm it's covered in a brightly coloured cast that just screams 'Look at me!' and then they proclaim to all their friends "Sign my cast!". They aren't afraid to let someone know whats wrong with them, in some cases down to the most disgusting details.
So why is mental illness different? Now I'm not suggesting for a second that a self harmer should post a facebook status when they have the urge to hurt themselves or that a person with OCD should boast about the amount of time's they've washed their hands. But should they not be able to talk about it when they want, to who they want with out fearing judgement or ignorance?
I'm well aware it's not the easiest subject to bring up, I know for me personally when my mind is screaming loudly my mouth falls silent. Why are we too ashamed to speak up when we are down? It isn't just the suffers who struggle to find the words though. It's the friends, family, colleagues of the person who also don't talk about it. - Ignoring that there is a problem, hoping someone else will help them, afraid to ask them how they are. But why?
Why is it if a person has the flu they'll gladly write a facebook status about how many times they've been sick and boast about the 6 boxes of tissues they've used in just one day. Or when a person breaks an arm it's covered in a brightly coloured cast that just screams 'Look at me!' and then they proclaim to all their friends "Sign my cast!". They aren't afraid to let someone know whats wrong with them, in some cases down to the most disgusting details.
So why is mental illness different? Now I'm not suggesting for a second that a self harmer should post a facebook status when they have the urge to hurt themselves or that a person with OCD should boast about the amount of time's they've washed their hands. But should they not be able to talk about it when they want, to who they want with out fearing judgement or ignorance?
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