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Showing posts from January, 2017

How to Survive 2017 with some Sanity and Self-Care

This week, whilst getting my eyebrows waxed, I found myself debating the best ways to survive a nuclear apocalypse and I realised that 2017 is really doing a number on me. All of a sudden I’m anxious about the fact that I stopped watching 'The Walking Dead' after season two and I don't know how to open cans of beans without the use of my left-handed tin opener. I am a terrible millennial who survives on 'Sushi to Go' lunches and next day delivery purchases, and I know I am completely unprepared for what is about to happen in Post Brexit Britain. For someone who experiences anxiety in most situations in my life this current state of world affairs is really distorting my chi. I’m about two signed executive orders from locking myself in a cupboard with a box of pinot and waiting for Will Smith to come and rescue me. 
If like me, you're are feeling the pressures of the tiny handed Cheetos world domination and you need to find a way to calm your knickers before you s…

Am I just Greedy? A Binge Eater's Confession:

I sat in bed, the duvet wrapped around me as I tried to distract myself with the images on the screen. I placed a hand on my chest as wave upon wave of anxiety flooded across my body. My skin tightened, my heart quickened and the pain entwined itself around my chest and through my ribs. My mind raced, as I tried to manage the pain, and then, I thought about the twenty-pound note that sat in my wallet and I felt the breath squeeze out of my chest as a smoky fog of calm encircled me. I pulled clothes over the top of my pyjamas and I was in the car, the dark smog pushing me forward as I drove to the local corner shop. Under the shadow of the darkness, I filled my basket with crisps, chocolate and fizzy drinks and handed over the crisp note to the cashier. Once home, I ripped off my clothes and spread the food around me and I climbed back into the bed and began to gorge. My mind finally distracted by the TV, I placed piece of food after food into my mouth, not tasting it, not smelling it,…

New Year, same perfectly imperfect me.

As a teenager, I used to love the start of the autumn term. I wasn't plagued by the fear of a new start, a return to school and the hellish routine of a double math’s lesson. Instead I embraced the clean slate, the new beginnings and the unblemished, untouched, perfectly lined new notebooks.

I loved a new notebook. Normally covered in wallpaper (why did we do that?), a new notebook was a symbol of perfection, completely undamaged by my doodles, spelling mistakes and scrawled handwriting. Each term I would promise myself that this year I would keep this notebook perfect. The first time I would write in it, I would ensure my handwriting was neat and precise, a splendid array of perfectly crossed 't's' and love heart dotted 'i's'. Ultimately, this attempt at perfection dwindled by page 2, as I made my first spelling mistake and I would pull out my Tipex and sponge over the imperfections in hope of erasing them, but it was never quite the same. On occasions, I w…