As the new year begins I can’t help but reflect on the past year and wonder what the future one will hold. I’m slowly learning to be mindful that reflecting too much and wondering too much about the future can lead to excessive overthinking. I’ve always been an over thinker and while I enjoy it sometimes, it can also lead to negative thought patterns. I’m trying to be present.

I always set new years resolutions but I very seldom stick to them and that’s ok. I’ve never been one for the ‘new year, new me’ crap. I don’t change myself every year, I change throughout the years. I’ve never looked back on previous years and thought ‘yes that was my year, what a great year it was’. The truth is every year is great and exceptionally bad at the same time. Too think someone can be truly happy and fulfilled every day of the year seems impossible to me; if you’ve found that, then well done you.

I set new years resolutions in the hope of changing the things I didn’t like the previous year. I always set the resolution of getting fit and losing weight, but I never stick to the plan I put in place to achieve that; I must have countless exercise plans I’ve made in the past, that are half finished or forgotten. I also always say I’ll read more and watch less TV/ netflix but the only time I really ever get any proper reading done is on Holiday. So this year I’m going to carry on setting these resolutions in the hope I stick to them, but If I don’t then that’s fine too; I’m a work in progress. We all have things we want to change about ourselves, flaws we hope we can better, we’re are own biggest critic. I’m taking the pressure off myself, I’m far from perfect and sometimes far from happy, but this year I’m going to learn to accept myself and fall in love with me again.

Here are my new years resolutions:

• Pass my driving test
• Get fit (for my mind and body)
• Complete a swimathon or half marathon
• Stop comparing myself to strangers on Instagram
• Travel to places I haven’t been before
• Read and write more
• Save money
• Practice meditation
• Turn off my phone an hour before bed

This is kind of scary for me to write because to this day I still haven’t told people why the worst day of life was so…. until now.

I was in 6th form, I was in year 13 and studying Dance A Level, Dance BTEC and photography A Level. I only got two of those grades in the end and that was two B’s for Dance BTEC. I had to drop out of dance A level in the last term because I was clinically depressed and thus hugely unreliable. I couldn’t afford to miss rehearsals, I wasn’t the only one in the performance; my course work was hugely behind also. For photography I got an E which is actually a pass, but it’s never felt particularly boastful considering it’s a subject I love, I’ve never included it on my CV.

So the worst day of my life started two weeks before; so I suppose I should say the worst two weeks of my life, but I spent 13 days of that hiding in my room and avoiding school and anyone in it for that matter, at all costs. We just finished the dance show us year 13’s had created, produced and directed. I remember we were in the changing rooms and my best friend at the time was doing my hair. As she was clipping it ‘she shouted (or said quite loudly, I remember it as a shout) what’s that black things in your hair, look there’s two of them’. I immediately froze and thought ‘shit!! have I got nits?!’. I brushed my friend off pretty quickly and rushed home as soon as I could; and sure enough I had nits. So naturally this resulted in me isolating myself from everything in my world except my family and thoroughly inspecting my hair for nits until they were all gone.

The morning of the worst day of my life I was in such a state I couldn’t even put my socks on. Getting in the shower alone felt like climbing up a continuous ladder. I was so anxious I could hear and feel my heart pumping against my chest. I was attempting school for the first time in two weeks, with the fear that everyone would know I had had nits. I was terrified I would be called nitty Nora. The same shameful name the primary school bully used hurl at any child scratching their head. My sister took me to school and walked me straight up to the dance office. I felt like an animal walking to its slaughter. Once I was in the dance office word must have got out that I was in school as four of my best friends came rushing over, the gems that they are. That instantly released some of the tension in my chest but not enough for it to feel comfortable. The heads of sixth form (or the pastoral manager, I can’t remember her title) came and met me and we had a chat in a quiet office. Though you couldn’t really call it a chat as I said about 5 words. I was sure we were only in there for 10 minutes but apparently we sat there for an hour.

Eventually we went up to the 6th form office. I remember sitting outside waiting to be called in and a friend/acquaintance walked by and said ‘ness, are you ok?’, with the most frightful look on her face. I must have looked as bad as I felt. Anyway, in the meeting plans were made to reduce stress and support was put into place. My school were so kind and accommodating to me during this time, I’m very grateful for that. To my relieve, they sent me home afterwards.

I think I went back to school the next day and alas, all my fears of being called nitty Nora disappeared and of course, all my friends were lovely and everyone was genuinely glad to see me and glad that I was ok. And that meant everything.

So the there you have it the worst day of my life and when I read back through this it doesn’t sound that bad, kind of silly really. But if people could feel what I was feeling and thinking, they would probably say it was the worst day of their life’s too.

I’ve travelled to 23 countries during my 24 years on this earth and I’ve loved every single one. The excitement of exploring a new place and immersing myself in new cultures has always been a strong passion of mine. Last year I embarked on a new adventure, one that had been in the pipeline for quite sometime. In February of 2017 I set out for India with my sister, later going onto Nepal, Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia. It was both good and bad.

Most people ‘find themselves’ when they go travelling, they discover who they really are, maybe figure out what they want to do with their lives and find a deeper connection to themselves. In hindsight I do feel like I learnt a lot from my trip but at the time I remember feeling very lost and lonely.

One of the worst parts of the trip, which should have been one of the best parts, was seeing the Himalayas. Don’t get me wrong the Himalayas were breathtakingly beautiful and I was completely in awe at the nature around me; but  my sister and I were in the middle of a huge argument, I’d climbed up several mountains over 3 days and I ached, I’d woken up at 3am to climb up the last of the mountain in the dark and to top it off I had a horrible sinus infection. I remember looking out at the snow covered peaks of the Himalayas and feeling so incredibly alone. I just wanted the trek to end as soon as possible so I could have some decent WiFi and face time my boyfriend. 

The last two weeks of my trip my boyfriend came out to join us. It was one of the happiest moments of my trip. I’d obviously missed him terribly and seeing him after 4 months apart felt incredible. We spent the first week exploring Siem Reap, temple hopping and celebrating his 21st birthday. Life was perfect. Though the second week I started to feel down and it confused me so much because here my boyfriend was, finally after all this time, all I had wanted and I didn’t even want to leave the hotel room. It didn’t get really bad until I had to say goodbye to my sister. My boyfriend and I were going back to Bangkok to fly home and my sister and her girlfriend at the time carried on travelling. 

After I left her I felt even more lost then I had throughout the whole trip. We’d had a hard time, we’re such close sisters and always have been, but we’d had a pretty tough ride travelling together. I new they’d be arguments because we’re sisters and of course we’d argue spending 24/7 with each other. I remember leaving her and just feeling so sorry for all the bad stuff that had happened. So I left her feeling like there were important words left unsaid. Mostly that I loved her and she was still my best friend. 

When my boyfriend and I finally arrived in Bangkok after the long Journey from Ko Phangan, I completely  isolated myself from everything. I was at a real low, like none other I’d felt throughout the whole trip. This wasn’t just feeling lonely, this was raw, terrifying depression. During the four days we had in Bangkok, we only left the hotel room to go 100 meters down the road to get food. We did go out for one full day, which was nice, but I remember my anxiety was at boiling point. We spent the rest of the time watching Netflix, I felt awful about it. When we finally arrived home in England, I was relived and as soon as I arrived at my house, I suddenly started to feel better. It was all very bizarre. 

Travelling wasn’t all bad times, far from it. I climbed mountains, I saw wild rhinos and bears, I went on a yoga retreat, I danced in the streets, I experienced Holi,  I met many monkeys (my fav), I saw the Ganges, I swam in many pools and seas and lagoons, I went to Songkran, I kayaked down the Mekong river, I jumped of boats in Ha Long Bay, I went zorbing, I read so many books, I made unforgettable friends, I swung in many hammocks, I jumped off a 140 meter high bridge into a cannon, I zip lined, I played lots of beer pong, I won a fire limbo competition, I learnt so much history, I danced on bars, I danced on top of a boat in the torrential rain, I danced on pool tables, I danced a lot and I laughed until I peed. I had an amazing time, but you can’t appreciate the amazing times without the bad.

So I guess I lost myself travelling, but I found myself when I came home. 

Without books the human race would be a mess, heck, I would be a mess. Books aren’t just simply something we read, they’re something we immerse ourselves in, an alternate reality we can live and imagine. They teach, they inform and they make us believe.

When I’ve been at my lowest, battling through dark dark days, books have been that beacon of light that helps me get through. When I’ve been low in the past, I find it hard to even concentrate on the TV, my mind wonders off and plays over all my worries and anxiety’s in my head. It’s simply background noise, something to keep my thoughts company. But books, books I have to concentrate on the words, even if I do have to read the same sentence 10 times over for it to go in. My worries and anxieties are temporarily pushed to the side. Even just for short while, my brain isn’t a tangled mess and that is a relieve. Most of all books made me realise I wasn’t alone, that thousands of people have felt similar things and thought unspeakable things, just like I have.

Books don’t just help me on my lows but they also have helped me when I’ve experienced highs. When I’m on a high, the best way I can describe it, is  like you’ve had 20 espressos in the space of a morning. It makes you jittery, its makes your thoughts race and oh boy does it deprive you off sleep. Sleep is like climate change in Donald Trump eyes; it just doesn’t exist. So when I’m struggling through the night, a book is a welcome friend, it keeps me company until I hear the morning birds sing and I think right, time to start a new day, except it’s the same day spread across 48 hours. Books are quiet, they won’t wake anyone else up, yet they demand my attention. Books slow down my mind and take my thoughts back to a normal speed.

A list of books that have saved my life:

• Out of the dark by Linda Caine
• Looking for Alaska by John Green
• Reasons to stay alive by Matt Haig
• Notes on a nervous planet by Matt Haig
• The Truth Pixie by Matt Haig
• Mad Girl by Bryony Gordan
• Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet
• The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
• The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

These are the ones I think of off the top of my head, there is most definitely more.

In the words of one of my favourite authors “Every time I read a great book I felt I was reading a kind of map, a treasure map, and the treasure I was being directed to was in actual fact myself.”- Matt Haig- Reasons to Stay Alive.

I have suffered with bipolar/ depression since I was 16. I’ve had various job since then and have experienced low or high episodes at least once in every role I’ve taken on. Usually when I’m going through a low mood, I will lie to my employer and say I’ve got a sickness bug or migraine. It’s easier. However, one time, my anxiety and low mood was going on for longer than I had the energy to continue lying about it.

I had taken on a new role late last year (2017), one which was almost foreign to me. I must have been doing well because after my probation and I got a promotion. Soon afterwards I started to feel anxious. I had no idea what I was doing it felt. I had so many tasks and no tools to complete them. My boss had always said “just tell me what training you need”. This just gave me more anxiety, I didn’t know what training was available and going back to my first post… I hate asking for help. I’m slowly getting better at it though.

When I finally mustered up the courage to be honest with my boss, I told him my anxiety towards my role was stopping me from coming to work. I remember I would dread going to work, so much that I’d feel physically sick and nauseous. My boss was lovely at first, he took some workload off me and told me to carry on doing only what I was comfortable with. After this I felt immediately better and relieved. Shortly after they asked for a medical report from my doctor. I was happy to provide them with it and thought it would help them understand a bit more.

That was not the case. In my medical report my GP stated my bipolar diagnosis which wasn’t official at the time. My boss immediately called me into a meeting and gave me two options. The first was to go down the capability route where they’d assess whether I was capable to carry out my role. The second was for me to resign, they’d pay me a month’s wage and I wouldn’t have to work my notice. I took the latter.

I left that meeting feeling extremely worthless, like I’d never find a career that I would excel in, like no employer would ever take me on, like I’d never be able to be successful within a stressful environment.  I hit rock bottom and couldn’t even muster the energy to try and confront them about it. I withdrew into myself, isolated myself from everyone and everything. Only later would I feel the rage and anger at the situation and the utter discrimination I felt. I’d never want to work for a company that disregarded and shamed mental health issues. So in the end I left that company feeling somewhat relieved.

If this was a physical illness, I’m sure I would have been treated differently.

Like with any illness, mental or physical, you can’t drink or smoke. Well you can but it’s ‘not recommended’. When my GP told me this I thought ‘to hell with that’. Im a 17 year old girl, this is precisely the time you do those things. Sure enough I did everything that wasn’t recommended and though there’s things I look back on and think ‘what on earth are you doing’, I wouldn’t change anything. Not one single thing.

I partied. I partied hard and cheaply and incredibly. The local club was my equivalent to commuters coffees in the morning. I needed it. Not because I was addicted to any substances, luckily I don’t have an addictive personality, I was just addicted to having fun and letting my hair down. I let my hair down 5 nights a week sometimes and without a doubt every weekend for 2 years. I bloody loved it. Yes, it’s not the healthiest life style but who does at that age. I was temp working, I could afford to miss the Friday off work (which was often), to go to my favourite event and be a big kid whilst doing adult things. The club staff became my friends and the regulars my little family. I met amazing people, some I’m still so close too, some I care about but don’t see anymore and some I’d gladly put them in a box (a breathable one) and throw them out to sea. I subconsciously chose to hang around with people I didn’t truly care about because I was so tired of letting down the people I did.

Though it all comes at a price. When I was high I’d do very stupid things (no wonder my loved ones were worried) like go back to strangers houses, people I just met. But when I think about this I feel I have a pretty decent sense of wether people are good or bad. My spider senses tingle when I feel in danger. One night my best friend and I went to the worst night club in Maidstone. She went out the wrong door and couldn’t get let back in, she disappeared, I soon left and went to the taxi stand. Sure enough at the taxi stand there was a group of guys we’d joked with earlier in the night, they asked me if I wanted to go back with them. I had £10 to my name… I thought about it and then went with one of my favourite but dangerous sayings ‘f*** it’. The guys who’s house it was was a millionaire, the guys were lovely and gave me my own room. Though they’d shown me a world I’d never seen. We stayed up till 4am playing pool and doing whatever we wanted really. It was fun and a memorable night but in hindsight those 4 guys could have been anyone.

I’d be lying if I said I don’t think that getting drunk and partying is a good form of release, it was for me, but you HAVE to know your limits. You need to know when to call it a night and just go home- I’m still struggling with that last bit.

”Music is the answer”.

Social media… saint or sinner, love it or hate it, we’re all addicted in some form or another; whether it’s for posting or just browsing.

During the ages of 16-18 I started to feel these unfamiliar feelings, I can’t describe them because I’m still trying to understand them and I’m not a computer, I can’t store everything I feel or experience, not all memories are forever.

At the age of 16/17 I started 6th form, at which time I’d only started anti depressants 1 month before. I remember that first day was an anxiety filled torture, as I’m sure it was for others. The outfit stress alone was enough! The first few weeks or maybe months went ok and then I started experiencing these ‘highs’. My thoughts would race and I had insomnia. Some days I’d come to school on 0 hours of sleep. I was a mess at times and I’m sure very entertaining from an outsiders perspective. The highs would almost always come straight after the lows and now I see why. You have these lows, these dark dark days of struggling to even have a shower, let alone go to school and actually socialise and try to figure out the rest of my life; and then you would suddenly (and I mean suddenly) feel brighter, more positive. I would be so overjoyed to feel ok and have my life back that I’d want everything that I’ve been thinking of doing as soon as possible. In fear of going back to those ‘4 walls’. The 4 walls being your bedroom, you’re most comfortable place and yet your hell at night.

So I had all these thoughts, fears, ideas, excitement and absolute overwhelming frustration. When everyone was using social media for similar things (expression, release, whatever), why couldn’t I use them too? And use them I did. My world was so open to everyone I knew (so it seemed) people knew when I was down because I was vacant and people knew when I was high (I was dancing on tables for Christ sake). I remember one time I’d had roughly 10 hours sleep in 5 days, I posted a status something like “having the worst Wednesday” and something commented “it’s Tuesday”. That person was just stating a fact and only because that comment got more likes than my status I felt anxious about it all night. How ridiculous is that?! Not so ridiculous when I think about it because I felt that and those feelings were valid to me. Everything we feel is valid no matter how irrational it is because the world only exists in our minds. Every time I messed up or did something embarrassing there it was plain on screen for me and the world to see. Though it’s tough and shamefully embarrassing to look back on those times , I’m glad they’re there and it’s documented because it allows me to see what year and what month I was high because unfortunately a time line matters. If you get professional help (I should say if you can find it), then they’ll ask you what year and month did you feel this? And it’s like what? I’m here to find out why I’m the way I am and you’re asking me when I felt these things? I can’t even remember what I ate for lunch 2 days ago, how am I supposed to remember what month and year I felt low or high? I was ill after all! I doubt anyone records what month or year they had that nasty stomach bug that was going around. So I guess social media is good for expressing yourself as long as you’re strong enough to deal with the backlash. Back then I most certainly wasn’t, but I’m so happy to say I am now.

My lows would be so low and the torture I’d put myself through to make the decision to go to that party or that meal or whatever was unbelievable. I’ve found the longer you put something off the worse it gets and when you finally do that thing you’ve been stressing over and realise that actually it wasn’t so bad, you start to heal.

In the words of one of my favourite musicians… “get up, get down and get outside”.