There is something so innately satisfying about opening a fresh new blog post. Especially after the most turbulent and emotionally draining semester I’ve experienced. It’s like finally coming home to a clean bed and crisp sheets waiting to be warmed up with your PJ pants and wooly socks (can you tell I love my bed?). In all seriousness, my hiatus was not warranted nor was it consented. It was forced upon me by the disastrous and malevolent witchery of the first semester of second year uni.

Those of you who follow me on Instagram will know that the past couple of months have not been kind to me, my soul, or my mental health. My depression reached a new low where I was unable to concentrate, get up from bed, or complete any work or studies. I slept for most of the day, crashed on my bed for three hours at a time after classes, slumped through work, and felt myself getting more and more lethargic and unhappy. 

Then came my eating disorder tendencies. And boy, have they come to fight. I was feeling increasingly more body conscious and weight-oriented as my work load and panic increased during exam season. I will honestly always say that recovery is the best option to renew your sense of life and purpose, but it is such a hard pill for me to swallow right now when my anorexia is making me miss what I used to look like: Skeletal, empty, hollow, lifeless, and void of hope. Because that’s how I feel internally, but it isn’t showing externally. And no one really notices you’re ill unless it manifests externally. But mental illnesses often don’t do that. That’s why they’re called mental illnesses. I miss the feeling of knowing I’m sick because I can see it. I miss people actually being concerned because my illness was something they could see. In my current state, I feel like a whiny child:

“Waaaaah, I’m stressed!”

“Waaaaah, I don’t want to eat!”

“Waaaaah, I don’t want to get out of bed!”

“Waaah, waaaah, WAAAAAAHHH!”

I feel like I am whining about nothing. With a roof over my head, food in the cupboards, two healthy and living parents who support me, loving family members, friends who look out for me, and a body to take me on incredible journeys, what do I have to be unhappy about? Children are being forcibly separated from their parents at country borders, our planet is suffocating under a dense pillow of plastic, and fake news about my own country is being spread around the world (literally, what white genocide???). Surely there are more important things that I should be focusing on rather than wallowing in self pity?

Now, that is a very cynical way to talk about mental illness- by comparing it to broader events. It makes your own unhappiness, depression, and anxiety seem so insignificant, and thus unworthy of attention and intervention. It can, however, also prove to be useful as a means of bringing yourself outside yourself. I have noticed that when I am having a depressive episode, I am rarely aware of what is happening around me. I become so swept away by the storm inside my head that I forget that I am not an island. I am not alone. I have people, nature, and resources all around me to help me through difficult times.

One of these people is Norman.

Norman and I have known each other for a year, and have been together for two months. He is one of my saviours. I cannot thank God and the universe enough for sending such a pure, selfless, golden hearted angel for me to hold and kiss. He is incredible, someone who oozes sunshine and wonder. Every time I am with him, I feel energised. I feel hopeful. I feel excited. I feel like dreaming, running, chasing my life, and living with no regrets. He is fire and I am water. We are from two different worlds, and yet we are what the other needs.

Norman has been helping me to find ways to combat these depressive, vegetative states that render me immobile, speechless, and void of every emotion other than echoing sadness and the sound of silence. We have workshopped plans to help me feel more worthy both within and without, and a way to make me more conscious inside my body, how it works, and how I can nourish and protect it for survival, and not try to manipulate it for vanity or sickness. These plans include gym, getting my drivers license, a new job that will make me feel safe and needed, and other ways to interrogate the critical voice in my head that bullies me into starvation and silence.

Under normal circumstances I would feel very overwhelmed by these propositions, but I don't feel that way anymore. I have six days until I am no longer a teenager, and I crave independence from my teenage ways, my eating disorder, and from my panic attacks. I also long to be trusted by those around me, and to learn to trust myself so that I may truly blossom as an adult who can feed and take care of herself. Only then will I be able to build my empire and achieve my dreams.

So here we go... Almost time for me to see what the grass is like on the twenty side of life. Wish me luck!

XO