tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13670882254044744982024-02-07T21:16:21.972+00:00Emily Jayne TisshawEmily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-16245476048962480712021-08-22T11:09:00.001+01:002021-08-27T18:07:23.783+01:00The Most Important Lessons I Have Learnt From Every Self-Help Book I Have Ever Read<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5drsRN28shRRJM71YsfxJfVdD6hB_NtlAwqZ2y9ZE64aHbAShouBQRRcbQ3JYvQI_m0bg-XE1_uV2e4l4MAA7xjQSRYCab-N4dUAEJ9gOyME5SZmA66NXcKu4cvDYNGX5qVrOrFIG_g4/s890/2560.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="890" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5drsRN28shRRJM71YsfxJfVdD6hB_NtlAwqZ2y9ZE64aHbAShouBQRRcbQ3JYvQI_m0bg-XE1_uV2e4l4MAA7xjQSRYCab-N4dUAEJ9gOyME5SZmA66NXcKu4cvDYNGX5qVrOrFIG_g4/w372-h223/2560.jpeg" width="372" /></a></div><br /><p>I have survived a long time struggling with my mental health. I have fallen over the edge of the cliff of sanity (a fair few times) - or whatever the saying is. This means I have had to put in a lot of effort to regain my balance in life, to readjust the straps of my straight jacket. It's a depressingly numb, yet simultaneously, highly anxious experience when your own mind starts to turn on you. But I knew I had to keep trying to regulate my ever-changing, all-encompassing moods.</p><p>When I first began to embark on this journey of realising I was fucked and wanting a way out it was a matter of necessity as opposed to free will. I was hopelessly depressed, confused and was desperate for all of the answers to all of my problems. I remember some of the first self help books I discovered and read. I used to think that they would grant me a one way ticket out of manic-depression town. But I was doing it all wrong. There was no way out - only through - and I soon discovered that I would have to do a lot more than read one book if I wanted to feel okay.</p><p>I've compiled a list of the 7 most important takeaways from the (embarrassingly large amount of) self help books I have read over the past 6 years of my mental health and self awareness journey in the hopes that it will help someone who is eager to improve their lives but doesn't want to read over 20 different books to get there.</p><p>Here they are:</p><p>1. You have to <i><b>want</b></i> to learn (and unlearn). This is the first and most important point: without the desire to grow, all of the other things on this list are pointless. You have to be interested and invested in changing your situation. </p><p>2. Incorporate a healthy daily commitment into your routine. Even if it's just to smile at yourself in the mirror everyday, drink a glass of water first thing when you wake up or take daily vitamins. Having something that you incorporate into your routine and do daily (and just for yourself) is a good way of communicating to your depression-brain that you are worth the effort which will help build up your self esteem and clear those self loathing thoughts thus resulting in better mental wellbeing.</p><p>3. You are not going to suddenly be fixed - it's a journey, not an ending. When I first started to try and comprehend my mental health struggles, I thought I was suddenly going to reach a stage where I was free of depression. I was caught up on the idea of reaching happiness, reaching contentment, reaching peace. And unfortunately that never really comes (well, it does but sporadically). What I have learnt and now accepted wholly is that our emotional state is not fixed or permanent. Just like the ocean, we have great depth and experience feelings in waves. This may be the cheesiest phrase I've ever quoted but it's simple and relevant: ride the wave. And funnily enough, the peace that I was striving for, comes to me more often now I have accepted this fact.</p><p>4. You cannot escape pain - in fact the more you try to escape it, the more intensified it becomes. The same as the point I made above; you can live with more ease and become more at peace with your pain once you accept that you cannot escape fear/pain/hurt. </p><p>5. Have patience and compassion for yourself. I know it's one of the oldest tricks in the book(s), but you really do have to be kind to yourself. Think about speaking to yourself as if you were talking to a child, or someone that you love - what would you say to them if they were struggling? Be mindful of the way you are talking to yourself. It matters.</p><p>6. Take or leave it. A lot of the advice I have read has really helped me, the practises of CBT by Melanie Fennel (Overcoming Low Self-Esteem), Sarah Knight helping me to "prioritise my fucks" (The Life Changing Magic of Not Giving a Fuck), Lauren and her 'Handel Method' where I wrote out my desired life (Maybe it's You). But sometimes I will read something and I don't feel a strong pull to practise it or take it on board. And that's okay. Books are there to inform us and we should be able to question things that don't feel right. Everyone has their own individual way of learning and not every method of self help will work for us. Take what you want and leave the rest. It's the same with this article, you don't have to like it if you don't feel it applies to you.</p><p>7. And lastly, you will need more than books, and what I have written here to feel mentally sound. It's a constant learning journey. I have incorporated lot of outside support into my life in the form of therapy, meditation, exercise, a healthier diet, ocean therapy and writing to help me get to where I am now (calmer, happier, kinder). You have to have more than books and there is lots of support out there, even if that support comes in the form of something small and easily accessible, like a friend who you can text when your mood changes. Don't be afraid to ask. You'd be surprised at the amount of people willing to help once you go looking for it.</p><p>I really hope this offers some sort of relief to those who are struggling (even a tiny bit)!</p><p>Below is a list of all the self help/self improvement books I have read (some more than once).</p><p></p><b>Self help books I have read: </b><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Who Moved My Cheese </i>by Spencer Johnson<br /><i>The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom </i>by Miguel Ruiz</span><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a Fuck </i>by Sarah Knight</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway </i>by Susan Jeffers</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Good Vibes, Good Life: How Self-Love Is the Key to Unlocking Your Greatness</i> by Vex King</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment </i><span>by Eckhart Tolle</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Calm: Calm the Mind. Change the World</i> by Michael Acton Smith</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Reasons to Stay Alive </i>by Matt Haig</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The War of Art: </i></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles </i>by Steven Pressfield</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>What a Time to be Alone </i><span>by Chidera Eggerue</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Overcoming Low Self-Esteem </i>by Melanie Fennell</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Raise Your Vibration </i>by Kyle Gray</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>How to Come Alive Again </i>by Beth McColl</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>How to do the Work: Recognise Your Patterns, Heal from Your Past </i>by Nicole LePera</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>How to Get Over a Boy </i>by Chidera Eggerue</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Million Dollar Habits </i>by Stellan Moreira</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Maybe it's You: Cut the Crap. Face Your Fears. Love Your Life </i>by Lauren Handel Zander</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober </i><span>by Catherine Gray</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>How to Win Friends and Influence People </i><span>by Dale Carnegie</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Quit Like a Woman: The Radical Choice to Not Drink in a Culture Obsessed with Alcohol </i><span>by Holly Whitaker</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>A Little Piece of Mind: Freedom from Anxiety, Panic Attacks and Stress </i>by Nicola Bird</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself </i>by Michael A. Singer</span></div>Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-80009926961007984352021-08-16T15:49:00.002+01:002021-08-16T15:56:16.602+01:00Fulfilment <p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVkeTmBizelv_BPKJLBQXHgt_pdAnD7_xbGl26CeMFQ0dSpUm5fg08JHFEUiq_yIj6x5hBmpG0ifLppu7x5a4iTve_K0a6ut0Sdn18S4lDnUkRZqbotGDPMDlJ_Lzj8jxS0WX1gyqmbCR/s4032/824AF702-4057-470C-9228-DCB2B319FDEB.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVkeTmBizelv_BPKJLBQXHgt_pdAnD7_xbGl26CeMFQ0dSpUm5fg08JHFEUiq_yIj6x5hBmpG0ifLppu7x5a4iTve_K0a6ut0Sdn18S4lDnUkRZqbotGDPMDlJ_Lzj8jxS0WX1gyqmbCR/w418-h314/824AF702-4057-470C-9228-DCB2B319FDEB.heic" width="418" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">For the majority of my life I've been searching for fulfilment in other things - mostly in the form of other people and toxic substances. But more recently, since being sober and letting go of unhealthy relationships, I have been free of distractions and forced to face myself. I decided that I wanted to take more of an active role in getting to know who I am without people and drugs and what it is that I really want. This has meant I have learnt to proudly say </span><b style="text-align: left;"><u>no</u></b><span style="text-align: left;"> to things and </span><b style="text-align: left;"><u>no</u></b><span style="text-align: left;"> to people.</span></div><p style="text-align: center;">Through being more in tune with myself and the powerful gift of hindsight, I have been able to recognise that I had often said "yes" when I really meant "no". I found that I would do this to "keep the peace" and to make people like me. But who's peace was I keeping? And what's the use in being liked when I didn't even like myself?</p><p style="text-align: center;">When we say yes to things when we really mean no, we start to teach ourselves (and others) that their needs come before our own. But when I begun to say no (honouring how I truly felt) I started to notice a deep level of inner love and the fulfilment that I was searching for in avoiding rocking the boat started to come to me. The fulfilment that I was so desperately seeking in others was within me the whole time. </p><p style="text-align: center;">At first I felt bad, I was pissing people off and it was alien to me to be that assertive. I explained this to my life coach, Olivia. I said that I was worried about upsetting people and she said to me: "disappoint everyone else before disappointing yourself". This quote made so much sense to me and to hear it said aloud was exactly what I needed. After all, we only have ourselves at the end of each day and we are the one one who gets ourselves out of bed in the mornings so we should be the one's we listen to, right?</p><p style="text-align: center;">In honouring other peoples needs, I thought that I would gain some sort of respect and love (and maybe I did a bit) but that respect and love was only external and didn't fill my internal void. Even being bothered about upsetting someone else, I was still putting their needs above my own. What about my own upset? In respecting and honouring my own needs, even if that meant I was letting other people down or not living up to their expectations of me, it didn't matter because I started to feel a deep level of fulfilment that only comes from being true to who I am, and that filled me up from the inside.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I have said no to long messy nights. I have told people that I no longer wish to hang out with them any more. This no longer feels like a big deal for me. When the day is over, I get into my bed at night, let that initial loneliness that comes with any sort of healing fade over me and snuggle further down into my duvet, take a deep sigh of relief and know that I am finally starting to listen to that little voice (which gets louder and stronger everyday i honour myself) inside of me that wants me to grow into a person who no longer seeks (much) outside validation, shuffles further down into her lonely bed at night and is at peace with that. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Life really is too short to not start honouring your boundaries and living the exact way you please. </p>Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-52353398944561039282021-06-06T19:42:00.004+01:002021-08-16T15:55:24.126+01:00I want to make art so beautiful it brings people to tears<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_MkA0UxKemqNpuYf8BcGWmSiHkAbSKQCJGSahR6uytIK0KdVNQa_dsvKAyVT5Mwm_K-dXGqN0bIZJmL7BYUlm5H0pFb9-bAQdjBwX8wc4zY5OAWLmcVq7zEJJm0IKyBe1L48cqpCovQBV/s1169/C3CBED2B-375C-42F8-8B6E-771983A4BE7A_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="1169" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_MkA0UxKemqNpuYf8BcGWmSiHkAbSKQCJGSahR6uytIK0KdVNQa_dsvKAyVT5Mwm_K-dXGqN0bIZJmL7BYUlm5H0pFb9-bAQdjBwX8wc4zY5OAWLmcVq7zEJJm0IKyBe1L48cqpCovQBV/w389-h291/C3CBED2B-375C-42F8-8B6E-771983A4BE7A_1_201_a.jpeg" width="389" /></a></div><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I want to make art so beautiful it brings people to tears. I want to have conversations with people that aren't about the weather or other people, I want to talk about the expanding universe and the formidable depth of the ocean. I want to go out and explore new places, have new adventures with people who love and value my time. I want to eat different foods and taste the sweetness of a first kiss. I want to read, run, swim, have fun. I want to travel and stay curious about the world. I want laughter, joy, affection and love. </span></div><p style="text-align: center;">I want to be in a boat with nowhere to go. I want to hear the ricochetting sounds of my friends laughter. I want it to be normal to cry without anyone telling me to stop. I want to trust every single word I hear. I want to see the depths of who people really are when they aren't hiding behind a facade.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I want to stand on the edge of a cliff and not feel like throwing myself off but instead be curious about the shape of the rocks. I want to watch the person I love be happy. I want to dance until I can no longer stand. I want someone to tell me everything will be okay whilst holding my hand. I want the rain to wash away every bad thought I've ever had. I want to hold onto this yearning for more. I want this happiness to last. </p>Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-54915882862936328792021-06-01T08:59:00.002+01:002021-06-04T04:16:56.007+01:00Allowing Ourselves to be Vulnerable<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP-Qhl159ajZFT_eVHcg7swLj86QKKnxZbkjZVo1DgigLO9AAxsXtYL5lORJaf6ZplJU79gJ4m1lZNwXa71EWeB6U9I2LQWCCkKO9OEIfqaNPT5F5Kz0sMzDYs35C96nwhO4AwNCtB5aHi/s510/girl-3141445__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="510" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP-Qhl159ajZFT_eVHcg7swLj86QKKnxZbkjZVo1DgigLO9AAxsXtYL5lORJaf6ZplJU79gJ4m1lZNwXa71EWeB6U9I2LQWCCkKO9OEIfqaNPT5F5Kz0sMzDYs35C96nwhO4AwNCtB5aHi/w349-h232/girl-3141445__340.jpg" width="349" /></a></div><p>Vulnerability and the act of being vulnerable is usually defined as a state of being more susceptible to harm. But what I have recently discovered is that when we are vulnerable, we actually become more prone to safety.</p><p><i>Vuln-er-ab-il-ity</i>, even the word sounds fragile. Like a tiny piece of debris skipping down an 80 foot cliff, eventually bouncing its way to the lonely surface below. Vulnerability is mostly perceived as weakness: crying, illness, children, old people. We associate vulnerability with the weakest acts, the weakest states and the weakest people. But these things aren't necessarily weak, they are human.</p><p>In a world that perceives these things as weak, I think it takes strength to be them proudly. The kind of vulnerability I am mostly referring to is emotional vulnerability. To truly allow ourselves to be vulnerable in a world that glorifies being "strong", is in itself strong. </p><p>In a recent session with my life coach, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/oa_coaching/">Olivia</a>, we discussed the importance of creating a safe space to be vulnerable. She told me that, when we are vulnerable and true with our emotions it allows others to also be vulnerable, thus creating a safe and open space to allow our vulnerability to be worn without harm. I have noticed this myself when opening up to people about some of my deepest emotions they have also opened up to me about theirs and we have shared the rawness and the beauty of what it truly feels to be comfortably vulnerable in the presence of another.</p><p>I have struggled to be vulnerable in the past and I still do sometimes but I always try to value my most authentic states over a facade of toughness. Even if that means being slightly uncomfortable and facing backlash and ridicule, at least then I have discovered who is and isn't safe to be my most authentic self around.</p><p>The only way to know if you can trust someone is to trust someone and the only way to avoid harm is not to avoid it but accept our vulnerabilities and be brave enough to sit with our emotions when pain takes over us. Not only will this allow you to speak your truth, it will also open you up to deeper, kinder and safer connections. </p>Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-1272420443857024372021-05-18T19:19:00.004+01:002021-06-04T04:18:51.393+01:00Why You Should Always Take the Jump<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqZnjRJg0VKr0fjlaD8iEFe3EdJsOqcniJprRBQMMA7NCABwJSc1Pmk_4oPCK7whXVcIriKRxvqsKd-z_V1SuhSrQr7SOuM6-Dev6t21e0ZJlnTpA_zA9JCr9ki2ZNNOBx1DJ7nzfe0Bpr/s960/achieve-1822503_960_720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="623" data-original-width="960" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqZnjRJg0VKr0fjlaD8iEFe3EdJsOqcniJprRBQMMA7NCABwJSc1Pmk_4oPCK7whXVcIriKRxvqsKd-z_V1SuhSrQr7SOuM6-Dev6t21e0ZJlnTpA_zA9JCr9ki2ZNNOBx1DJ7nzfe0Bpr/s320/achieve-1822503_960_720.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Most of the time, I live by one general rule: <div><br /></div><div><i><u><b>fuck it.</b></u></i></div><div><br /></div><div>Translated by romantics as following your heart and by cynics as being a bit of a twat. Ask anyone with a pragmatic approach to life and they'll tell you that <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">fucki</i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ng-it</u> (a scientific term) is almost always a bad thing. Well, I am here to tell you that it can be a good thing. In fact, what if I told you that you can be pragmatic <i>and</i> idealistic at the same time? You don't have to give up your dreams, you just have to save your <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fuck-it</u> moments for the right things (and the right people). </div><div><br /></div><div>This may not be sound advice to take from someone who's been in questionable situations more times than the average person, but I'm doing alright and I'm still here living to tell the tale aren't I? Plus, I'm not insinuating that you walk around screaming YOLO and giving your <u><b><i>fuck-it</i></b></u> moments away quite so flippantly. Let's be real about this and dig a bit deeper. Let's have some standards, people (she says, after years of no standards).</div><div>
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What I mean is, and I'm talking from experience, don't <i><u><b>fuck-it</b></u></i> with an "it sounded like a good idea at the time" kind of decision. As I said, I have been known for my impulsivity and whilst I do uphold the mentality that we should allow ourselves some frivolous fun from time to time (the consequences aren't <i>that</i> ghastly), what I am really talking about are the bigger things that our hearts truly yearn for, the looming "what if's" and the longing "could be's": things that we dream of, our deepest desires. The things that make us excited and scared at the same time. These are the things we need to save our <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fuck-it</u> moments for, these are the risks we need to be taking. </div><div><br />I'm fed up of seeing countless articles entitled "Older Generations Biggest Regrets". Every time I read one, they all say the same thing: people regret the things they didn't do, the moments where they should have acted, the jumps they should have taken. It's time we started evolving past our ancestors 'safe' choices. What's more safe than honouring our truest feelings? The evidence is there so let's kill the idea that taking a risk is always foolish. If reading this has lit a little fire in your gut and you're having thoughts about the dreams you wish you were pursuing then this is your sign to take the jump.</div><div><br /></div><div>What are you waiting for? </div><div><br /></div><div><i><b><u>Fuck-it</u></b></i></div><div><i><b><u><br /></u></b></i></div><div><i><b><u><br /></u></b></i></div><div><i><b><u><br /></u></b></i></div><div><i><b><u><br /></u></b></i></div>
</div>Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-27660896416065870232021-05-17T09:37:00.002+01:002021-06-07T17:59:21.238+01:00Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/12/13/05/27/dna-1903318__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Life" border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="604" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/12/13/05/27/dna-1903318__340.jpg" title="Life" /></a></div><p>When I think about life I think of the complexities and intricacies of the mad world us humans inhabit. But what I mostly think when I ponder our existence on this lonely planet, is love. How love has shaped me, fuelled me; how it encompasses me. All the things I love and things that bring me joy. All the people I've loved and those who have loved me.</p><p>My thoughts weren't always this way, I was once horribly depressed and thoughts about life only made me wish I didn't have one. This doesn't sadden me any more, that I was once sad. I've lived a lot of different lives and experienced a lot of different emotions. That thought once frightened me, but now I see all the possibilities of the people I am yet to become. </p><p>In this moment, I look forward to life - to living. Now that I have love (I mean, I have always had love but now that I have learnt how to tap into love more frequently), I have life. I don't think life could exist without love. And when I say love I don't necessarily mean romantic love (although that love is great), I mean the things that drive us to go on. Even the mundane things that we may not always be aware of but make our lives that bit sweeter. Warm duvets, hot showers, the patch of sunlight through our window, fruit tea (if thats your thing), smiling, music, dogs, the ocean. </p><p>There are so many things in life that almost make your vision sharpen once you start to notice them, especially when you have existed with sad eyes blurring your vision for so long. </p><p>So to those who have forgotten, and to my future self reading this: start looking for love because it is out there and you will find it. </p>Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-80904713229505715502020-12-14T17:58:00.002+00:002021-06-04T04:19:25.561+01:003 books to read instead of WDOYP<p style="text-align: left;"></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" height="187" id="id_7327_5f0f_c881_5fd5" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/aVgbYoTxlryI7YWV1vVvzIhecw0l-HvjYszXNl7w1BXk1tLQoHiz4nGbCcH2N-g=w400-h187" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" width="400" /></p></blockquote><p></p><p>I wanted to talk about the conversation on Instagram after Chidera Eggurue posted on her stories about a lot of the content in her book <i>What a Time to be Alone (2018) </i>as well as the layout/design being wildly similar to Florence Given’s book <i>Women Don’t Owe You Pretty (2020). </i></p><div><i><br /></i></div><div>My sister bought me the book <i>What a Time to be Alone </i>by Chidera for my birthday after a breakup I went though two years ago. I thought it was a beautifully articulated, empowering book. I liked the use of Nigerian proverb throughout as it felt more authentic to me to have ancestral background from the authors culture weaved into a the book. It’s full of bright colours and graphics that put the book at an accessible advantage to others of its kind. </div><div><br /></div><div>I began following Chidera on Instagram where I also discovered Florence Given. They share a similar message and Florence Given openly admits she takes influence from Chidera, stating this in her book <i>Women Don’t Owe You Pretty. </i>I idly followed FG, I found her use of graphics and feminism extremely accessible and palatable (aka WHITE!) which suited me (a white person). I followed the trend and bought her book this year when it came out, this isn’t unusual for me as I buy a lot of books but I <i>did </i>feel as though hers lacked substance. I remember chatting to someone saying that the book wasn’t anything I didn’t already know and that it would be great if I was 15. </div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>I think we all know the reasons FG book is so popular. Her look! She’s a skinny, pretty, able-bodied, white women on Instagram. Instagram is a social media platform that relies <i>heavily</i> on aesthetic with it being mainly a photo sharing app. I have always loved it because of this, I like photos of beautiful scenes and if you were to look at my Instagram you’d find many photos like this. But the issue I have felt consistently while using the app (any social media app tbh) is that it is far too easy to get caught up in aesthetics and value them over important messages and deeper meanings to things. </div><div><br /></div><div>I’m accepting my own responsibility in adhering to this superficial platform and idly following figures such as FG (who is only 21 btw) therefore I feel it is appropriate for me as a white person to acknowledge that I and we, have to do better when choosing who to look up to/who to read books by. </div><div><br /></div><div>I’ve always loved reading books, literature is my favourite form of art. So naturally, I felt it important to share some of the books I read before I read WDOYP that I feel need more attention: </div><div><br /></div><div>1. As well as Chidera’s <i>What a Time to be Alone, </i>she has also written <i>How to get Over a Boy </i>which is a great book for advice on getting over someone and a guide to dating. Or if you’re already in a relationship and interested in delving into your attachment style and love language in order to better your existing relationships with those around you. </div><div><br /></div><div>2. In Chidera’s Instgram story she stated the only real difference in FG’s book was that she touched on queerness. I’ve also heard a lot of people saying they really benefited from FG discussing bisexuality in her book. Well, let me tell you something, Shiri Eisner wrote <i>Bi: Notes for a Bisexual Revolution. </i>Shiri is a Bisexual, Mizrahi, disabled, genderqueer person. The book has way more history, substance and information about the trans/bi community compared to the FG book. </div><div><br /></div><div>3. <i>Why I’m no Longer Talking to White People About Race </i>by Reni Eddo Lodge<i>. </i>Need I say more than this title suggests? We have literally watched our capitalist white supremacist world play out with the publishing of Chidera’s and FG’s book. It is down to us (white people) to start listening to marginalised voices, buying their books, art, work supporting their businesses and changing the way the whole system works.</div><div><br /></div><div>I’m sure there are plenty of other books on feminism by authors who aren’t white that I am yet to discover and read so I want to open up this post as a discussion thread to share book recommendations. Leave a comment below ! </div>Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-42231724433947360462019-09-15T18:26:00.000+01:002019-09-15T18:26:11.688+01:00Odd One Out I wrote this post after watching Jesy Nelson's<a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/p07lsr4d/jesy-nelson-odd-one-out" target="_blank"> Odd One Out</a> on BBC Three. Jesy talks of her experiences being bullied online and the effect of social media in our image-obsessed world. As someone who could relate to Jesy, I decided it would be beneficial to share my insight.<br />
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I was born with my upper left limb missing below the elbow so, growing up, I literally was the odd one out. Although I knew I was different, I never felt 'abnormal' or out of place until other people started saying so. My family always made me feel included and I had my own 'special way' of doing things - this was normal to me. Mostly, at school, other kids accepted my way and I had some great friends growing up. There were a few remarks made by people at school over the years and I remember one girl really hated me for being a 'one-armed freak' but social media wasn't as prominent back then so I hadn't dealt with any online instances. Facebook was founded in 2004. I was 10. Back then, you weren't allowed a Facebook account until you had reached the age of 13 (I'm not sure what it is now). I remember turning 13 and being so excited that I could finally get an account on Facebook. Soon after I signed up, I was cyber bullied.<br />
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Two of my "friends" made a page on Facebook titled something nasty with my name in and a really unflattering picture of me as the page photo. At first I was actually unaware of the culprits; cyber bullying is the most cowardice form of bullying as it allows you to hide behind complete anonymity, but soon became aware as I clicked onto the page and saw some of the pictures that were posted were from a sleepover I had had with two of, who I thought at the time, my best friends. I scrolled through more unflattering pictures and awful comments. I felt completely betrayed and confused - these girls were supposed to be my friends. I told my mum straight away and managed to get the page taken down. Thank god. I stopped hanging out with the perpetrators and I believe they eventually apologised although I forgave them I knew they weren't to be trusted again. This was just one experience I had. The whole thing made me feel incredibly vulnerable and naturally, it really affected my self-esteem.<br />
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I actually went on to bully people myself online. I remember writing comments on peoples pictures calling them ugly, etc. I don't know what possessed me to do so but now I can see that maybe I was trying to gain back what I had lost through my experience of being cyber-bullied - my confidence. Having been the victim and the perpetrator, I can now - confidently - say: the reason people bully others is because they are incredibly unhappy within themselves and haven't learnt to deal with it in a healthy way. It's a lose-lose situation for both parties. However, this still doesn't make it any easier and it certainly doesn't make it right.<br />
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As I mentioned before, I was born with one hand so if anyone is going to feel the pressure to look perfect on social media, it's bound to be me, right? And I did. I still do, sometimes. I could filter out my spots but I couldn't filter on an arm. I grew up as all of these social media websites started blooming so of course, it was an overwhelming, yet exciting time. And because I knew I had quite a significant difference to a lot of other people, I desperately tried to over-compensate - social media gave me that platform to do so. I didn't have an arm but I was pretty, the quote 'don't worry at least you're still pretty' is something I have had said to me more times than you've taken a shit. I am not shitting you. And so, the start of my selfie obsession began. I just loved taking pictures of myself. I was definitely bashing out more selfies than Kim K. I thought I was the bee's knees. I could do all different poses, get the perfect lighting, the pout, the eyes, everything. I was a selfie pro. I actually became so obsessed with my image and my online life, I developed incredible anxiety. I would dress up as if I was going on a night out just to sit in and take pictures of myself. Was this all I was good at?<br />
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I knew that I had more to offer, more to give the world than 50 pictures of myself; every single one me doing the same damn pose with slightly different makeup/hair. I had to go bigger. Make myself look drastically different instead of just slightly. I had a lot of different looks. All of this was exhausting. Taking pictures of yourself all the time does get tiring. And of course it was the whole lifestyle that came with online validation, I would scroll through endless pictures of other girls all doing the same thing as me. We all know that's a breeding ground for unhealthy comparisons. I was fed up with how I looked and there really are only so many looks one person can pull off. The thing with trying to look a certain way for social media is that it never ends. There will always be more styles and more people to compare to.<br />
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In her documentary Jesy is encouraged to get in touch with her younger self. Who she was before social media and the person she is now but behind the hair and makeup. I've always felt pretty grounded in myself - my true self - but through watching her documentary I know there have been certain different people I have disguised myself as being online. One thing I learnt through my time of desperately seeking gratification online and one thing I have always known deep down is that you have to accept who you are. I know that I will never be able to grow an arm. That is always going to be there. In the same way I used to filter out my spots, they were still always there when I looked in the mirror. I have always known this truth so why have I tried to hide it? For other people? Fuck that.<br />
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I no longer live for online validation, although sometimes it is nice and I still take selfies, although nowhere near as many as I used to. I use social media a lot less than I used to and try to always be as authentic as one can be online.<br />
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To end this post I've included a picture of me, exactly as I am right now. Messy hair, only wearing mascara and a bit of eyebrow powder, spotty neck and all - theres one on my head too. This was the first picture I took. No messing with lighting, stupid pouty face or a billion layers of makeup. I am happy in this picture.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvmHPwlU-wRpOPTwmvSRA8TmJJq_wwZPWJ8xNoRJq-3bfCCct1BwJXZzenjZiRNuLBgFIQnx9zbyA7CLyi2tmegquASwoEBzoXWiiONZJy4gpX3sqsl2bezwhyPq7CX4qGX6cOWY2C8HaL/s1600/Photo+on+15-09-2019+at+17.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1080" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvmHPwlU-wRpOPTwmvSRA8TmJJq_wwZPWJ8xNoRJq-3bfCCct1BwJXZzenjZiRNuLBgFIQnx9zbyA7CLyi2tmegquASwoEBzoXWiiONZJy4gpX3sqsl2bezwhyPq7CX4qGX6cOWY2C8HaL/s320/Photo+on+15-09-2019+at+17.22.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Let's celebrate unpolished selfies. More importantly let's celebrate things beyond the picture; real life human things like emotions, intellect, achievements, failures, telling stories, our goals/ambitions, what we ate for breakfast, our loved ones. Ourselves. </div>
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- peace and love, Em xo</div>
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<br />Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-62886088873754090982019-05-27T18:09:00.001+01:002021-06-04T04:22:20.150+01:00Why are we even having to debate about this<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6SGKT35BPDT2CBNQpVjHiRJKomj5FZjIKGMkdodA25jBZ2vC8Zehy9HsQ6MNvBa9cbowcdrfdP4jsQG4On4drY2QEQnJ4-QY63kGW5WirxreqgQrNAbZyYNibazfuBdaV0_OugrXdUuzb/s960/pregnant-422982_960_720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="960" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6SGKT35BPDT2CBNQpVjHiRJKomj5FZjIKGMkdodA25jBZ2vC8Zehy9HsQ6MNvBa9cbowcdrfdP4jsQG4On4drY2QEQnJ4-QY63kGW5WirxreqgQrNAbZyYNibazfuBdaV0_OugrXdUuzb/w455-h208/pregnant-422982_960_720.jpg" width="455" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>* I originally named this 'Why we shouldn't ban abortion' but I went back and changed it to 'Why are we even having to debate about this' because I'm really struggling to find any viable reason why there are arguments over what an individual does with <b>THEIR OWN</b> body. *<br />
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In light of the stories from the U.S that have been circulating news outlets this week, I wanted to share my story of recent events, in the hope it can give some insight to what it is actually like being pregnant and choosing to have an abortion.<br />
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For this story I need to give some context: a year and a half ago I decided to move to Cornwall for a relationship. I moved willingly, aware that the only person I knew was the person I was in a relationship with. I was completely, madly in love, so we decided we wanted to have a baby (I was in a relationship with a woman so naturally we had to do things a little different). I had been thinking about getting pregnant for a while, so this is something I had really wanted. I had tests that indicated I was healthy and fertile and we had an appointment at a fertility clinic to get the ball rolling. Soon after this, the relationship broke down, which meant the end of the pregnancy journey. And although I hadn't really managed to make any concrete friends outside of work or my relationship, I decided I wanted to stay in Cornwall. Things settled and a few months later I had my own flat and a lovely bunch of new friends.<br />
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A few months later...<br />
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I don't actually remember the exact date I found out I was pregnant, but I can tell you it was on a weekday morning in the women's toilets of a Burger King. A classy situation. Of course I was in denial. I had never had to deal with something like this before. I put it out of my mind and was adamant that the pregnancy test was wrong. I then visited a doctor who told me 'pregnancy tests are rarely wrong. In fact, they are 99.9% accurate' and with all faith in my doctor (and the poundland pregnancy test) this was when the realisation sunk in but all I remember thinking was, 'oh shit'.<br />
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I had been with my new partner for only a month, so when I had the realisation about me actually being pregnant, I had the memory of my previous relationship and all of those feelings of wanting so badly to be pregnant flood back to me, except this time, it was a completely different circumstance. It felt like my past was taunting me. Tom (my boyfriend) and I spoke about all the possibilities. We talked about what we would do if we kept it, came up with a plan of action, thought about the sex of the baby, baby names, baby clothes, baby school, baby everything. I think it drove us both a little baby-crazy. We were close and had been since we met but having an actual child seemed out of our depth and completely inappropriate considering the circumstances. After all the late night chats weighing up the pros and cons, with careful consideration, we decided that bringing a child into this world where we couldn't facilitate for it to the best of our ability was against what we stood for and although it saddened us, we felt a termination was the best outcome.<br />
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I was only pregnant for 6 weeks before having the termination but during those 6 weeks, I endured some of the toughest times of my life. My whole body changed, I felt like a completely different person. I would look at myself in the mirror and think about how strange I seemed. I know I probably didn't look different to anyone else, but to me, I was an alien. The obvious changes happened; fuller breasts, bloated stomach; I had sweats, headaches, morning sickness - except in my case it was not just morning sickness. I felt sick. All. The. Time. I could not do it any longer. I was exhausted. Really, bloody exhausted. I actually now worship pregnant women. They are creatures of an elite species and I'm quite a bit embarrassed admitting that I felt so awful when I only had to endure pregnancy for a measly 6 weeks - I could not imagine going through 9 months of it let alone the actual giving birth - oh and the baby that I was then responsible for!<br />
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During my pregnancy, I was living with some really loving and supportive men. I hadn't managed to make any close friends that were girls yet so there I was, bloody pregnant, surrounded by men. I cannot fault them though and I really do owe them a lot of thanks because they did - try their bloody hardest to - keep me sane. They dealt with me swearing at them, shouting at them, crying (a lot), moaning (a lot) and I don't think I could've wished for kinder, more loyal and protective guys around me. Although, there were times I desperately wanted my girl friends from back home with me, or even just a girl to talk to FOR 5 MINUTES! But I felt like, because I was 90% sure I wanted to terminate the pregnancy, there was no way I could tell anyone about it. As well as being away from friends, I was also away from my family; this was a lot harder. It was a really lonely, scary time.<br />
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The hospital gave me 3 options to terminate my pregnancy, none of which seemed particularly appealing. I won't go into detail about all of them but to give you a little insight, one option had the word 'vacuum' in the title - gross. I didn't choose the vacuum option. Instead, I chose the pill option. I assumed that it was a one-pill procedure, I would have a period and it would all be gone. Not only was I wrong about the one-pill thing, I was wrong about the whole simplicity of the procedure.<br />
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<i><u>The procedure</u></i><br />
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At the hospital they gave me a pill to stop the pregnancy hormones. They then gave me a rectal antibiotic (to shove up my bum either in the hospital or at home - I chose to do this at home) and 4 other pills to take home to insert into the vagina the following day. To be honest, none of this fazed me, as by this point I was ready to do anything to not be pregnant anymore. I went home relieved and ready. The gynaecologist explained to me that it would feel like a more painful, heavier period and as someone who has experienced quite painful periods, I felt I would be able to handle it.<br />
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The next day I woke up with a sense of relief. Today was the day that my awful, tiring, stressful pregnancy will finally be over. I had to wait until midday to continue the procedure but once I had finished with the tablets, I got a blanket, curled up on the sofa and waited for it to work. Tom sat with me, offering to bring me drinks, food, hot water bottle; anything - he was far more concerned than I was. I actually remember thinking how exhausted I felt and wanting desperately to just fall asleep. I lay on the sofa the whole afternoon, only getting up to go to the toilet to check to see if anything was happening, which it wasn't. Naturally, I was impatient.<br />
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I eventually felt cramping at about 4pm and saw the passing of blood and tissue when I went to the toilet. I was instructed to wear sanitary towels during the procedure and not tampons to allow the passing of the pregnancy to be most effective. This was fine, although I hadn't worn pads in years as I find them extremely irritating but how more irritated could I really be at this point? All seemed to be going well and the cramping gradually got worse but it wasn't anything I hadn't felt before - until it suddenly became unbearable. I was making my way back from the toilet to my living area when everything felt like it was spinning. I felt sick, lightheaded, and the pain was excruciating. Tom thought we should call an ambulance and reminded me that the gynaecologist said that the pain would be bad but not unbearable. I insisted that it was just a symptom of the procedure and protested with him about calling the emergency services. But I couldn't ignore the pain and was crying out in agony. Tom called the ambulance and they turned up pretty quickly. It was decided that I should be taken to A&E as the level of agony I was in was unusual for the situation. In the ambulance I was given morphine and gas and air for the pain. This helped and was strangely enjoyable considering the circumstances.<br />
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I wasn't released from the hospital until 2am. Drugged up on pain relief and exhausted from being prodded, the doctors told me the procedure had gone wrong and although complicated, it wasn't completely uncommon. In fact, 1 in 100 patients having the same procedure experience the issue I had. From what I understood about what happened is, the pregnancy didn't fully pass with the pill and got stuck in my cervix thus causing the pain I experienced. This meant that the doctors had to remove it surgically at the hospital. Relieved it was all over, I went home and had an almighty sleep.<br />
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Honestly, the whole thing was traumatic and I do not think I am quite recovered yet. I have been back to hospital twice since the procedure for scans/blood tests and was admitted to A&E again last week with similar abdominal pains. All my tests came back fine and I was given more pain relief but told it can take up to 3 months for the body to heal. I was also offered counselling before and after the procedure to cope with the mental stress. I still think about what if I went ahead with the pregnancy; what if I had chosen to keep the baby? Would I endure more complications further down the line? I think about giving birth. I think about what my baby would have looked like, smelled like even. How would I have coped with a baby? Would I be a good parent?<br />
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Having to think about all of this makes me wonder what it would've been like if I didn't have a choice. If I <i>had</i> to keep the baby. If I had to keep it based on a law. A law decided by men. Men who don't and won't ever have to feel what it feels like to be pregnant. Sounds like utter bollocks, doesn't it?<br />
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<br />Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-8905851337676956062017-09-18T22:41:00.005+01:002021-06-07T18:02:22.231+01:00How Hard it is to Love Yourself when you're Tackling Mental Health <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2021/01/25/22/16/woman-5949817__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="How Hard it is to Love Yourself when you're Tackling Mental Health" border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="604" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2021/01/25/22/16/woman-5949817__340.jpg" title="How Hard it is to Love Yourself when you're Tackling Mental Health" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>I keep five different journals. FIVE. I have my weekly planner, my "worry diary", my <a href="https://dailygreatness.co.uk/products/dailygreatness-journal?variant=256678718&gclid=CjwKCAjw3f3NBRBPEiwAiiHxGJo20a5BN1X2M70LvjA2kceSpts6MdJqBcxqPzqKzJods9J7iSc3IBoC-7gQAvD_BwE" target="_blank">Daily Greatness Journal</a>, an art journal and another plain written journal I don't use as much. Why? Because I like to write, and to keep track of my progress and my wellbeing. I like to have a creative outlet. It's important to me to have some sort of outlet as a way of dealing with my mental health. It's difficult to keep on top of everything when you have five bloody journals, but it's also difficult when you feel like your mind is a mental representation of this. I know what you're thinking, just have ONE journal for gods sake, Emily. No. I tried this. And I didn't like it. I felt restricted. I need different journals for different methods of creation. If I wrote my anxieties in my weekly planner it would distract me from my schedule and if I started painting in my daily greatness journal it would mess up my daily greatness plan. I'm just not a one-journal-kinda-gal. <div>
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It may sound like a lot of effort to people who don't battle with a mental illness but having a mental illness IS a lot of effort. Every small task feels like a huge hurdle that you've been forced to jump over. Although, daily tasks that feel like mountains are the easy part, the hard bit is then having to deal with a mind that tells you what you've achieved isn't good enough. How am I supposed to love myself when all of the necessary actions I'm taking to get myself there are being rejected by my very own being? It's oh-so-exhausting. </div>
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I feel such intense pressure sometimes, but now I'm saying NO. No more feeling inadequate. It's debilitating to feel such disappointment in yourself when you're trying your hardest. To look at yourself in the mirror and see a person you don't want to be. A person you wish you weren't. </div>
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Thankfully, recently, I've been allowing myself time to relax. Like really relax. I don't have to feel 'accomplished' everyday. I don't have to love myself all the time. I have five different bloody journals for a reason. Because my mind isn't one state of being. Humans are not one dimensional. We are not one emotion, or one behaviour. I know some days I will feel suffocated and defeated but whilst I feel that way it's important to remember the times I've felt the complete opposite, too. I've also been allowing myself to feel it. Rolling with it, I guess. After all, I know it's temporary. And I know it's okay and completely ~normal~ to feel contradictory emotions. </div>
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After all, I doubt I'm alone in this. </div>
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And if I could offer one piece of advice for everyone reading this, it would be; stop putting pressure on yourself to be great, you're fine as you are. </div>
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no pressure, no stress-er</div>
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<div>
- peace and love, Emily -xo</div>
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Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-32988964115282830312017-09-11T09:32:00.001+01:002021-06-07T18:05:42.969+01:00When You Only Have Yourself To Blame<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://media.istockphoto.com/photos/that-was-such-a-flop-picture-id1080813250?b=1&k=6&m=1080813250&s=170667a&w=0&h=xgnYtVPajVv7lt-QJZWZvBmdYEbqyQi4SuwJVFUx6cI=" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="When You Only Have Yourself To Blame" border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="509" src="https://media.istockphoto.com/photos/that-was-such-a-flop-picture-id1080813250?b=1&k=6&m=1080813250&s=170667a&w=0&h=xgnYtVPajVv7lt-QJZWZvBmdYEbqyQi4SuwJVFUx6cI=" title="When You Only Have Yourself To Blame" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>If there is one thing I have learnt throughout my life, it's that I'm really good at giving advice but not so good at taking it. I sometimes think that it may be because I see myself as being an exception to the rules. It's pride and it's ego. I see this in myself sometimes. I catch myself behaving and believing that I'm somewhat exempt from morality. I have endless excuses and take zero responsibility. I'm ashamed of this, it is not the way I wish to live my life. Having a loaded god complex probably stems from the abundance of praise and admiration I had as a child - classic me blaming my parents!<br />
<br />
I know that when I only have myself to blame there are proactive steps to take instead of wallowing in self pity (which is something I've definitely been known to do). The most vital step being to take some goddamn responsibility! Accepting that I am flawed is not easy but it's completely necessary. I am not the only person to make a mistake. I am not the only person to feel this way but I do because of my own actions and I deserve to because of my own actions. It really is a lot easier said than done.<br />
<br />
I know a lot of people say "don't worry" and "don't beat yourself up about it" when things go wrong. But that's bullshit advice, sometimes, people need to be told. I am one of those people. I do need to beat myself up a little bit, I do need to feel bad for my actions. If I didn't, how will I ever grow? It's easy to tell someone not to worry because we know it's what we would want to hear if we were in their position. But, if everyone went around spewing this discourse we'd all be tripping up struggling to walk on the layer upon layer of rugs we've swept everything under. <br />
<br />
You gotta fix it. You gotta take action.<br />
<br />
I know once I've accepted my wrongdoings and accepted that I am flawed I will start making better decisions. I think believing that I am exempt from the rules makes me more inclined to break the rules in the first place. Now that I am accepting I am not above anyone else, I won't act as though I am. I want to change but it won't happen because if we don't have the power to accept personal responsibility for our actions, we won't have the power to change them.<br />
<br />
Don't let people get away with being shit. When you see bad things happen, call it out. And when you only have yourself to blame, take responsibility, accept it, fix it and learn from it.<br />
<br />
<br />
- peace and love, Emily -xo<br />
<br />Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-58287240010160593152017-08-26T13:20:00.002+01:002021-06-07T18:09:39.809+01:00I Moved House (again).<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2018/09/12/07/40/moving-3671446__340.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="I Moved House (again)." border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="459" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2018/09/12/07/40/moving-3671446__340.png" title="I Moved House (again)." /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>At the beginning of this year I decided to move back to Cambridge. Prior to this, I spent 3 years studying in Cambridge before moving back in with my parents last year. Toward the end of last year, I met someone in Cambridge so naturally, wanted to move back. We rented a room there for about 3 months before a pretty major fall out. I really wanted to stay living and working in Cambridge but couldn't afford to rent somewhere on my own on the wage I was on. So, here I am, again, back in Norfolk, living with my parents...<br />
<br />
I thought this move would be a classic opportunity for me to write another blogpost. I like to check-in every now and then. I have quite enjoyed going back and forth and changing my path. After all, I'm at the early-twenties-limbo-stage of life. NOW is the time to be exactly this. I sometimes beat myself up a bit for not being where I want to be but I do believe this is actually where I should be. I've been too caught up with getting ~there~. Wherever ~there~ is. To be honest, I don't think anyone is really ~there~ I don't even think ~there~ exists. I'm dropping getting ~there~.<br />
<br />
I think one of the toughest things for me to admit is that I don't have a clue what I want to do or where I want to be (hence the constant moving from place to place). To be quite honest, this terrifies me. It feels absurd for me to feel anxious about something I have complete control over. I have a lot of freedom and opportunity right now but I also have self doubt and anxiety. I feel like I'm constantly having to fight to feel okay and then when I do feel okay I beat myself up again for not feeling okay in the first place. I hate that I struggle and I hate admitting I'm not actually okay. It feels like a weakness to admit that I'm scared but I don't feel weak at all.<br />
<br />
I think I'm just really bloody sensitive. Which doesn't necessarily mean weak. It doesn't really mean anything good or bad, weak or strong, it just means I feel A LOT. It's exhausting, sometimes. It can also be rewarding, exciting, breathtaking, enchanting, joyous, etc, etc...<br />
<br />
Swings and roundabouts, eh?<br />
<br />
All of this ~feelings~ talk reminds me of a David Jones quote, so I'm going to end the post with this:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply."</blockquote>
<br />
- peace and love, Emily xoEmily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-55544965446834193072017-07-19T21:36:00.004+01:002021-06-07T18:11:36.845+01:00Coming off meds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/07/01/22/34/people-1492052__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Coming off meds" border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="510" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/07/01/22/34/people-1492052__340.jpg" title="Coming off meds" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>I was on antidepressants for just over a year from February 2016 to April 2017. I had my dose reduced in March so it's not a surprise that the months following this have been fairly rocky. For the past year my mood has been relatively stable and in hindsight, I feel so relieved I decided to start taking medication. Being on antidepressants is like being wrapped in bubble wrap. In fact, it kind of feels like when you visit the dentist and they give you a numbing injection in your gums just before you have a filling, but for your brain. If you've had a numbing injection in your gums then you'll know what I'm talking about when I say that coming off meds is the aftermath of the filling-feeling when your senses start to come back and the awful ache of the former dental procedure starts to creep up on you. Coming off antidepressants is a prolonged, convoluted version of that.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
During my time weening off antidepressants I felt - to put it simply - shite. And it wasn't just one of those 'I feel like shit so I'll have a bath' moods. It was a full-blown motherfxcking-monster-rollercoaster mood. I could not predict or control my mood. Monday was up, Tuesday down, Wednesday right, Thursday left and fuck knows what was happening during the end of the week because why make life easy, right? I was also extremely teary coming off meds. I kept crying at really inconvenient times. I would arrive at work, have someone ask me if I'm alright and I would burst into tears. So embarrassing. I think that exact scenario happened about half a dozen times.<br />
<br />
It's safe to say antidepressants are a pretty hefty numbing device. It's been 4 months since I started to ween myself off medication and things have definitely settled. I think all of the emotions I had been unable to feel for a year, came out in the space of 1 month. I'm glad I'm somewhat stable in comparison to how I felt then. I like that I have progressed, I think I'm always progressing now. Slowly. Very slowly, but still I am moving forward. Things used to feel as though they were moving backwards but now, I only see what's in front of me. There are still times where I sit and reflect but now, most of my reflection is for the purpose of progression.<br />
<br />
I know last February I was at crisis point and I'm so grateful I took the support offered to me at the time. I do believe antidepressants are more of a quick-fix, something to mask the pain for a while but that's exactly what I needed. If anything, the withdrawal symptoms were enough to make me never want to get to crisis point again so I don't think I'll be going near them any time in the near future. Or the far future. Or any kind of future.<br />
<br />
Here's to progress.<br />
<br />
- peace and love, Emily -xo<br />
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Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-10968570525622309262017-07-06T14:13:00.002+01:002021-06-07T18:13:48.818+01:00Fear<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/05/07/19/46/desperate-2293377__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Fear" border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="523" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/05/07/19/46/desperate-2293377__340.jpg" title="Fear" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Last night I googled 'how to talk about your feelings' which is hilarious because - its me! I'm always talking openly about my life. In fact, in previous blogposts I've talked about suffering with depression, feelings of anxiety, suicide attempts and relationship issues. I spent a long time last night skimming through article after article of understanding fears and expressing feelings. I learnt that I'm completely comfortable blogging about them because I'm not having a conversation with anyone in particular; in fact, I feel like I'm just talking to myself, which is great. No conflict. No one to tell me that my feelings are bad, or silly. Or that I'm pathetic and stupid. That is what I am most afraid of.<br />
<br />
I already know that most of my fear stems from intimacy, I've had counselling and cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) in the past to help combat this. I remember being terrified by something my therapist told me. She said the best thing for intimacy fear - is intimacy... she said that being in a safe, secure relationship - one that shows me not all people are bad - will be most helpful. I tried this. It didn't work out.<br />
<br />
So, I'm back to square one and it's frustrating because I felt like I was making good progress, which I am <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">still optimistic about. However, I know I have a lot more work to do now and I'm exhausted from continuously trying to move forward. This continuous circular endeavour reminds me of a Virginia Woolf quote:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end."</span></span></blockquote>
Life is one great cycle of shit! <i>A luminous halo</i> is perhaps a little more poetic. Either way, I believe that everything is connected and we're all going round in a loop. The path is not always clear, we experience happiness and sadness in waves, nothing is a constant state of mind - and that's okay. It helps to put this into perspective when I find myself struggling to accept my circumstances. It also helps to write about how I'm feeling, especially as I struggle to vocalise it.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I feel completely suffocated by anger and fear, almost as if there's a tangible block stood before me, stopping me from moving forward...<br />
<br />
I have a Susan Jeffers book (my counsellor recommended me) called <i>Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway; </i>a life motto, almost. I often refer back to this when I feel stuck. It kicks me back into reality and really helps me to understand that: This Is It. This is all we have. Right Here. Right Now. I cannot hold back forever, and I won't miss out on things that have the potential to be amazing because I'm too chicken shit scared to do them. Fucking, yolo n that (I've read so many self help books that I'm starting to think I should write my own).<br />
<br />
Jeffers suggests 'that while inability to deal with fear may look and feel like a psychological problem, in most cases it isn't.' She believes 'it is primarily an education problem, and that by reeducating the mind, you can accept fear as simply a fact of life rather that a barrier to success.' She goes on to teach and 'experiment with taking the concept of fear out of the realm of therapy and placing it in the area of education' and found that her students were 'amazed at how shifting their thinking magically reshaped their lives'.<br />
<br />
I've been working on this change myself and am starting to notice what triggers my fear and what I can do to help it. Again, it's a cycle of ups and downs, and more ups and more downs... etc, etc.<br />
<br />
I think you can either let fear control you or let it guide you. And I think the fact that I sat up for two hours last night googling 'how to's' suggests I want it to start guiding me instead of being burdened by it and running away. I've been burdened by it, got the t-shirt, had it signed; the whole lot. So now it's time for change. I mean, come on, Em, you're a fighter. You got this.<br />
<br />
I got this.<br />
<br />
- peace and love, Emily ox<br />
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Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-1710190472898318342017-07-04T07:51:00.002+01:002021-06-07T18:17:22.839+01:00I tried to keep myself warm and the whole world went up in flames<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/04/15/09/woman-2917779__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="I tried to keep myself warm and the whole world went up in flames" border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="513" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/04/15/09/woman-2917779__340.jpg" title="I tried to keep myself warm and the whole world went up in flames" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>I've been unintentionally writing a lot of stream of consciousness style poetry that; although different to how I would usually write, is really growing on me.<br />
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<div>
This one's a real debby downer.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "serif" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 4;">
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<b><i><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "serif" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt;">A lot of the time I don't feel like anything is real. I didn't
like what was happening outside so I locked myself in. And inside I've been
busy with flames and trying to put the fire out. But the more I try the bigger
it gets. I think it's because every time I fall out of love I feel weaker.
Like a flower that's had all of it's petals pulled off. I used to believe that
love could overpower hate. And anger. But I only feel anger. I have
been pushed around by people that are bigger than me. It hurts but at least I
can still walk. And although I can still walk, it's becoming harder to run. I
feel like I've been running for too long. I know you would agree. How do you
rebuild yourself when you've lost your way. It's like trying to put together a
glass that's been dropped from the clouds. I can't even find the damn glass. I
had it in my pocket once. It was broken and I kept losing bits. I didn't intend
on leaving shards of it behind. There are pieces of it everywhere. In places
that are too far away for me to get to, too hidden for me to find. I don't
think I will ever find it. Let alone piece it back together. I think I'm having
trouble understanding that once things are done they cannot be undone because I
keep trying to undo it. I've been trying to undo it for a long
time. I'm still trying to undo it.</span></i></b><b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "times"; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "serif" , "serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 16px;">- peace and love, Emily xo</span></div>
Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-78683855960426113232017-06-06T14:31:00.001+01:002021-06-07T18:20:03.899+01:00Boys and Girls <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/12/00/54/twigs-2941230__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Boys and Girls" border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="509" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/12/00/54/twigs-2941230__340.jpg" title="Boys and Girls" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>I'm not sure if this is a poem, or a short story or whatever but I wanted to write so I did. Enjoy.<br />
<h4>
<i>1. The first time should have been special but it was trivial. It wasn't horrific. It was a catalyst. The start of something I had no idea about but it was something everyone else did, so I did it too. I think he thought I was happy. I wanted to tell him I wasn't. </i><i><br /></i><i>2. I had a feeling it wouldn't be too long before someone held me again. When you have your face pressed against a boys chest or neck there really isn't much else to long for. This is why new people are exciting. </i><i><br /></i><i>3. I tried being friends because I had a hole in my core. I waited after school almost everyday. He never really wanted anything to do with holes or essence. </i><i><br /></i><i>4. When the summer changed to autumn I spoke of only him. But the more you think about them the less significant you are. I watched the snow fall in the early hours of the morning, waiting for him to wake up. When he did, it was always to the sound of the same song. I still can't listen to that song. I probably could have loved him. I thought I did but I was wrong. </i><i><br /></i><i>5,6,7,8. Everyone was used to it by now. There were many in between that I would have mentioned if I thought they were thinking of me. </i><i><br /></i><i>I lost count when people stopped talking about it as much. We made love at night and during the day; I felt lighter. We called it love. We also called the moon our friend. </i><i><br /></i><i>My parents called it a phase but it felt like a lifetime. There are some I won't mention because I don't care and there are some I won't mention because I do. </i><i><br /></i><i>It was only one weekend. I still despise you for making me feel like there would have been another time. The further and longer I was away from you, the more it seemed likely that I wouldn't touch you again. I still haven't. </i><i><br /></i><i>Things are too fresh and I still feel weak. You're probably thinking how typical of me this is. </i></h4>
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<i>- </i>peace and love, Emily xo<i> </i><br />
<br />Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-47338712302320596732017-05-14T17:48:00.003+01:002021-06-07T18:22:00.086+01:00Motivation <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2014/08/01/15/20/girls-407685__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Motivation" border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="512" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2014/08/01/15/20/girls-407685__340.jpg" title="Motivation" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>I've pretty much been bed bound for the past few days, suffering with horrific menstrual cramps which doctors suspect to be endometriosis. This amongst other stresses are putting me in a place that I don't want to and <b>refuse</b> to be in. So I've taken to writing a blog post to see if I can find some motivation...<br />
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It's so much easier to say I want to be productive than actually engage in anything that requires me to do so. Even as I type this I'm laying down on my bed in my underwear, not a typical environment for a so-called motivation post. I guess this post <i>is</i> a start though. In fact, I could consider this post the first step to motivation, and for anyone reading this also feeling uninspired I grant this post you're first step to motivation town, too.<br />
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<div>
Next step: create a motivation playlist. I feel like I'm in need of some proper bangers, those songs that make you actually want to do stuff... I'm thinking Destiny's Child - Survivor, Banks - Fuck With Myself, Aretha Franklin - Respect, and more along those lines. I enjoy a good stereotypical feminine kick ass song. Although, everyone has their own specific taste in music so go ahead and find your own jams, especially if you're a hefty bloke with no desire to belt Beyoncé.<br />
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<div>
Thirdly, I guess I should actually decide what it is I want to do. For this, I'm going to put together a to-do list. To-do lists are fun, in fact, I really love writing lists. When I was younger I used to have a book of lists. The first list in the aforementioned book was a "marry list". It had my maths teacher, taylor swift and a few people in my school year on it. And, if you think that's kind of cringeworthy or weird, then you're not going to like that one of the people on the list was my friends mum. I'm not even sorry, she was fit.<br />
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<div>
Finally, I should almost definitely do this last thing. I feel like it's a major component of my plan and one of the biggest steps, maybe even the penultimate step, to motivation town: get up off my bed...<br />
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I will <strike>probably</strike> do that now. Cheerio.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 16px;">- peace and love, Emily xo</span></div>
Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-31795720352462410272017-03-31T10:00:00.000+01:002017-07-04T07:40:32.031+01:00The Best Queer Spots in BerlinHere are some of my favourite queer places in Berlin ranging from clubs, to bars to book shops - enjoy!<br />
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<b>Schwules Museum </b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_wIyYJ6rhksrSO_CSPIVNAK9ZTS4fyG9oOXpG8CPXDj63q2DwwXFljvHNwXydZhRmVjlzaD7vIM5ujMDBaQh8vQ3OaDhI5y5TSl0Q_SmIbkixuoiuaXMSL16vUnXpoSXCKtTk-ODigaq/s1600/csm_Haus_41c1c2953d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_wIyYJ6rhksrSO_CSPIVNAK9ZTS4fyG9oOXpG8CPXDj63q2DwwXFljvHNwXydZhRmVjlzaD7vIM5ujMDBaQh8vQ3OaDhI5y5TSl0Q_SmIbkixuoiuaXMSL16vUnXpoSXCKtTk-ODigaq/s400/csm_Haus_41c1c2953d.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Shwules Museum is a museum FULL of LGBTQIA art. What more could you want?</div>
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<b>Other Nature </b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufuj2HCoCpo3NnTVG1FJ6h8nBVxsnk-ueP7CKaV0TY8RMVZOtw5dghi-59XTNRfuIxjLnYDmnaJP1QWByvbHYPf8q89mCuoYOTnuswq2svojWgIvH6urHGCxq2bUOjyEddHYlx1L4WrvD/s1600/DSCN1401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufuj2HCoCpo3NnTVG1FJ6h8nBVxsnk-ueP7CKaV0TY8RMVZOtw5dghi-59XTNRfuIxjLnYDmnaJP1QWByvbHYPf8q89mCuoYOTnuswq2svojWgIvH6urHGCxq2bUOjyEddHYlx1L4WrvD/s400/DSCN1401.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Forget Ann Summers, and sex shops aimed at ~str8 ppl~ Other Nature is a QUEER sex shop selling everything from books on Feminist Porn to Non Latex Condoms. In fact, this isn't just a queer sex shop, it's completely VEGAN, too!</div>
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<b>Prinz Eisenherz</b><br />
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So, you're a raging gay with a love for literature? Look no further...</div>
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<b>SchwuZ</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZdBGKyMrgFeli1deQ2_aiDD8qb-4N-3yDvOh4DklDiH9l4YxmVXUJdpdRtY3R28cjaUW18H39d5PfJ5ID5MI8QzN0bAWmOhawt6URncI6p0yJfkoSkARASSK6wkorOjOU-jebgiVBvOt/s1600/schwuz-mainpage-715x320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZdBGKyMrgFeli1deQ2_aiDD8qb-4N-3yDvOh4DklDiH9l4YxmVXUJdpdRtY3R28cjaUW18H39d5PfJ5ID5MI8QzN0bAWmOhawt6URncI6p0yJfkoSkARASSK6wkorOjOU-jebgiVBvOt/s400/schwuz-mainpage-715x320.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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SchwuZ is officially the BEST queer club in Berlin, don't @ me. Popular for catering to ALL colours of the LGBTQIA rainbow, it's impossible to feel out of place here, well, unless you're a cishet white dude. </div>
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<b>Silver Future</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDgFru-DnPEYW_7XZVUKdz5xg708k-ykjK266UonPrk3CbCkpYH5fzvMZSZt4DiZ4NeUijjyxndboFQrOGyFF3KkI7ngraat0knGR25Xox7sCWMeLVowppHWchgc3guZwOeBUQqNaolfBQ/s1600/Silver-Future-Berlin-store-front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDgFru-DnPEYW_7XZVUKdz5xg708k-ykjK266UonPrk3CbCkpYH5fzvMZSZt4DiZ4NeUijjyxndboFQrOGyFF3KkI7ngraat0knGR25Xox7sCWMeLVowppHWchgc3guZwOeBUQqNaolfBQ/s400/Silver-Future-Berlin-store-front.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Welcoming "kings, queens and criminal queers' Silver Future is a bar with quirky interiors and a lively queer scene.</div>
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<br />
Most of these places are situated around Kreuzberg (my favourite Berlin district) and Neukolln (the 'hipster' district of Berlin), all are EAST of the river. I assembled a map indicating the location of all 5 places below:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8W6KAA9isay_QiLFX6kX2aqeMWMxspWJq4Nd9QtBr1Gv75uxGjXD36Gq-fqrITvjEVuOtCyMkcsQiDi2FolKmo9aGzrooIA6krb9pgXZGwAcLwzNx2lk9cFMYX9HaCXtuArP521mXjRiK/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-03-31+at+09.10.41.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8W6KAA9isay_QiLFX6kX2aqeMWMxspWJq4Nd9QtBr1Gv75uxGjXD36Gq-fqrITvjEVuOtCyMkcsQiDi2FolKmo9aGzrooIA6krb9pgXZGwAcLwzNx2lk9cFMYX9HaCXtuArP521mXjRiK/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-03-31+at+09.10.41.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 16px;">- peace and love, Emily xo</span><br />
<br />Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-75738683364283267202017-03-24T12:32:00.002+00:002021-06-07T18:24:17.625+01:00Nobody likes you when you're 23<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2021/03/04/01/33/fat-tuesday-6066647__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Nobody likes you when you're 23" border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="510" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2021/03/04/01/33/fat-tuesday-6066647__340.jpg" title="Nobody likes you when you're 23" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>I turned 23 on March 19th 2017. I guess that means it's about time for me to ponder where my life is going and how I've come to be where I am today. I enjoy a good ol' reflective post (mainly for the little bit of bragging I get to do about how I'm pretty content and proud of where I'm at). Recently, not a lot has changed since my last few posts so I'm going to talk about my journey to 23 prior to this year.<br />
<br />
I feel like I've had such a wholesome, fruitful life; especially during my younger years. I had what I described to my therapist as "a text-book childhood (so tell me, Natalie, WHY am I still insane?!)". I've been on many holidays and adventures that all seem to blur into one when I try to remember them. My earliest memory is of me trying to hold onto my mum (and crying a lot) on my first day at play-school because I REALLY did not want to go. I remember being quite an ambitious, funny child. At 6 years old I wanted to be "a barbie lady". At 8, I wanted to be a "professional cheese grater" - not the object, someone who professionally grates cheese - great aspiration, right? At 10, a lawyer, a writer, a dancer, in the army, on the moon and travelling the world. A funny child, indeed.<br />
<br />
I'm glad I can no longer say I still feel like a teenager even though I'm in my 20's, because I really don't. Although, it does feel strange to think I'm closer to 30 than I am to 15. I used to listen to that Taylor Swift song about being 15 thinking "it's OK I don't need to have it all figured out yet." and now all I can think of is Blink 182 - Whats My Age Again? and how fun it would be to run around causing havoc in the nude like they do in the music video. Maybe, I no longer feel like a teenager because I'm an actual adult-sized baby who only wants to run around in the nude screaming at people?<br />
<br />
Or maybe I should go back to my therapist.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 16px;">- peace and love, Emily xo</span><br />
<br />Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-64512361550205487872017-02-27T19:45:00.001+00:002021-06-09T10:28:37.436+01:00I am alone. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/03/09/15/12/girl-1246525__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="I am alone." border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="510" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/03/09/15/12/girl-1246525__340.jpg" title="I am alone." /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>I've been back in Cambridge for just over a month now. There are many things I love about being back and from an outsiders perspective my life is pretty good. However, recently, I've been feeling lonely <i>and</i> spending a lot of time alone. And although feeling lonely and being alone aren't synonymous, I am both. It's somewhat strange to feel lonely when life is in your favour. I have a comfortable home, job and relationship but somehow I still feel as though something is missing - maybe not <i>missing - </i>it's emptiness I feel most.<br />
<br />
For the past 3 years around this time of year, I have had an annual suicide attempt... I know my yearly routine will change this year. I feel better than I did before but I'm frightened that the emptiness I feel comes from a place of habit. I mean, there's nothing I can contribute to how I feel except that I'm not suicidal right now. That should be a good thing though, right? I don't want to be depressed anymore and I know I am more stable now than I have been but I'm finding I cannot accept this change so easily when I've spent so long feeling low. <u>The past few years are part of who I am now.</u> I feel like I'm learning to cope again in a way that is completely alien to me. I've forgotten how 'normal' people do things, how they socialise, how they eat, how they wake up every morning...<br />
<br />
I guess I'm in a weird transition period of my life. Whatever it is, I feel isolated. I hate feeling isolated. I feel so disconnected. This feeling is unfamiliar to me now. This "new and improved" version of myself hasn't felt loneliness yet and the old me only knew how to drown out emotions, not feel them.<br />
<br />
All of this is spinning rapidly around my brain so I apologise to anyone attempting to understand this scatty insight into the depths of my mind. Like fuck - seriously <i><b><u>fuck</u></b></i> - having a mental illness is exhausting. You have to work so hard every day. Every single day is a struggle. And soon as you've made progress, you reach another bloody hurdle. There are so many hurdles. You can see hurdles ahead of you for daiiiizzzz. The hurdles just keep getting bigger. Bigger hurdles means you have to jump higher but jumping higher takes up too much energy so you have to rest, until you feel able to start jumping again. You have to keep on jumping until you finally make it. When you make it, you celebrate because <i><u>you've made </u><u>it.</u></i> You forget that there will be more hurdles. You forget there will be more jumping.<br />
<br />
Poop.<br />
<br />
I like my life and I've slowly learnt how to control my feelings again, but everything is different now. It's almost as if I've been reborn, the past me feels like a stranger. Maybe I am reborn; I know I'm changed. I'm still scared. I have the same shell, same freckles, same colouring, same scars (plus a few new ones), but I wasn't empty before and now I am. Today, I am utterly, <i>truly, madly, deeply</i> alone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 16px;">- peace and love, Emily xo</span>Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-87348279900785704302017-01-31T17:53:00.003+00:002021-06-09T10:21:49.138+01:00Back to Cambridge <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2014/09/17/08/09/cambridge-449209__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Back to Cambridge" border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="496" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2014/09/17/08/09/cambridge-449209__340.jpg" title="Back to Cambridge" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>In the past week I have successfully:<br />
<ol>
<li>Secured a job</li>
<li>Moved back to Cambridge</li>
<li>Started CBT</li>
<li>Passed the 20 day sobriety benchmark</li>
</ol>
I have a job working in a health food store - it's the vegan dream! And yes, that means I live in Cambridge once more. Honestly, I was terrified of moving back here. Cambridge is where I suffered the most with my mental health, it's where I scrutinised myself, induced abuse, consumed catastrophe, became overwhelmed, overworked, over-everything. I knew I had to move home last May but I never saw myself moving back. Fortunately, I'm healthier and happier than I was last year*, and I am (surprisingly) glad to be back.<br />
<br />
One of my new years resolutions was to write more (I think this was a resolution last year too) and I enjoy keeping a record of my personal progress so I will be posting at least one Life Update post per month. I genuinely don't think I could cope without keeping to targets, for someone who experiences dissociation, it really helps to ground me and bring me back to the present moment.<br />
<br />
Anyway, here's to discipline, progress and feeling content!<br />
<br />
- peace and love, Emily xo<br />
<br />
* I didn't suddenly wake up one morning and decide I was happy. It took a lot of working on myself, therapy, medication and support.Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-60233712999680527402017-01-21T11:28:00.002+00:002021-06-09T10:20:08.337+01:00New year, same me: maybe. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2019/02/26/05/44/fireworks-4021214__340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="New year, same me: maybe." border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="510" src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2019/02/26/05/44/fireworks-4021214__340.jpg" title="New year, same me: maybe." /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>I haven't uploaded a blogpost in three months so, here I am feeling shitty for my lack in production. Although, I haven't actually been lacking in productivity at all. Over the winter period, I had a job. Yep, that's right, a proper, full time, adult job. Since leaving university and returning from travelling it's been the<span style="color: red;"> </span>first adult-ing I've taken part in. It was great to be back for that short period of time (I actually had a lot of fun working for Flying Tiger Copenhagen and made great connections to new people) but, alas, I am back where I started; jobless, hopeless and penniless. You're probably wondering how I can remain penniless after working full time over the Christmas holidays but as the title suggests; nothing has changed in the wonderful world of Emily Jayne Tisshaw. I don't save money, I never have. My money situation is actually a whole different story that I'd rather not delve into right now.<br />
<br />
So, it's a new year and I'm pretty much the same person I was this time last year, and I'm completely okay with that. A great plop of different shit has happened but I still feel me and it's great. In 2016 I made the conscious decision to leave university, survived a toxic relationship, fell in love with the next person who paid me any attention only to get my heart broken, survived for 6 weeks out of one suitcase whilst hopping to and from 10 different cities, spent Christmas in my favourite city (Berlin), earned enough money to pay off my overdraft and didn't, dated 3 different people with the same name as me (one of whom I'm currently still with and it's the best thing ever), spent 10/12 months taking an antidepressant everyday, kicked off my YouTube channel, shaved my head, grew out my armpit hair, and came out of the closet!<br />
<br />
I want to thank everyone who has ever taken the time to read my ramblings, be in my circle of friends, anyone who has supported me through the shite I've endured and loved me for who I am. I am forever grateful to be surrounded by such amazing people and after re-reading the list of things that have happened in 2016 I think I can conclude that maybe I have changed (just a little bit)...<br />
<br />
- peace and love, Emily xoEmily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-90793551147162021282016-10-06T11:11:00.002+01:002016-10-06T11:27:05.461+01:00Poetry is what happens when nothing else can<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQF_EfsQxKqxiY0QGv4IBH0-w-JCl05hLE55WR0XN7KfDa7IeCe_rdmMpInbNy5XDnPm8K0CwtYjZsHuyaTqtmcLehPca9mW6hpSca67Pq7T8pg62q17lic4mEt_Wi1My9bqykzjUVm-c/s1600/more-poetry-is-needed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQF_EfsQxKqxiY0QGv4IBH0-w-JCl05hLE55WR0XN7KfDa7IeCe_rdmMpInbNy5XDnPm8K0CwtYjZsHuyaTqtmcLehPca9mW6hpSca67Pq7T8pg62q17lic4mEt_Wi1My9bqykzjUVm-c/s320/more-poetry-is-needed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It is a well known <b style="font-style: italic; text-decoration: underline;">fact</b> that I live and breathe poetry and as
it’s National Poetry Day, I thought I’d share some of my favourite poems:<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Invitation – <i>Oriah Mountain Dreamer </i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">"...It doesn’t interest me</span><br />
<span class="s1">who you know</span><br />
<span class="s1">or how you came to be here.</span><br />
<span class="s1">I want to know if you will stand</span><br />
<span class="s1">in the centre of the fire</span><br />
<span class="s1">with me </span>and not<br />
shrink back..."</blockquote>
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Phenomenal Women – <i>Maya Angelou </i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">"...I’m a woman </span><br />
<span class="s1">Phenomenally. </span><br />
<span class="s1">Phenomenal woman,</span><br />
That’s me..."</blockquote>
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Leisure – <i>William Henry Davies</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
<span class="s1">"...A poor life this if, full of care,</span><br />
<span class="s1">We have no time to stand and stare."</span></blockquote>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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This Be The Verse – <i>Philip Larkin </i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">"...Man hands on misery to man.</span><br />
<span class="s1">It deepens like a coastal shelf.</span><br />
<span class="s1">Get out as early as you can,</span><br />
And don’t have any kids yourself."</blockquote>
<br />
The Garden of Love – <i>William Blake</i><br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
<span class="s1">"...So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,</span><br /><span class="s1">That so many sweet flowers bore.</span><br /><span class="s1">And I saw it was filled with graves,</span><br /><span class="s1">And tomb-stones where flowers should be:..."</span></blockquote>
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Wild Geese – <i>Mary Oliver </i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">"You do not have to be good.</span><br />
<span class="s1">You do not have to walk on your knees</span><br />
<span class="s1">For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.</span><br />
<span class="s1">You only have to let the soft animal of your body</span><br />
love what it loves..."</blockquote>
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The Red Wheelbarrow – <i>William Carlos Williams </i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
<span class="s1">"so much depends</span><br />
upon<br />
<span class="s1">a red wheel</span><span class="s1">barrow</span><br />
<span class="s1">glazed with rain</span><span class="s1">water</span><br />
<span class="s1">beside the white</span><br />
chickens."</blockquote>
</div>
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<span class="s1"></span></div>
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Ebb – <i>Edna St. Vincent Millay</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">"I know what my heart is like </span><br />
Since your love died:<br />
<span class="s1">It is like a hollow ledge </span><br />
<span class="s1">Holding a little pool </span><br />
Left there by the tide,<br />
A little tepid pool,<br />
<span class="s1">Drying inward from the edge."</span></blockquote>
<br />
I could probably go on and on listing poem after poem. Poetry has a way of communicating with me that makes me feel less alone. And, as aforementioned, I live and breathe poetry so if anyone has any recommendations of their favourite poets/poetry please do not hesitate to let me know.<br />
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- peace and love, Emily x<br />
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Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-14996788681654732572016-09-21T19:28:00.004+01:002017-07-04T08:08:21.190+01:00Happy International Peace Day<div class="MsoNormal">
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9BQ8hPDYtB1zyAGBC_Er22lLhBeWviwwRL37AmwK0Kfc0dSzQAk6C2RbqpuD4jN7aOBSVqngfB9HnKqY33g4qSh5vTLTnPeFTtbELJoJo_udJXwwSXrXgp4CgqFh-NuZqJ19O5IlvHUf6/s1600/When+the+power+of+love+overcomes+the+love+of+power%252C+the+world+will+know+peace..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9BQ8hPDYtB1zyAGBC_Er22lLhBeWviwwRL37AmwK0Kfc0dSzQAk6C2RbqpuD4jN7aOBSVqngfB9HnKqY33g4qSh5vTLTnPeFTtbELJoJo_udJXwwSXrXgp4CgqFh-NuZqJ19O5IlvHUf6/s400/When+the+power+of+love+overcomes+the+love+of+power%252C+the+world+will+know+peace..jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It's International Peace Day and I've been thinking a lot
about what peace means to me. If you’ve read my blog before you may have
noticed I sign off my posts with “- peace and love” because, believe it or not,
underneath all the rage I throw at the world, I do in fact have a desperate
desire for peace. I wholeheartedly believe in striving for peace. </div>
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<br /></div>
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In the past, I had always thought of peace as this huge
unattainable concept that was way beyond anything I could ever accomplish. But
I don’t think of it like that anymore. I think of peace as a tangible object. I
see it in things I can hold, things I can taste, things I can smell. Peace is
all around me. Once I started to see peace in everyday things, I started to
feel it too. Beyond peace, and a huge part of gaining peace, is realisation. Although
I had felt connected to and at peace, I sometimes felt so far away from it.
This used to bother me until I became aware that there is no constant state of
mind; thoughts and feelings are continuously fluctuating. This really helped me
to drop egotistical goals and to stop being caught up on ‘finding happiness’ or
‘seeking inner peace’. Human’s aren’t computers and I’m pretty sure we do not
have an emotions switch either. </div>
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<br /></div>
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So, I guess what peace means to me is to have <b>gratitude</b>,
<b>faith</b> and <b>awareness</b>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is peace in doing and letting things simply be. <br />
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 16px;">- peace and love, Emily xo</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367088225404474498.post-6306063950206600852016-07-13T14:44:00.001+01:002017-07-04T08:09:41.549+01:00Art Therapy <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUL4pyfPDNJR1_T6pTGIlfngfv5DmjYLUCaouzNAD4kyDyRK4BlqnRyuDvCL7UKeLBpXblxOwb_PxaSn9uXL3o_tTxHy0qIDrOJzPoAYwRvN-wjJ2zDJ9B7SpsPafIsKPAYSKr11DU3vr/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-07-13+at+14.34.58.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUL4pyfPDNJR1_T6pTGIlfngfv5DmjYLUCaouzNAD4kyDyRK4BlqnRyuDvCL7UKeLBpXblxOwb_PxaSn9uXL3o_tTxHy0qIDrOJzPoAYwRvN-wjJ2zDJ9B7SpsPafIsKPAYSKr11DU3vr/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-07-13+at+14.34.58.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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I’ve recently been organising and re-decorating my room and
I found quite a few of my old diaries. Diaries of a time where I appeared to be
pretty dejected; I almost seemed like a different person. The inner thoughts I expressed in my past diaries made me appreciate
how much I had grown. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was going to throw them away, but before I did, I
wanted to acknowledge how I felt and really appreciate my progress. I wrote
words of encouragement, scribbled over my sadness and doodled pictures on my pages of grief. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found an extract of something I wrote a few years ago and
turned it into poetry:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I <s>didn’t give up</s> hope. <s>I grabbed</s> my notepad
and pen <s>from beside me </s>and <s>started to write the</s> words ‘<s>things
that</s> make me happy’. I sat there in <s>silence for a while, staring at</s>
the words <s>on the blank page </s>in front of me. <s>I thought about</s> my
family, friends and hobbies<s>, and although I knew these things</s> bought me
joy, <s>I felt nothing.</s> I felt <s>my chest sink as I stared at</s> the
words on the page: ‘<s>things that make me</s> happy’. I took <s>a deep breath
and shut my eyes tightly but I could feel</s> the lump <s>forming</s> in my
throat, and <s>as soon as</s> I opened <s>them again, tears were rolling down</s>
my cheeks <s>and</s> onto the <s>empty</s> page in front of me. All I could
think was <s>the worst. And I guess the worst thing about being depressed is
you don’t even know what makes you</s> happy <s>anymore.</s> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hope.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My notepad and pen</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And words</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Make me happy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sat there</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In words</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In front of me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My family, friends and hobbies</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bought me joy</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I felt the words on the page: happy</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I took the lump in my throat </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And I opened my cheeks</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Onto the page in front of me,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">All I could think was happy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I sat at my desk for hours jotting down new
things and crossing the old words out. And I’m so glad I did because I remember
feeling so low. I remember feeling completely engulfed in my sadness that I didn’t think
things could get any better, but I’m here now and things are better. This also
means there is huge possibility that things may get better than this, and that thought alone, is enough to keep me going.</span><!--EndFragment--><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">- peace and love, Emily ox</span>Emily http://www.blogger.com/profile/13338567055603366594noreply@blogger.com0