How writing saved my life

business, health, Management, Mental health, poetry, products

During my dark patch early last summer, I began this blog. What started as an online journal, soon became my own personal empire. It became my baby.

I have found a lot of strength from my writing, and it saved me. As I have written previously on the blog, I went through a dark patch, a time I didn’t think I’d move past from. Writing relaxed me, it still does, and focussed my mind on something different.

I honestly couldn’t imagine life without this blog anymore. It has been most definitely my saviour, an online hero. And to all the followers and supporters, I want to thank you for your kind words and memorable stories shared. I hope to continue this blog for the foreseeable future, and continue to share stories and thoughts on what I class “a bumpy life”.

My Personal Anti-Depressant

business, Charity, happiness, health, Management, Mental health, poetry

On the ‘bad’ days, I often find myself spending alone time on a peaceful walk. I venture out to the nearest wooded land, and take some time to think over my thoughts. No matter the situation, thought or stress, there is no problem that can not be solved just from a simple walk. I understand that everyone deals with difficult times and situations differently, and I no way am I stating that all of your issues will be solved with a simple trip down the road. One thing I have learnt is that everyone has an ‘anti-stressor’. Perhaps a simple cup of tea, or spending time with family/friends may be the perfect solution for you! Or maybe medication helps relieve those down days.

So what is it about a walk that relaxes my mind?
Wooded areas are known to have small creatures, water features (river, pond or waterfall) and that fresh air smell. Now that we have officially peaked winter, I find it is the perfect time to venture out and explore the town I am lucky to call home. I live in a tourist destination, in the heart of the Brecon Beacons (a national park in Wales, UK), known for its open landscape, beautiful waterfalls and adventurous walks. In some ways, as strange as it may sound, it takes me back to my childhood, a time where play and adventure was the heart of the soul.

I feel a sudden relief once that cold air hits my cheeks, and the river water slowly turns to ice. When the small snowflakes begin to fall, and the mist begins to cover the view. My favourite walk is up the peak of the mountain, where you find a single bench overlooking the trees and fields below. In all the times I have been up there, I have never come across another person, just my dog and I. Its perfect for the days that seem never ending, and all hope is slowly begin to drop. For the days that nudge you over the edge.

I am very much enjoying hearing your stories and thoughts, and I am trying to get back to everyone as soon as possible. Perhaps you would like to share your favourite remedy for those pesky days and thoughts?

On a final note, all I want to say is that there is always hope, even when you feel all is gone.

A Happy New Year!

business, Charity, happiness, health, Mental health, Uncategorised

It’s officially 2019, and with 2018 finally behind us, we can only hope that this year will be a good one! I am not one for new year’s resolutions, as I feel that every year is just the same as the last. But I have made a ‘pact’, shall we say, that I will not let anyone or anything tear me down this year. Over the past few months, I have come to realise that the only person that can make a positive change in your life, is yourself. I know it’s easier said than done, but sometimes the most simplest decisions make, turn out to be the best ones. This blog has changed my life for the better. It gave me purpose, a strive to carry on and fight the demons in my mind. University changed my life for the better. It gave me strength and courage, forced me to step outside of my comfort zone. My point is that sometimes even the simplest of changed can make a huge difference.

I hope everyone reading this has had a safe and happy new year, and may 2019 be a good one! I would also like to say that I am grateful for all of your messages throughout the year, and please continue to spread the love throughout this year also!

My Journey Home

happiness, health, Management, Mental health, poetry

As I start my journey home, my mind wanders into a different universe. I watch the beautiful autumn bare trees surrounded by the fallen leaves, and although I’m stuck inside a train, I can almost feel the autumn breeze and fresh smell. I’m a people watcher, always have been. I enjoy imagining stories up in my head about a particular persons day. The man sitting alone two seats ahead, wearing a smart blue suit, has just attended an interview in the city. He is smiling, as it went very well. He most definitely will be celebrating tonight, with the hope that tomorrow afternoon he will get that anticipated call that he got the job he has very much aspired for. The older man sitting across from me is also in his suit, this one a little darker – almost black. He has just finished work, possibly for the last time. He has finally retired from his nine to five job, and feels accomplished. He too will be celebrating tonight. The young boy siting in front of me is working hard on his laptop. He is a casual dressed university student, trying to beat that deadline. He is very stressed, even contemplating quitting, but he pulls through and gets the work done. He figures that a little work will pay of in the end. 

The point of this post isn’t to play imaginary friends with my fellow passengers, but to make the point that you never truly know what is going on in someone else’s life. You see, the man in the blue suit didn’t do well in the interview, the smile is to hide the tears and shame. Instead of celebrating, he intends on going home and crying himself to sleep, he sees no future for himself. The older gentleman did not retire today, in fact he received news that he will not be able to retire for at least another ten years, and due to company shortage, he will receive a pay cut. Instead of celebrating, he has to go home and tell his family the bad news. The young student is actually one week late past the deadline, and is stressed beyond relief. Instead of celebrating tonight, he is planning to commit suicide. He wants to end the struggling that he feels is his everyday life. 

Everyone, and I mean everyone, has something going on in their lives. Just remember, next time someone is rude to you, knocks you on the street, or distances themselves for a while, that they may be suffering. Be the bigger person and take it with a pinch of salt, be kind. 

First post in a while! (Sorry about that)

happiness, health, Mental health, poetry

I have come to realise that I have not actually been posting as much as usual. Sorry about that, what can I say? Student life gets to you eventually. So I thought to kick off the first post of many, I would write a poem (much like the first post I ever did on this site). This poem is very personal to me, as it represents not only death but resurrection, and what I would believe a family member would come back as, if she was to at all. It takes me back to conversations and meaningful memories of the two of us together, and I hope you all find a personal touch to it also.

Rambling down a cobbled pathway,

I stumbled upon a wild rose.

Deep crimson red,

velveteen petal each curled to perfection.

Radiant and innocently pretty,

a shy damsel oblivious of her beauty,

fading away unsung.

Every day, day after day,

I watched my rose break out of its chrysalis,

admiring it with every moment.

I watched it grow and come into full bloom,

tall and elegant till it grew

and looked down on me.

And upon a note fallen from the heart wrote,

“From which I’m born, to which I die,

the dirt, the sea, the sun, the sky,

all these things are part of me,

I am the world, and the world is me”.

A flower for a flower.

Thank you for reading! I hope that you are able to find relation to this in some way, please comment and follow for more great content in the days to come!

flower rose nature plant


Charity, Donations, health, Mental health, poetry

Since my blog had been receiving a new high amount of traffic, I thought long and hard about what my next post could be. Ive decided to start a charity! Well to a point…

I have decided to place a section on my page to accept donations, and ALL will be going to local homeless shelters and mental health clinics. I would love to be swimming in money, and be able to do this myself, but unfortunately as a full time student its a little difficult. Any donations made will receive a receipt of where their donation has been made, because I can not fret this enough, this is not a scam. All proof of where the money is taken will be shown, including videos, pictures and blog posts.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and again thank you in advance for any donations made.

How to open up about your sexual assault

health, Mental health, Sexual assault

In my 20 years, there was no harder moment than when I decided to tell my parents about my rape. For almost a year I kept my thoughts and emotions to myself, refusing to tell a soul. I wish I could tell you that it was easy, the best thing I had ever done, but it wasn’t. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t in the best of states when I finally opened up. I was very drunk, so drunk that when my mother came to pick me up, I spilled the beans. The next morning I completely ignored her and went on with my day. I now know that was selfish, because my mother spent the whole day feeling the exact same why I had for the eight months prior. When I finally grew the courage to talk to her, I didn’t know how to react. I laughed and joked, almost as if I was hiding my emotions through humour.

I took it step by step.

I told her what had happened in the briefest way possible. And no matter how much she begged, I never told her his name. I still haven’t. After this, there was a release of emotions. I felt relieved and scared all at the same time. The worry of being defined by the ordeal was a regular occurrence, especially once more family members started to find out. I was worried people wouldn’t believe me, and sometimes I feel the same way now. But my mother was the first of many, because as time went on I could feel my strength grow, it grew easier to talk, to speak out. I stopped worrying about what people thought, I realized that those that didn’t believe me were not worth my precious time, and that the only person letting it define my personality, was me.

I do encourage people to speak out, but I know better than anyone it’s not that simple. But if you do decide to do so, I would recommend not getting completely pissed before hand…! Think about what your going to say, decide what you want someone to know, remember it’s okay not to share everything (but totally awesome if you decide to share it all, I couldnt). But my most important advice is not to feel pressured to speak out. At the end of the day it’s your story, and your freedom to share whenever you are ready, if ever.

If you would ever like to share your story, or speak out in the slightest of ways, please feel free to message me. I would rather have an email full of problems than for people to suffer in silence.

Stay strong, there is always a brighter side ❤❤❤

The Truth

Mental health, Sexual assault

The truth is, I hate my life. I wake up every morning wishing it was my last. I kiss my family goodnight and pray that I won’t wake up the next morning. I wish that I wouldn’t have to live another day, won’t have to suffer anymore. Because every day is a battle. I spend my days failing to distract my mind from the event that changed my life. I spent my days questioning if the thoughts, dreams and nightmares will ever end. If I will ever be able to move on, and actually live my life.

I have this dream of living alone in a secluded area. Just packing my bags, and leaving. Maybe to a different country, or maybe just down the road, but a place where no one would know where I am. I dream of being a mystery, disappearing from daylight. Strolls through wooded areas, sitting by a pond or river with no problems, just a book.

I want to go, I need to go.

The truth is I don’t actually want to die, I just want to escape reality. Escape day to day life. Never look back. I thought living on my own would change the way I think, but it doesn’t. It just makes me want it more. But sadly, these are just dreams. Im not a child, nor am I stupid, I know these types of realities happen for those living in the lap of luxury. I know that in order to survive, I have to work. I have to work a crappy nine to five job, come home, cook food, sleep and repeat all the next day. But what harm does dreaming cause? Because dreaming is my escape from reality, even just for a moment.

My Story

Mental health, Sexual assault

I realise that I have shared stories in the past, mostly about how I have overcome struggles in my life, but I have never actually shared the real story. BY this, I mean the story that defines my life, and changed me for both the better and for the worse. These are not the type of stories one usually likes to share, but I mean if placing this outside to the word is going to help raise awareness, well then, thats the best feeling I could ever imagine. I guess I should begin with the event. And by event, I mean a very traumatic experience. Just over a year ago I was sexually assaulted, in the worst possible way. Although I never like to use this word, as I feel it victimises me, I feel like in this particular post it is needed. I was raped. Was forced to do things I didn’t want to. For anyone else that has experienced this, or anything to a similar extent, would know the effects. The problem was, I didn’t experience the after effects until almost a year later. I pushed it to the back of my mind, forced myself to carry on with everyday life. I made a joke of it, and carried on as if nothing had happened. As if it was just a typical one night stand. At the time of this ordeal, I lived in a very small town, almost a village in fact, so as you can imagine I saw him almost everywhere I went. I saw him on nights out, I would see him shopping in the local Tesco, I even saw him at my local doctors with my mother. He was everywhere, so in my mind, pushing the thoughts back made me feel less of a victim.

I didn’t know him well. I had met him a few weeks prior at the local pub, a place full of youngsters much like myself. He was a friend of a friend, nothing more, nothing less. Honestly, I wasn’t too sure what I thought of him at first. He had this bad boy manor, which much like many other nineteen year olds, was attractive to me. He wasn’t cute. In fact, he was kind of ugly. He wasn’t fit, didn’t have a nice body, and had shaggy hair. But I was sucked in. He treated me well, he bought me a few drinks and walked me home, my friend tagging along. It was about a week later when my friend messaged me and asked if I wanted to meet her for a chat. She openly told me that this guy, who we will call ‘Andy’, wanted to see me again. I agreed to meet them, I thought what do I have to loose? Im single, nineteen and was sick of spending my nights alone in my room. Again, he had the kind manner about him, walking me home, and we even shared a little kiss. Nothing special, but it felt nice to be getting to know someone new. That was it. After that the only time I would see him was in the local, neither of us really talked. We grew apart, and had our own lives to carry on with. That was until the night of what happened. I was out with friends, had a few drinks, and received a message from ‘Andy’, stating that he was heading out and was wondering if he wanted to meet up. I agreed, thinking that we would go for a few drinks alone and talk, as I didn’t really know the guy. When he arrived, he was still in his work clothes, dirty and smelly. I tried to not let it bother me, and continued with my night. He joined us for a few drinks, and all in all it was a good night. A few drinks later, I began to feel very tipsy. My friends offered to walk me home, as it was only a two minute walk. But ‘Andy’ offered, as he hadn’t had much to drink, to drive me home. I willingly got into his car, and told him my address. We talked for a while, about mutual friends and shit. It was only then I realised we were going the complete opposite way, and actually leaving the town. I asked him where we were going, and all he said was somewhere out of town to talk. He pulled over to this lay-by in the middle of nowhere, and we talked for approximately two seconds before he went to stick his tongue down my throat. I told him that I’m not sure what he thinks is going on, but all I want to do was go home and sleep. He ignored me. He ignored everything I said that night.

The next few weeks dragged, I went out every night and pushed all thoughts to the back of my mind. I almost ignored the whole situation, and told no one. Not a friend, family member, no one. I guess back then I thought that was the best cure for this situation. A few weeks later found out I was pregnant, was being the operative word. Unaware of what my body was going through, I spent my days drinking and partying, ultimately killing the baby I never knew I had. This killed me for two reasons. One, I had just lost a child. And two, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted it anyway. For some this would have been some kind of wake up call, but instead I worsened myself. I suddenly had too many emotions to deal with alone, and couldn’t handle them. That when my emotions started to turn dangerous. I tried to kill myself approximately five times in the weeks to follow. I was in a downward spiral, unsure of what to do next. So instead, I packed up my stuff and moved to my parents in a small village in Wales.

The thoughts started to ease. I got a new job, started college and never felt better about myself. I even told my family what had happened, and even spoke to the police (although I never took it further). I was finally moving on. Everything was good until only a few months ago, when suddenly all of the emotions I had pushed back over the months came flooding back all at once. This time, I was seriously ill. I had finally pushed myself to my limit, and couldn’t see anyway out. Once again I tried to take my own life, and almost succeed at one point. I was admitted into the mental health ward in my local hospital, and was finally starting to get help, something I was reluctant to receive for a long time. Once I returned home, I received regular counselling and anti depressants. I started to feel better. I was FINALLY carrying on with my life. It was at that moment in my life that I started this blog, for some reason writing helped release my emotions as a-pose to bottling them all up.

Now I am attending University, for writing I might add, and living away from home. Sure I have bad days, but they are most definitely over run by the good ones. I think for the first time in a while, I can say I am happy. Like really happy. I know that there are others out there that have experienced this, and are most probably struggling, just like I was. But I can tell you that it honestly gets better. Don’t get me wrong, its not an easy journey, I know I have been there, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Trust me,

I found mine.

silhouette photography of group of people jumping during golden time