posts in
mental health
Since the age of thirteen, the Internet has been my safe haven. It's acted as my place to meet people who have similar interests as me, and it's been where I met friends and my husband. It changed my life in a way that younger me could never of predicted. However, over the past few years it's been a place of toxicity to me for various reasons. It's broken my heart numerous times and no longer tries to repair the slices that it's embedded into my heart. If this were a relationship, everyone would be urging me to break up with it. However, as someone who is home for 95% of her life and is often only able to venture around through the world via the Internet, how can I say goodbye? Chronic pain can cripple you in various ways, but for me it's definitely frozen any and all outside world activities. As mentioned above, I rarely go out, I don't have any friendships that aren't defined by distance, and despite moving to a new country to physically be with my husband, it's led me to depend on the Internet for being able to interact with my family. Without my fingers on a screen or keyboard, my outside world is condensed down to a single human being. I love my husband dearly, but as humans we need more than that for sanity. So.. I'm stuck being connected to the WiFi.
I know I'm incredibly lucky to have the Internet, especially when I'm in pain and stuck rooted in the same spot for possibly an entire day. But I think we can all agree that the Internet can be fucking depressing. It's a bubble of negativity, and as someone who seems to constantly be comparing myself to everything, it's not exactly great for the ole confidence. The Internet and messages it gives me leads me to hate myself daily, and that's ugly. Am I just surrounding myself with it? Is there a magical way to avoid these results by changing up what I choose to view online? Sure, and I can do that. For a few hours. Maybe a few days. But I inevitably end up back in the toxicity, whether by choice or through someone else. It's disheartening and so bloody unhealthy.
So I hurt and I utilize the amazing Internet to take myself out of my own head and body for a few hours. I feel like I'm socializing by discussing books, or news, or utter nonsense with virtual friends. I feel understood by someone's tweet, or I laugh at TikTok's. But something pops up and BOOM, I'm back inside myself, only now on top of the pain I have a dark cloud of depression around my brain. I can't sleep because of the thoughts that have risen in my head because of this cloud, which leads to more pain the following day. And so on and so forth. It's a cycle of daily life that I hate, but what can I do about it?
I guess over the years I've lost my safe haven, but have no way of leaving. It's an addiction to social interactions, which.. I think I need to not go insane? I don't really know the purpose of this blog post, but maybe you've been feeling vaguely the same? Perhaps you have chronic pain and struggle with your relationship with the Internet, or maybe Covid has led you to feeling obligated to be online. Let's chat.
Mental Health & Covid-19
5/25/2020
In the style of Carrie Bradshaw: I can't help but wonder, have I inadvertently been self quarantining myself for all these years? And if that's the case, is this why I'm depressed?
It's no secret that mental health and self hatred go hand-in-hand, but I'd argue that chronic pain and self deprecation are also connected. Pain imprisons you in your own body, and when the body fails, our brain can sometimes speed up in an effort to avoid insanity. At least for me, on the high pain scale days, my brain feels rotten. It's rather incredible how your own thoughts can bruise you in a new way. But pain or no pain, this quarantine is basically locking us in with ourselves. And quite clearly, that's why so many of us are struggling. It's too much time to spend fighting back the evil voice inside of us. If I'm right, and this is the case, then I've been choosing this life for myself? This endless cycle of fighting with what is essentially my own brain? My own heart? How deeply.. sad.
When things begin to go back to normal I don't know whether I'll have the power to change the way my days look, but I know I really want to try. I recently read "Maybe You Should Talk To Someone" and to prove a point, one of the therapists instructs the patient to visualize a set of prison bars, you being behind them, and shaking them endlessly in an attempt to escape. You're so busy trying to break the bars down, that you never stop and realize that each side is open. You just have to go around, instead of through. I'm tired of trying to break things down that I'm too weak for. Maybe for now, I just have to go the long way around.
I don't really know what the purpose is of this post, but I felt the urge to write it. Hopefully it'll help just one person to reevaluate their own mental state outside of this lockdown.
How has your mental health been during the quarantine? Let's start a conversation without judgement, embarrassment, or filters. We write to know we're not alone.
Side-note: I know that in the grant scheme of things, nothing about this is a problem. There are people literally putting their lives at risk during this pandemic to keep us all going, and I'm so incredibly grateful. Heroes are materializing in all kinds of forms lately, and it's a beautiful thing. Thank you to everyone on the front line. However, I think it's also okay to admit to not being mentally stable during all of this - even if our days are just spent at home. We all have weighted backs right now, just in very different ways. Maybe we ought to start helping each other to carry the load. My way of that is writing, I hope you understand. Again, thank you to all the doctors, nurses, hospital staff, postal workers, grocery store workers, teachers, food delivery staff, and all the other amazing humans making a difference.
I was struggling. I needed help. And this stranger was going to ask how I was doing. I'd been referred by a pain clinic to this particular therapist. They wanted me to open up about the constant pain my body was putting me through, they didn't realise that the true pain had taken up residency inside my mind. I'd rehearsed what I was going to say. She might ask, 'So how are you doing?' and I was going to respond with 'Not very well, to be honest. I've been struggling a lot lately and I think I need help.' I'd said it back to my reflection multiple times, I didn't want to stammer. I wanted to finally help myself.
She called my name, I felt the floor get swiped from beneath me. I heard my own heartbeat during the walk from the waiting room to the office. Everything was too loud. Had life always had a ticking sound? I couldn't remember. I saw dots. I found myself sitting down on an uncomfortable chair, her sitting down facing me. I noticed her earrings. Droplets with a green gem. Pretty.
"So before we get started, I want you to fill in this form. It's just some questions for me to get a sense of where you're at." she said.
Looking down at the paperwork she gave me, it asked some simple questions such as my name, age, how many hours I tend to sleep at night. But the further I got down the page, I was faced with questions such as:
Do you feel unhappy?
☐ Never
☐ Sometimes
☐ Often
☐ Always
Do you have suicidal thoughts?
☐ Never
☐ Sometimes
☐ Often
☐ Always
I swallowed what felt like a brick, glancing up at the stranger as she filled in paperwork of her own. If I ticked those dreaded Always boxes, I'd feel like I was lying. It was too easy. What if she didn't take me seriously? It's only a stupid box. She hadn't really smiled yet, I couldn't even remember her name. My own words weren't going to be my answer, this ought to be easier, but the thought of her reading over this form and assuming whatever she was going to assume without me getting to explain.. the thought was torturous. I ticked the Sometimes boxes.
She thanked me, took away the form, read it over, and put it down with a smile. We started talking. She asked me how I was feeling overall. I was honest.
"I've been struggling lately, for the past year or so. It seems to keep getting harder - both the pain and my mood. I've been down a lot, and I don't really know how to get help for it."
I felt a little lighter, I'd done it. Her brows furrowed, looking down at the form I had filled it.
"Well, you aren't depressed." she declared, easy, as though it were obvious. "So, I don't see what the problem is."
I stuttered, after all that prep, I stuttered. "I didn't want to seem stupid on the form. I didn't know how to answer."
"You aren't depressed." she repeated, talking as though I was dumb.
I should've argued my case, but does one have to argue the reasons why they're happy? It was confusing. So instead of the words I've since spoken a million times in my head, I came back with a pathetic "Oh, okay.".
We then spoke about other things that attribute to life. In regard to the physical pain, she said I had a healthy mentality toward it. Which was ironic. We discussed food, I said I'd always had an unhealthy relationship with it, she dismissed it as I was a healthy weight. I felt unheard. Like I was suddenly a pot of clay and she was moulding me to what I ought to be.
I've since gotten a little better about dealing with the haziness that was my life back then. But I still have really bad days, and at this point in my life, I no longer know whether it's a normal way to live. I had years after that therapy session (I didn't return) of what I refer to as 'loud brain days', and though it wasn't necessarily her duty to take me at my word, I can't help but wonder what would've happened if I'd ticked the right box. Or even better, if she'd of listened to me. I'm still obsessed with food, a fact I'm too ashamed to outright admit. (Why does typing out your darkest secrets not feel so scary?) Could she of referred me to someone who may of helped with that? Or is it okay?
It's okay to save yourself. I have, a dozen of times. But the problem with it is that you only ever have yourself as a reference. I don't know what's a healthy amount of depression, or obsession, or self hatred. I've only ever been me, and I can easily imagine others going through a similar situation and not speaking up. So maybe it's normal, maybe I'm just overthinking it. Are humans all just suffering and sucking it up? I'm like a one person support group at this point, and I'm not very helpful.
If you're heading towards your first therapy session, don't be scared. Just because it didn't work out for me doesn't mean it won't for you. It's like a blind date, you may meet your personal jackpot. For me, personally, I've had two different therapists in my life. One was lovely and wanted to help, I just wasn't ready. And when I was ready, I didn't have the right therapist. It's the way of life.
To All The Social Medias I've Loved Before
10/26/2018
I've made the biggest blogging sin.. I fell out of love with social media.
And in the style of 'To All The Boys I've Loved Before' I've decided to write short letters to all my past online loves. I've recently come to the conclusion that one cannot blog without relying on social media, whether for interaction or content. I love blogging, it frees me from the realities of life and I adore sharing little tidbits of myself along the way. I suppose I treat it as a sort of diary. It gives me a purpose. So I will continue to try to rediscover my love for these platforms, I don't have the faintest clue as to how, but that's another blog post for another day.
**This is in no way a reflection of any of the social medias, these are merely my experiences and an overly personal post.
What's your relationship with social media like? Have you recently had any change of hearts? Let me know down below. Or, you know, get in touch with me on social media. The irony, right?
And in the style of 'To All The Boys I've Loved Before' I've decided to write short letters to all my past online loves. I've recently come to the conclusion that one cannot blog without relying on social media, whether for interaction or content. I love blogging, it frees me from the realities of life and I adore sharing little tidbits of myself along the way. I suppose I treat it as a sort of diary. It gives me a purpose. So I will continue to try to rediscover my love for these platforms, I don't have the faintest clue as to how, but that's another blog post for another day.
Twitter, where to even start. You were the first platform that 12-year-old Anne discovered. You welcomed me into the Twilight fandom with glee, and no longer did I feel it unacceptable to class internet friends as real life BFF's. You aged with me, both in good ways and bad. Through my Twihard loving ways, you helped me discover roleplay and that inadvertently shaped me into the person that I am. You gave me my first online relationship of 5 years, and you were the cause of my first heartbreak. But I forgave you, because, well, you were my first. (I even forgave you when you changed the 'liking' logo from a star to a heart - and trust me, buddy, that was a tough adjustment to make. Let's not even mention when the layout went wacky.) You were the space of the internet that kept me company when I was in a constant spiral of all nighters, where else was I going to post every song that I was #NP. You gave me my first taste of popularity (kind of), with gaining over 2,000 followers in just a few months through the magical world of roleplay which added to my confidence, which as silly as it may sound now, is exactly what I needed in 2010. But then I got older, and you kind of stayed back there. I tried to rekindle our spark by creating a new account for blogging purposes, but then you went and ruined it with a 'follower' suggestion that become a downhill slope. I now can't click on you without the constant fear of having to log out with another heartbreak under my belt. I guess you could say we changed.
Instagram, you're the popular kid who gives backhanded compliments. You're my whirlwind of confusion. You tell me to be myself, that it ought to be enough, only to then show me how untrue that is. Over and over you make me wish to be someone else. But that's okay because you're simultaneously giving me positive quotes about confidence, right? I rediscovered my love for photography and art through you, and that without a doubt added to my decision to start blogging again in '15. So I thank you for that, and I want to love you again. But I feel like you've become a really great book that has some major problematic areas that I'm expected to look past, which is difficult for someone who has a problem with forgetting anything that leaves a bad impact on her heart and/or memory. Maybe it's not you, it's me. All I know is, when I delve into your world, I tend to leave miserable.
Facebook, you replaced Twitter for me after the first heartbreak. You made me more comfortable in the roleplay world, and though my world shrunk when I moved over to you, I was happier. At least for a little while. You helped me write more, and the people that I met through you helped me realise that I was more than just a character. You also hugely aided in my research as to whether my now husband was a psychopath when we met.. so, thanks for that! But now you've become an empty page that only seems to leave me feeling separated from loved ones, and well, alone. You also broke the news to me that people don't always just make reckless comments about strangers, that they can view people in their real lives with the same immoral attitude. In a way, you are the cause of my seeing people for what they really are. We live in a world of cruel comment sections, but it's always strangers commenting. When those people are people you may see everyday? It's really hard to see past that. You make me lose faith in the my world.
Tumblr, you were my secret lover. The place I fell back on to make me feel okay with being a bit gloomy sometimes. You made it safe to be myself as you were a world of strangers who never asked a question. You didn't beautify sadness,but you didn't make me feel like I was stupid for not doing the "obvious solutions". You didn't tell me to go outside, you merely gave me words that I could speak through. But then you became a place of possible heartbreak. I realised that not one person I know, whether online or in real life, knew about my account with you. And that was frightening as it reopened the forever question of "How little do we actually know about people?". If I'm able to hide in you, who else is? The unknown terrifies me, and you have become my trigger.
**This is in no way a reflection of any of the social medias, these are merely my experiences and an overly personal post.
What's your relationship with social media like? Have you recently had any change of hearts? Let me know down below. Or, you know, get in touch with me on social media. The irony, right?
I've never been the girl to go up to others and introduce myself. I've never been the first to strike up conversation, nor have I openly asked if someone wanted to hang out. So when I stumbled across the blogging community, it seemed like a fun idea. Interacting with people who are of a somewhat similar age group, who have the same interests, and being able to do it all through the safety of text - a shy persons dream. I started my blog after a trip to Germany to visit my online BFF (See blog posts Germany Part I and Part II for details), so I guess you could say that had given me the dutch (or German) courage to go for it. If I had to come to the decision alone, I would've likely talked myself out of it as I do when it comes to most things that involve putting myself out there. Yeah, as you may of guessed, I'm painfully shy. I nod more than talk in public places and mainly stick to people I know, never really able to push myself out far enough to break out of the "routine". I could go on to explain why I'm probably like this - homeschooling, being my mother's carer, BDD - but that isn't really the point.
“Anyone who has actually been that sad can tell you that there's nothing beautiful or literary or mysterious about depression.”― Jasmine Warga, My Heart and Other Black Holes
Last year was, in a weird way, a huge breakthrough for banishing the taboo around discussing teen suicide. Like it or loathe it, the Netflix original "13 Reasons Why" was largely to thank for this. I personally disliked the show for how it dealt with such sensitive topics, but having since read Jay Asher's YA book that the show was based on, I can admit that the story initially had a decent message, it just happened to get lost in translation.
Nevertheless, the show's adaption was done so poorly that it did act as a trigger for many young men and women. I have read the stories that I think a lot of us have, surrounding the 13 episode series pushing many young adults to suicide. It's heartbreaking. Granted, a show can't be solely responsible for someone's sadness but nothing entertainment wise should have enough power to push someone to ending their own life. Nothing. One could argue that anyone with that weight of sadness would find their reasoning in anything - this show just happened to be the source at the time. But alas, taking "To The Bone" as an example, the other Netflix original that took the sensitive subject of eating disorders and created a movie starring Lily Collins, it was respectfully done without skimping on the details that an audience may find too difficult to watch. You ended with a small token of hope that ought to always be what people take from something - especially when the something is geared towards a young audience. It's always going to be hit or miss, but these things should never be done carelessly. "13 Reasons Why" had the opportunity to create a strong healthy message and it's really disappointing how it all ended up. I have read enough books on mental illnesses to know that it can be done. If they wanted to keep the original ending, fine, but they could've easily done it in a way that didn't insinuate that suicide is not only an easy option, but something that enables you to put the blame on others.
Food. It keeps us alive. We find comfort in it. It brings people together. Heck, some of our days are revolved around it. We use sugary treats to celebrate or to congratulate someone. It's a happy thing. We all love food. Right?
Like most girls her age, teen Carmen's mentality is build around what she looks like and the craving for Big Mac's. Looks define people, at least that's what her mother leads her to believe. Thin is beautiful and anything else isn't. Simple. So when Carmen's mother packs both their bags and takes the young girl away from the only father figure she's known, her single friend, and in retrospect, the only people in her life who normalises food, the young girl's life takes a spiralling path downward. Returning to her mother's hometown of Birmingham, Carmen's daily life becomes revolved around restriction, bullying, and listening to her frail mother tell her how much happier they'd both be if they lost a few more pounds. That is when she's not telling her daughter that life would've been better without her.
I'd never heard of this book which is surprising given the topic and my online circles. I just happened to stumble upon Massive in my local charity shop. Hows that for fate? Surprisingly, this was my first time reading a fictionalised novel covering the topic of an ED, written from the POV of the sufferer. Straight off the bat, I liked this book. Grim topic and all. I found it comforting in a sense, but more on that later. My biggest worry going into this book, and well, my biggest assumption was that the author, Julia Bell, was going to try and make ED's seem poetic and hauntingly beautiful like most of Tumblr does. I worried that it was going to glorify the illness in some way, or make it appear as though the main character just wanted attention. After all, I think we can all agree that topics regarding mental or physical health shouldn't be held with such irresponsibility *side-eyes 13 Reasons Why* Nothing is beautiful about hating yourself with such intensity that you put your health and well-being in jeopardy. Nothing is glorifying about being bent over a toilet and throwing up the contents of your stomach. Thankfully the author did the illness some justice and never set out to make something seem poetic or "quotable". It just was what it was.
Documenting the mind of someone with an eating disorder is never going to be simple. Speaking from experience, when your mind is in such a place, no thoughts truly make sense. It's just a muddle of air, sadness, hatred, and obsession. So if you pick up Massive, you have to be prepared to dislike most of the characters. Notably Maria (the mother) and Carmen, yeah, the two characters that the story revolves around. But to go alongside that dislike, you understand them in some twisted way. Carmen isn't written as a character you feel deeply for, nor is she one written for you to hate. She's simply a realistic portrayal of a teenage girl going through a lot of crap. Teenagers are cruel and when put together with her single role-model, you can understand why she is the way she is. But you have to be willing to explore all layers of her. You can't read this book and not put your own thoughts and understanding into it, it won't work like that. Massive deserves your time and heart.
When it comes to the important matter of "Does this book do the ED awareness community justice by opening up the eyes of a reader who hasn't had any dealings with the disorders? Will it help them understand, or does it just make us all look a little crazy and obsessive?" It's a hard one to answer. On one hand, it's refreshing to read a book on the subject that isn't full of magical cures or, let's face it, a man changing the mind of a woman who doesn't see herself properly. This story is gritty and makes you wince with discomfort or anger numerous times, which is what you want when reading about something this serious. But I'll admit that it is problematic in the sense of the mother. She is what some would class as "the worst case scenario" for a sufferer and I don't entirely see why they made her so horrid toward Carmen regarding the regret she felt for having the girl. I could see that the lack of control in her life when she gave birth was substituted with the control she had over food, but maybe it could've been written better. I don't know.
One big thing I will put out there, if you have or are on a path to recovery with an ED, maybe don't pick this up until you feel strong enough. It isn't triggering per say, but I became overly cautious of what I was eating after reading a few chapters. I felt guilt for eating more than the characters in the book (idiotic, I know. But that's just how my mind works sometimes.), and it put me somewhat back into that mental space. Read with caution. Be prepared to put the book down.
One thing with Massive that I both like and dislike, is that it has so many layers. You find yourself coming to a realisation days after finishing the last page. It's all connected but you have to choose to see the irony or rather, connections, of some aspects of the story - domino affect and all that. I want to study it with a sharpie and post-its. Maybe I will one day. Speaking of studying, I read online that this has been pushed toward the high school demographic before and to that I think, what the hell? I've only ever been one teenage girl, so I can only speak for my past self, but.. this book would've given me tips and tricks. I would not of finished Massive feeling grateful for my lumps or bumps nor would it of helped me get a better understanding of bullies. You have to be in the right head space before you pick this up, I will say it over and over. It isn't something to be taken lightly. I would never suggest that my daughter read this, despite it's YA tag. This is for people who need someone to understand them or want to understand someone with a similar illness, or for those of us who appreciate reading about the various forms of ED's and the people they consume - whether that be in fiction or reality. This isn't for young girls who can easily be influenced by the words they consume.
All in all, I appreciate this book for what it is and that may be hugely down to the gratitude I felt when I got near the midway point and realised that it wasn't trying to mask itself as beautiful. If you're up for this journey of think that you could better yourself/your understanding by delving into some aspects of an ED, then pick this one up. Tweet me about it. This is a novel that ought to be spoken about with one another.
Do you have any book suggestions hcovering similar topics? Let me know!
Like most girls her age, teen Carmen's mentality is build around what she looks like and the craving for Big Mac's. Looks define people, at least that's what her mother leads her to believe. Thin is beautiful and anything else isn't. Simple. So when Carmen's mother packs both their bags and takes the young girl away from the only father figure she's known, her single friend, and in retrospect, the only people in her life who normalises food, the young girl's life takes a spiralling path downward. Returning to her mother's hometown of Birmingham, Carmen's daily life becomes revolved around restriction, bullying, and listening to her frail mother tell her how much happier they'd both be if they lost a few more pounds. That is when she's not telling her daughter that life would've been better without her.
I'd never heard of this book which is surprising given the topic and my online circles. I just happened to stumble upon Massive in my local charity shop. Hows that for fate? Surprisingly, this was my first time reading a fictionalised novel covering the topic of an ED, written from the POV of the sufferer. Straight off the bat, I liked this book. Grim topic and all. I found it comforting in a sense, but more on that later. My biggest worry going into this book, and well, my biggest assumption was that the author, Julia Bell, was going to try and make ED's seem poetic and hauntingly beautiful like most of Tumblr does. I worried that it was going to glorify the illness in some way, or make it appear as though the main character just wanted attention. After all, I think we can all agree that topics regarding mental or physical health shouldn't be held with such irresponsibility *side-eyes 13 Reasons Why* Nothing is beautiful about hating yourself with such intensity that you put your health and well-being in jeopardy. Nothing is glorifying about being bent over a toilet and throwing up the contents of your stomach. Thankfully the author did the illness some justice and never set out to make something seem poetic or "quotable". It just was what it was.
Documenting the mind of someone with an eating disorder is never going to be simple. Speaking from experience, when your mind is in such a place, no thoughts truly make sense. It's just a muddle of air, sadness, hatred, and obsession. So if you pick up Massive, you have to be prepared to dislike most of the characters. Notably Maria (the mother) and Carmen, yeah, the two characters that the story revolves around. But to go alongside that dislike, you understand them in some twisted way. Carmen isn't written as a character you feel deeply for, nor is she one written for you to hate. She's simply a realistic portrayal of a teenage girl going through a lot of crap. Teenagers are cruel and when put together with her single role-model, you can understand why she is the way she is. But you have to be willing to explore all layers of her. You can't read this book and not put your own thoughts and understanding into it, it won't work like that. Massive deserves your time and heart.
When it comes to the important matter of "Does this book do the ED awareness community justice by opening up the eyes of a reader who hasn't had any dealings with the disorders? Will it help them understand, or does it just make us all look a little crazy and obsessive?" It's a hard one to answer. On one hand, it's refreshing to read a book on the subject that isn't full of magical cures or, let's face it, a man changing the mind of a woman who doesn't see herself properly. This story is gritty and makes you wince with discomfort or anger numerous times, which is what you want when reading about something this serious. But I'll admit that it is problematic in the sense of the mother. She is what some would class as "the worst case scenario" for a sufferer and I don't entirely see why they made her so horrid toward Carmen regarding the regret she felt for having the girl. I could see that the lack of control in her life when she gave birth was substituted with the control she had over food, but maybe it could've been written better. I don't know.
One big thing I will put out there, if you have or are on a path to recovery with an ED, maybe don't pick this up until you feel strong enough. It isn't triggering per say, but I became overly cautious of what I was eating after reading a few chapters. I felt guilt for eating more than the characters in the book (idiotic, I know. But that's just how my mind works sometimes.), and it put me somewhat back into that mental space. Read with caution. Be prepared to put the book down.
One thing with Massive that I both like and dislike, is that it has so many layers. You find yourself coming to a realisation days after finishing the last page. It's all connected but you have to choose to see the irony or rather, connections, of some aspects of the story - domino affect and all that. I want to study it with a sharpie and post-its. Maybe I will one day. Speaking of studying, I read online that this has been pushed toward the high school demographic before and to that I think, what the hell? I've only ever been one teenage girl, so I can only speak for my past self, but.. this book would've given me tips and tricks. I would not of finished Massive feeling grateful for my lumps or bumps nor would it of helped me get a better understanding of bullies. You have to be in the right head space before you pick this up, I will say it over and over. It isn't something to be taken lightly. I would never suggest that my daughter read this, despite it's YA tag. This is for people who need someone to understand them or want to understand someone with a similar illness, or for those of us who appreciate reading about the various forms of ED's and the people they consume - whether that be in fiction or reality. This isn't for young girls who can easily be influenced by the words they consume.
All in all, I appreciate this book for what it is and that may be hugely down to the gratitude I felt when I got near the midway point and realised that it wasn't trying to mask itself as beautiful. If you're up for this journey of think that you could better yourself/your understanding by delving into some aspects of an ED, then pick this one up. Tweet me about it. This is a novel that ought to be spoken about with one another.
Do you have any book suggestions hcovering similar topics? Let me know!
Tips For Flying Alone With Anxiety
5/21/2017
Plan Ahead
Don't be afraid to be that person with a billion printed out documents and a strict schedule. If it helps you have peace of mind, do it. Ask Google the stupid questions that you are too worried to ask anyone in person. (Like How do I know if the plane's bathroom is occupied?) If you have questions that you're going to have to ask the person at the check-in desk, see if you can ask ahead of time via email. Trust me, half of the worry that's clouding your mind is caused by the things you don't know. So ask and find out.
Choose An Aisle Seat
Most airlines allow you to choose your seat 24 hours prior to flying, so take advantage of that if you're in it for the long haul. The first time I flew long distance, I assumed a window seat would be the best option as I would feel hidden away and wouldn't need to disturb anyone. That resulted in an 6 hour need to pee. Not fun. Go with the aisle, not only is it easier to go to the bathroom, but you can keep an eye on whether anyone is in there so you aren't stuck trying to find your balance right outside the bathroom door. On top of that, you'll be able to see when the stewardesses are going to start offering drinks so you can plan ahead AND you won't need to shout what drink you want over the two or three people that'll be sitting between you and her/him.
Security
Try and organise your carry on bag as much as possible. When going through security, you'll of course have to pull out any laptops/tablets/toiletries (check Google for anything you aren't sure of), put whatever you'll have to take out in a separate compartment of your bag so they're easy to get to and won't give you that panicked feeling when you're laptop is wedged between your books and people are waiting behind you. I've been there, trust me, it isn't the best. A backpack is your best option as it's large and usually comes with a variety of pockets. If you're super stressed, you can go as far as to pull off your jacket/cardigan/hoodie and fold it up into your backpack prior to queuing up so you won't have to deal with that on top of the other stuff, jewellery is another one. Take a little coin purse and keep any pieces in there, tucked somewhere safe in your bag, until you're all the way through. It's what I do, and to be honest, it makes it easier on both ends. I hate the part after being through security when you have to rush to try and put everything back into your bag and get your shoes on. The less you have to pull off only to put back on, the better.
A Bag Within A Bag
If you need to put your carry on bag in the overhead compartment but are worried about having to keep going to it for your items of entertainment, I recommend you pack a bag within your bag. Whether a cross body, clutch or any ol' travel bag, put all the things you think you'll need on the plane in it. Then when you're waiting to board, get it out and carry it on as it is. When getting to your seat, put it down and go ahead and stow away your carry on. The easiest option for this is a cross body, as you can then put it on when waiting to get off the plane ridding yourself of the annoyance of carrying two bags. Plus a helpful packing tip for getting an extra bag onto your packing list!
Aisle Companion
Now you've made it to your seat, and there is one person next to you also travelling alone. You just want to sit and be in your own brain, I get it. But sometimes a dreadful thing happens.. they want to talk. On long haul flights, this is rare. But short haul, it's 50/50. It's nice to make chit-chat, of course, but when shy, it can just be plain awkward. So what I like to do is, whether it's music on my phone or the movie on screen, once it seems like an acceptable time to do it, I put one earphone in (the one that isn't between you and your aisle companion), and leave the other out. This way it doesn't feel like you're being rude to them. They won't think you're purposely tuning them out as it still offers them the option to talk to you, but it's also inviting them to get on with whatever they wanted to do during the flight. Most of the time, people are just trying to be friendly and then end up sitting there wondering if they are expected to continue with the talking throughout the flight.
Ribbon That Case Up
So you've survived the flight, go you! And it's the heart-wrenching moment to find out whether your case made it all the way with you. "Ooh, that's my case coming towards me! Wait, no, that other woman just took it. Oh, no, I see it now. Ha. That'd of been embarrassing. Here it comes. Wait, is that my handle? No, is it? I don't know. Crap, crap. Okay, that family took it. Good. There it is! Coming out now. Is it? Why'd I choose black!?" I've been there. (Twice, but shush.) Whether you buy a flamboyant case, a luggage strap, or just tie ribbons on every surface that you can, make sure you'll be able to tell yours apart in a line up.
Smile, Be Brave
No matter what happens, just smile. I know it can incredibly hard when your eyes are welling up with tears and you just want to run back to the familiarity of home, but you booked this flight for a reason so keep your mind on it. Ask a worker if you're lost or don't know what to do about something, believe me, when their shift comes to an end, it is incredibly unlikely that they'll remember you asking whether you ought to go left or right. Don't psych yourself out too badly, and be gentle with yourself. You can't plan the unexpected and airports can be daunting, no matter how many signs they put up. You aren't ever stupid for needing a little help.
Bonus Mini Tips
If you don't do good with loud noises or the hustle and bustle of people, try an overnight flight. The atmosphere is much calmer than your average day flight and you tend to get left alone more.
Be An Early Bird
Get to that airport as early as you're able to, the last thing that's needed in this situation is the added stress of thinking that you're going to miss the flight. You'll only be sitting in a seat waiting to find out the number of your gate, so give yourself that extra 90 minutes. Or heck, 2 hours. You'll be surprised at how fast the time goes when in the buzz of a place like an airport. Grab a drink, a magazine or your book, sit patiently and get that calm in before the.. storm? Well, that doesn't sound pleasant. You know what I mean. Plus this gives you ample amount of opportunities to use the bathroom before boarding.
Meal Requests
On your airlines website, they will most likely offer you he choice of requesting a "special" meal. Whether veggie, vegan or gluten free, you needn't worry your head too much wondering if there'll be something for you if you take advantage of this.
Snacks
Buuuuutt, just in case you hate the food, take some snacks in your carry on. To save a few pennies you can pre-buy some packaged snacks preventing the dreary duty-free cost, so long as you either eat them or throw it away before arriving to your destination. I have to finish this bag of chocolate? Oh well, guess it's outta my hands. *wink, wink* But really, it's good to have something at hand for these situations. Especially if your flight is overnight and you won't want to disturb anyone. Also take an empty water bottle to fill up once you're through security, or buy the biggest one you can find. Your skin and lips will thank you for it.
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I know these tips may be obvious, but they're what help me when taking a flight. I'm a worrier and most of time, I get my mind freaked out when it doesn't necessarily need to be resulting in non-fun travel. The first time when doing anything is scary, but you can do it. Think of all the others who have and believe in yourself. Heck, if you booked the ticket, you are strong enough to follow through on it.
- Anne x
Bath Products Used: Lavender Oil. 5 drops.
Songs Listened To: Gabrielle Aplin - English Rain (Full Album)
Minutes Wasted: 30ish.
In less than two months I'm going to turn 21. 2 and 1. 21. Twenty-one. I'm not even worthy of a Taylor Swift song yet. I ought to be freaking out about ageing or something, I know, but instead I've been overcome with panic over how slowly I'm ageing. I'm tired of being in me, in this body, living with this mind. I want to call it quits. Part ways with a handshake. Life is dragging, but instead of dragging forward, like it ought to be, I feel as though it's dragging me down into this tub of water. Blegh.
Okay, that was a heavy first paragraph. I apologise. This possible new segment is meant to be a post cluttered with my bath musings and I'm sometimes overly bleak. Blame my mind, not me. Now there's a line that I need tattooed on me somewhere. To be perfectly honest, I've been foggy lately. My mind, that is. Not me. My mind. Wait, do they have to go together? Because I don't really want that. I sometimes feel like my brain is made up of twins - one is hopeful, dry but giggly, and the other.. well, she just stares blankly into space not really taking anything in. Do I have two people in my mind? Oh lord. Now I have that mental image. Literally. Mental. I hope not. Or do I? See, this is my brain. Half of my thoughts make no sense when I'm like this, and I hate it.
Foggy? You may ask. Yes, I respond, foggy. Like everything is just covered by a thick layer of fog, or dust, and I have to squint just to see the familiar things around me. Nothing really makes sense. Things feel, and look, out of place. My room doesn't look like my room, and I get confused about the feelings that arise in me when I'm around loved ones. I begin to question whether what I feel is what I actually ought to feel, or if I'm making it all up as I go along. It's a mess. My mind is a mess. Again, my mind, not me.
All of this makes no sense to me when I'm having a good day, which could be tomorrow. It could be in a week. But, in this moment, this is how I feel. Maybe that's why I'm "inspired" to start this segment. It's probably going to seem like a mess of a ramble to anyone else, but I don't know, I feel like I owe it to myself to document these things and hopefully, it'll help me in the long run to see how illogical this is. I know it's all illogical. When I'm questioning whether my fiance finds me pretty enough to not stray, or whether my mum wants to spend an evening with me.. I know it's stupid. But it's like my mind can't control itself. Nothing makes sense. Why would they want to love me? I can barely stand my own company. Lie. I can't stand my own company. I keep myself up at night by blasting music into my ears, or reading until words no longer appear like words to me, all to drown out my inner thoughts because they dislike me too. It's a game of pin the thought on Anne's heart and I keep losing.
It's exhausting to live with my mind. I know so many have it worse, and I can't begin to imagine how others manage to live like this daily. My heart goes out to them. At least, it will tomorrow. I hope. Right now, it seems to of got lost in the midst of the fog.
- Anne x
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