It’s no secret that music can offer us a source of escape during our darkest moments. For me, one of the go-to mood-lifters has always been The Stone Roses - Waterfall, as a welcome reminder to ‘carry on through it all’ whatever chaos life swings my way - a great deal in recent years.
Read MoreSo before you read on, I only talk from my own life experiences and I am by no means enlightened. I’m a 29yr old recovering alcoholic (hello my names Luke and I’m an alcoholic) ex cocaine wrongdoer and generally a bit fucking unwell.
Read More“I am not a victim. I am a survivor.”
This is what I kept telling myself when shaking violently whilst crying uncontrollably.
This is what I still tell myself when that buried memory comes to the forefront.
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As May is mental health month I thought I’d share something that I’ve been reflecting on recently for anyone who’s struggling, in whatever capacity. This may be a really obvious thing to say but I’ve realised lately that mental health is repairable, just like physical health.
Read MoreAnd what about your mum?
Oh, my mum? She died when I was five. God that’s young.
Yeah, I guess it is, but you know it’s made me strong and you can’t really miss what you never had.
Read MoreI made my therapist cry. He's not the first either!! 🤣
Well, that was embellished for dramatic effect. His face went red and he welled up....it still counts.
Read MoreTonight, I feel like I’m losing it.
And everything started off so well earlier.
Poor B has a nasty mouth infection and isn’t sleeping. I slept downstairs with him last night and felt surprisingly ok this morning, despite only getting two to three-hour intervals of sleep.
Read More2019 was hands down the year in which I was called a psycho the most.
Not in a nice way either.
As ridiculous as it sounds the truth is that last March, in London, I saw an 8 minute live solo sketch called Drank- and it turned me gay.
Read MoreBetween passes, you poke your fingers into the crochet holes in the blanket. First the pink section, then the blue. Throwing the ball becomes secondary to your attention – you seem to do it to please me and then return to the blanket.
Read More14 Years ago.....
Year 2000 I was diagnosed Bipolar and admitted to The Denis Scott Unit (Psychiatric Unit).
Year 2014 I have been asked if I would like to be discharged on June 14th and returned to the care of my doctor
Read MoreTRIGGER WARNING: this story contains miscarriage.
I am 1 in 4. The story I wish I didn’t have to share. The club that nobody wants to be in, nor asks to join.
2 under 2 call me crazy but that’s what I wanted. I wanted the chaos, the sleepless nights, the bond of siblings very close in age. And in my mind I had that picture.
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It's a Tuesday night in early October and I'm sat at the kitchen table in the share house I live in drinking a hot toddy. My housemate tells me I'd be mad to go on a first Tinder date sober. I look in the fridge for an estranged beer, all we have is a miniature bottle of whiskey. It doesn't quite fit the occasion but the warm alcohol settles my nerves. She texts me.
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My sister Cyndie was pregnant with her second child conceived using IVF. Unlike her, her partner did not want another child. Her decision almost tore their relationship apart. This is her story. It’s a story about the urge to become a mother, especially when you aren’t able to naturally.
Read MoreI approached motherhood with a wholly misplaced confidence. I was a teacher, specialising in early years. Children were my thing, they responded well to me; I had taught, helped and cared for hundreds in my career. So while I knew my transition to being a mother wouldn’t be seamless I had no concrete concerns aside from the common-knowledge exhaustion and some new restrictions on my life.
Read MoreSometimes a new colleague or friend will ask for my Coming Out story. These days, the question causes a quick flicker of surprise, as I forget that I am supposed to have one. How privileged I am, and how far we must have come, for me to be able to forget, even temporarily, and just… be me.
Read MoreThe scene: I am sitting cross legged on a round cushion, in a silent, darkened room. I sense the flicker of candlelight through my closed eyelids, and the heady scent of sandalwood smoke creeps into my nostrils. I can hear the patter of rain on the windows outside, but I feel warm and still, wrapped in a black shawl.
Read MoreWhen I watched the news and saw that schools and nurseries were closing, I walked away from my children and crumbled. Besides from a deadly virus doing the rounds, being locked-in with my two darling children for the foreseeable was personally my biggest fear.
Read MoreIn the summer I want nothing more than to lie on the beach in St Leonards.
A few years ago I started messing about with pebbles, making odd characters that I’d photograph on my Turkish towel before shaking them out and returning them to the wild. I made a lot of them, infact it became quite an obsession.
Read More“Please don’t cut her down”
Jan lent against the rotting beam of her porch, squinting into the afternoon sky. It was late October and the sun shone on her skin, illuminating the deep lines of life around her mouth that framed the gray of her eyes.
“It has a life you know, it is older than me and you a thousand times over, the things she has seen Lily”
Read MoreThe problem with obsessively trying to prove one’s not mad, is that it makes one look very mad. Well, that’s the case when you’re a patient on a psychiatric ward anyway. It’s like prison, where everyone is innocent. The nurse asked us if we would like anything from the corner shop she was popping to. I requested a notebook and pen. And cigarettes.
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