Eureka! ūüí°

It’s been a while. I do apologise. Life has been happening as of late. And in a good way. Hallelujah!
In the words of the band Paramore:

Things are looking up
Oh, finally
I thought I’d never see the day

They really are looking up and for the first time in a long time, I feel generally content with my life and everything that I have. It has taken me a while to reach this point of realisation but I am so glad I finally have.

So many aspects of my life are going right. Things have fallen into place on the job front and with regards to my relationship with F, I feel we are both finally on the same page of understanding and happier and stronger than we’ve ever been. I don’t want to brag or rub it in everyone’s face, because that’s not the point of this blog. The reason I want to talk about the highs and happiness that I am experiencing at the moment is because I want to show that no matter how low you get or how much of a dark, lonely place you find yourself in, there is always light at the end of the tunnel, even if you can’t see it at that point of time.

Only a few weeks ago, was I at my lowest, not wanting to continue with life anymore. Believing that me and F were doomed for. That I would never get a job. That I would be stuck at home forever. That I would have to sit at home and look at the same four walls all day, day in, day out. I felt so distant from my friends, my family and F. I was so alone. So desperate. I wasn’t functioning. I shut myself off from the world. I stopped blogging. Stopped replying to those around me. I was at the point of just curling up into a ball and just disappearing. I couldn’t see any other way out. I didn’t want to continue living that way of life. The fear. The anxiety. The worry. The unknown. The uncertainty. The lows. The sadness. The questioning. The darkness. The thoughts. The helplessness. The desperation.

A few weeks later and I am in the best place that I have been in a long while. I got there. I got there mostly on my own but I had tremendous help from therapy with IAPT and also my wonderful other half, F. I have been so lucky to have had both of these supports over the last few months. They’ve not always known the full truth of how I have felt, or the actions I have taken, and they’ve not always fully understood the situation but without them, especially the love and care of F, I don’t know where I would have ended up.

Therapy taught me that my worries aren’t worth it. They’re mostly hypothetical. I can’t control them. There’s nothing that I can do that will change the outcome. Therefore there’s no point worrying and getting anxious about it. I’ve learnt to deal with my worries for half an hour each night when I have time to myself and decided how I want to deal with them and if there’s anything I can do to control them. If there’s nothing I can do then I just put it in the box and forget about it. I’ve learnt that when I am having a worry to concentrate on the details on an inanimate object next to me. What colour it is. The texture. All the fine details. That way I take my mind of the worry and focus on something else that has no impact on me and my worries.

F. Me and F. What a whirlwind the past few months have been for us. We almost broke up. I became so dependent on him. So obsessed with him. So needy for him that it was destroying us. I felt so much pressure from those around me and that of society with regards to mine and F’s relationship that I let it get in the way of me and F just simply enjoying each other’s company and being happy and relishing in that. We lost it. We lost us. We lost our jokes. Our easiness. Our happiness. I let my depression and anxiety intervene. I let what society expected get in the way.

These days, there’s so many pressures when it comes to a relationship. There are so many expectations. It seems these days everyone is in such a rush. They have to move in together. Get the ring on their finger. Get married. Have kids. There’s such a rush at such a young age. But when we rush into it all, what have we then got to look forward to?
Why can’t we simply enjoy just being two separate individuals, who enjoy each other’s company, love each other and want to spend time with each other without having to feel the need to confirm your love for one another with gestures such as moving in. Why isn’t spending time together enough anymore? Why isn’t that enough of a gesture? Why does there have to be so much more? We’re only young and I am so excited for the future with me and F. But for now, I am so content and comfortable with seeing him as and when I do, and creating fun memories and moments with him. I look forward to the milestones with him, but right now, this milestone of simply being in a relationship and happy is more than enough for me. For us. We’re happy. We’re on the same page (after a very awkward and public chat. Almost breaking up at a beer festival then sitting in the woods discussing every little thought and worry we had. But I am so glad we had that chat. That awkward, hurtful, upsetting moment. It finally got everything out in the open. We finally both understood each other. We both had a weight lifted off our shoulders. It allowed us to be us again. Us, who were so in love, so happy. So weird and always laughing. Going with the flow of life and enjoying it). We’re a happy couple who are living in the present and I wouldn’t wish for anything more.

I must confess. I finally started a full-time job two weeks ago. This has helped immensely with my recovery. It has offered me a distraction from my worries and my thoughts. It has given me something to focus on. Get up for each day. New challenges to face. New people to meet. A new way of everyday life.
I was so anxious. So sick at the thought of starting this job. I was worried about the interactions with new people. The routine. The getting up each day and getting out of bed. Having to plaster a smile on my face everyday and appear to be happy. But a few days in and I felt at ease. I loved the distraction. The opportunities that I was being given. The people I was working with. The excitement of each day.
I love it. And it has helped me feel human again. I feel I have a worth. I have a reason for being here.

All this put together has helped me more than words can express. I am so, so grateful. Life is a beautiful thing once you realise how precious it is. How many opportunities are surrounding you. The feeling of being loved by someone so greatly. Meaning so much to people. Having a role in everyday life. Having an impact on a business, a situation or a person. You can achieve it. You do have a purpose. You are so worthy and so deserving of a happy life. It just might take a bit longer than you first thought. But it will get better. Just please stick on in there and your endurance, determination, perseverance and patience will pay off. You are a strong person and you will get your time. Please, don’t give up.

Not Quite Made Girl


Dear F,

Well here I am writing you another letter. I suppose I find it easier to express myself to tell you just what is on my mind and the hypothetical worries that I have.

This weekend was my first weekend without in a while. I didn’t expect to find it as hard as I have. It didn’t help that this week I haven’t exactly been in a great place mentally. But spending the whole weekend without seeing you or touching you was hard. There were so many times that I found myself yearning for you and a ‘your’ hugs. Your comfort. Your security. I dreaded a whole weekend in with my parents. It was as I expected. Them bickering most of the weekend over menial stuff and many awkward silences. It was nothing compared to the easiness and comfort of our weekends together at yours with your family. I missed them.

All weekend I have had so many thoughts running through my head. I have been really struggling with them. And I have had no one to turn to for confirmation that everything was okay and will continue to be okay. So I thought I would get them all down in a letter. I chose to write it to you because you’re the one who I want to understand what it is that I feel and fear. What keeps me up. What makes me sad. What hurts me. What makes me behave the way I do at times.

I know it is annoying me always doubting and questioning everything all the time. I wish I didn’t keep doing that. Maybe if I talk more openly to you and try to explain just what is worrying me then perhaps I will stop questioning us all the time.

I don’t need to state it because it is so obvious, but I love you. I love you so much. I love you more than anything in life. I know at times I have a funny way of showing it but I really do love you and value you for who you are. I know I can talk to you. I can turn to you. You will listen. But I do worry if I even say one thing that you don’t like the sound of you will get all defensive and not try to understand. You will take what I say as criticism. But it isn’t. You will take it as me not being happy with you. Me picking at you. Me thinking that you don’t do enough. That you aren’t perfect. That isn’t what I mean at all by whatever I say. I tell you so often how happy you make me, how much you mean to me, how much I love all the little things you do. I simply am telling you how I feel at times and what worries me. It isn’t a reflection on you. It is me. It’s my anxiety and depression getting the better of me and I’m sorry you take that as me criticising you. That’s the last thing I want to do. I only ever want to show you how much you mean to me and how much I appreciate you and everything you do.¬†You really are an amazing person. Words don’t do any justice. You are a patient person and I do push you at times to your limit.¬†I apologise greatly for that. I don’t want to annoy you or push your patience but I just work myself up over little things and I just can’t hide that from you. You’re too good at reading me and I feel so at ease around you I just can’t hide my worries or upsets that I experience. I trust you with seeing that side of me and you handle it so well especially when I’m annoying you by commenting on my weight, how I feel inferior to those around me and how I find it so hard to believe that you do love me and think me beautiful despite my many, many flaws.

I’m just scared. So scared of losing you. I have never feared losing something so much in my life. I never expected to have such a connection and love with someone. I never thought I’d be so lucky to find it with someone like you in this lifetime. I really am lucky and I don’t want to lose this.

You’re the full package and men like you are rare to find. I find it so hard to believe you picked me. You want me. You love me. Not because I doubt you but because here I am, this hot mess who is so up and down. Why would you love that? There’s a sea of girls who I am sure are “normal”¬†and would jump at the chance to have you. That’s the only reason I get silly and question your love for me because I am so difficult at times. I’m a bit of a roller coaster ride in life. I worry because I am difficult and a lot to handle. I’m not drop dead gorgeous or a Victoria Secret Model. I have my lows and worries that do take over and make me question if you do still want me or just too scared to walk away. I know you reassure me continuously and I trust and believe your words. I don’t know what triggers me¬†getting so scared and anxious about you not wanting me when all you do when we’re together is show me love.Your reassuring forehead kisses, the familiarity and comfort of your hand in mine, the security and safety in your hugs and cuddles, the passion and care and the love of just being held in your arms as we sleep. I know you love me and show me often.
I never doubt your love for me because of anything you do, I simply doubt it because of how I am at times. Please know I never doubt these actions towards me or their genuinity.

We’ve known each other for practically a year and seeing each other almost as long. And it has been the happiest year of my life. For me is it the longest relationship I have had. I have become dependant on you at times, and consider you the biggest and most valuable part of my life. I haven’t felt that way in other relationships. I normally get doubts and realise I don’t want a future with them in the first couple of months. But with you, you have made me realise just what I want from life and that I want to keep you there by my side. I want to invest my all in our love.
Because I have had such bad relationships in the past, I have so many worries when it comes to ours. I’m worried what the future will bring. I don’t know what the protocol is when it comes to relationships because everyone is different. I’m worried I’ll F*ck it up, by pushing you away, pushing you to turn to someone else, to make you fall out of love with me because of who I am.

We all have this idea of love. More often than not we get this idea from films and those around us how relationships should be. I often compare our relationship to those closest to me, more than I should. I don’t know why I do this. Their relationships aren’t perfect and I wouldn’t exchange a single thing of ours for anything they’ve got. Our love to me, is picture perfect. I always say how lucky I am. This is my fairy tale romance; mine and yours. Not theirs. And I’m so happy and in love with it.
I may get jealous in a sense that they get little surprises from their other half, going on trips continuously or living together from quite early on, but you have taught me that love isn’t about any of those things. It isn’t about having the need to show it off to the world. It is simply being able to spend time with that one person, even doing nothing but watching a film together at home and enjoying each other’s company. It is sitting in silence but no awkwardness, just ease. It’s receiving a hug from you when I am having a bad day. These are things that I want and I am so lucky to experience them with you. I’d rather that than anything else those around me have. It’s taken a while for me to come to the realisation of what love is but I’m so glad you’ve taught me just what it is.
I know I get upset with you at times because you haven’t been able to read my mind and know what I’m thinking or want. I know you think you’re always being helpful and doing your best. You do, you really do. I just get stupidly sensitive over such petty things. I panic that if you don’t want to see me one night that you no longer love me or want to be with me. Not simply because you just want a night to yourself to relax and have your own time, which is human and completely understandable. I get so irrational about it, and I am sorry. I think you do so much with me and you do it because you want to and you deserve time to yourself and it doesn’t mean you love me any less.
It is also difficult for you to understand just how bad I get, but I think after Thursday you have seen how bad it gets for me and what state I end up in. Once you saw me you were so understanding and caring, but before that you found it hard to communicate with me because you didn’t understand the state I was in. You didn’t quite believe I was that bad. I think you thought that I was just being irrational and over reacting. But you’ve realised I can’t help it. It’s what this anxiety and depression are doing to me. It’s how it gets me. It’s not you that gets me like that. You’re the one that helps get me out of it. You’re the one that reassures me that everything is okay. You’re the one that tries to always understand and keep learning about what I am going through. And for that I am so grateful and think you’re doing a fantastic job at it. It is hard to understand what it is like to keep feeling the way I do and I know at times it seems so alien and ridiculous but you’ve never given up on me, you’ve never stopped wanting to figure it out and find a way to help me. More often than not, you know how to help me before I know what I need. You encouraged me to come to London despite me crying and screaming down the phone. You planned a day out for us. You thought it would help. I was adamant I wasn’t up to it. But you showed me tough love and it was the only way I’d get to see you before you went on holiday and it turned out to be a good day. You got me from a crying mess when I met you, to getting a smile out of me and a conversation by the end of the night. You gave me hope again. You gave me a reason to smile. My reason was you and the love you give.

I want to have the chat with you. I want to see if there is a future with us. What kind of future you imagine. I don’t know your expectations or even if you see one anymore with me but I do look forward to a future with you. I am scared to talk to you about this. I fear your answer. I fear you don’t want the future that I want. I want to live together down the line. I want to know that we’re safe for a future side by side. You once stated that you thought¬†I could be I don’t know if you still believe this. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I fear I’m too over whelming and too much for you to handle.¬†¬†Is my mental health becoming such a barrier? Such a problem for you to deal with? Are you worried about dealing with that for the rest of your life if we share a future together? I can’t promise that I will ever get rid of this, because I believe that even though I can fight it and I can get better, it will always be a part of me. I just believe that I will find ways at handling it better and controlling it. Learning when I am having these ups and downs and how to get out of them without impacting those around me. I will fight it because I want to have a future full of happiness and living each experience and adventure that life throws my way with a positive attitude¬†but right now, I am only just learning so it is a bit of an uphill battle at times. But I will get better and you don’t need to worry about me being as bad as I have been. I will be happy again. Especially knowing you’re by my side.

I think you know what I hope for and would like in the future. I’m sure you know. I just don’t know if you’re thinking the along the same lines. I want to have the chat. The chat about your hopes and dreams for the future. What plans you have.What you want. I want to know. I want to listen. I hope one day you will tell me.

We have so much and I’m so truly grateful. I’m so lucky to have you, the one person who believes in me, motivates and encourages me, supports me, helps me in their own way, gives me honesty, gives me security but most of all loves me despite my flaws. You have given me memories and experiences to last a life time this past year, so thank you. You’ve introduced me to new interests and shown me there’s so much to life than I first thought.

In the words of Virginia Woolf: “I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that – everybody knows it. I didn’t think two people could have been happier than we have been”.¬†

I love you completely, today and always,

Not Quite Made Girl


NB. I am too much of wuss to actually write this letter and give it to F but I needed to get it out of my system and write it down. And well what better place than my blog where I know he’ll never see it, despite it being for him.¬†
I know I come across so needy and clingy and sickeningly in love but that’s how he makes me feel, how he needs to see it because I don’t want to lose him over this. I don’t want my mental health to destroy that.¬†


404 Error

How many times have we all, over the years,seen the error message 404 error pop up when we tried to enter a URL for a site. The error? That now, apparently, the site no longer exists, was moved or deleted. Or we  typed in the URL wrong or the server responsible for the website is not running and the connection is broken.

At the moment I feel that my actions and behaviours are a result of a connection in my brain not running or simply being broken. I feel like I have regressed and facing a few errors. Maybe I am typing the URL in wrong or perhaps something has moved or been erased causing me to fall back into old ways.
I’ll stop with the analogy for now, especially as I don’t know a great deal about technology but it seemed to fit with what I was going with. So bare with.

I have fallen off the wagon a bit these past couple of weeks but no one has noticed because I’ve got well at hiding it. I’ve fallen into old habits and started new ones. I’ve become more reliant on my sleeping pills, taking my antidepressants less and turned back to my binging habits. Hello 404 error.

I didn’t intend to become disconnected from the right path of thinking. I didn’t mean to delete the part of my brain that encourages me to take my antidepressants, tells me that I should do something else instead of purging or even the part where I’m normally honest with F about what is going on. I keep trying to type in the URL to go back to being on the path to helping myself but it keeps coming up with error and the URL can’t be found. Instead I regress. I fall back into old habits. Type in the URL that I know still works even if it isn’t of any help or the complete opposite of the URL I’m actually looking for.

I thought my first face to face CBT would make me feel a bit more positive. Bit more switched on. See the light at the end of the tunnel. A knowledge that I can conquer this. But I feel it hasn’t quite done that. Instead I feel more distant, more detached and further from being me than I have been in a while. I feel so pressured. So stressed. But I don’t know what about. I have to keep a worry diary for the next two weeks and start to realise what is a hypothetical worry and what is a practical worry. And I think as soon as I heard that I felt that panic that I used to feel in school. I felt like I was a student at school again. And I hated school.

To control how I’m feeling I’ve been turning to binge eating which really won’t be helping me as I should be sticking to a healthy diet cause that always makes me feel better. But I can’t help it. It’ll start off with a cookie here or there and the next thing you know I’m at a supermarket buying a twenty quid shop of binge food. I don’t care when I’m eating it. I just keep chomping away as if there’s no tomorrow. Once the food has gone that’s when it hits me. I get an overwhelming guilt come over me. And the way to deal with this guilt? To purge.

I’ve also not been sleeping too great. I think I have slept well two nights in the past month and that’s when I’m with F. Even then I’m still up numerous times in the night but I feel at least a bit more refreshed when I wake up. ¬†Other times I have woken up more tired than when I went to sleep. Its exhausting. I have no energy to do anything. I did rely on sleeping tablets at first and they worked a treat. However a week later their effect had worn off so I stopped. Now I’ve started taking them again and although it takes me a while to drop off to sleep I soon do and I manage to get some z’s. I’m starting to run out of them now and I’m panicked that when I do I won’t get prescribed anymore and will go back to little sleep.

My antidepressants. I’m really not sure if they’re helping or hindering. I do my best to take them but when I stay at my boyfriend’s at the weekend I often forget to take them with me so fall out of habit of taking them. I just don’t like taking tablets. I hate feeling the reliance on two tablets to ease how I feel. I don’t want to be dependent on them.

I know I’ve fallen off the rails a bit. And I know I’ve become a bit disconnected from my goal. But I’m hoping it’s only temporary and I’ll soon stop receiving the 404 error message and the goal URL will be back up and running.

Not Quite Made Girl





It was my turn at last. I had reached the top of the waiting list to receive my first therapy session. The letter came in the post informing me of when my appointment was and that it would take place on the phone. The phone? How can a therapy session work on the phone? I didn’t care how the logistics worked, all I cared about was that it was finally my name being called and it was me who could finally talk to someone and maybe get a hand of this situation.

The 1st of March. A new month. A new chance. And what better way to start a new month than with my first therapy session. Even if it was on a telephone.

I chose an early appointment so it would force me to get up and try and do something with my day afterwards. I was apprehensive before my phone call. I didn’t think that I would be totally honest with how I felt or what I was going through because it is easier to hide it when you are on a phone. I did worry that I would cry and become so incoherent on the phone that it would be pointless.
The phone went off and I picked up. It was similar to that of my initial phone call with the service. We went through the Questionnaires and my scores on that. What I was feeling to make me give the answers that I did. What I hoped to gain from CBT. What my goals were. It was a quick 45 minute chat and Sarah was very understanding and acknowledged everything I said to show she was listening.
At the end of the call, we booked our next appointment, which would be a face to face for the 13th March.

Today, the 13th, unlucky for some was my first face to face CBT. I had to drive there. That was a panic in itself. I hate driving new routes on my own. I am continuously thinking of the worse and panicking that I will take the wrong turn, end up down a one way street going the wrong way, or just getting so lost that I just stop and breakdown into tears. But I made it. And I made it in plenty of time.Had a bit of a panic over parking but that soon sorted itself out.
I had no idea where to go once I entered the Health Centre. I felt that as soon as I walked in everyone was looking at me as I was hesitant on which reception to go to. I finally went over to one and they weren’t the most helpful of people. They simply pointed in a direction and told me to go there. I finally found it. It was pretty concealed. Wasn’t exactly staring you in the face obvious. I signed in and followed the directions the lady gave me to go find the correct room and I sat outside.
This is how awkward I am. I wasn’t sure whether to knock or not. I hovered, looked into the room, saw my therapist sat typing. Instead of knocking I got all panicked and just sat down outside. After a couple of minutes, I got the courage to knock. She opened the door, said she’d be a couple of minutes and to just sit outside. It felt an eternity.
I really didn’t want to be there. I didn’t feel comfortable. My anxiety was through the roof. I didn’t feel in the mood to talk. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to go back to bed.
But I stayed. My Therapist Sarah* opened the door and invited me into the room.
There were two chairs on either side of a small round table placed next to a window looking out onto the car park. In the corner was a table and a computer. There was a height measure on one side, and a GP’s bed on the other with an abacus and a couple of other toys on it.
This room wasn’t exactly what I imagined my therapy to take place in. But it did the job. There was somewhere to sit and it was nice to be by the window.
I didn’t realise just how uncomfortable I was talking to strangers, especially when it is about something so personal. I was a bit reluctant at first. I did try to expand on what I was feeling but I kept getting choked up. I didn’t think I would get that emotional trying to explain how I felt. I really couldn’t look at her. I know you’re meant to have eye contact with people when you speak to them but I couldn’t. I was fidgeting. I kept playing with my rings, swirling them round on my fingers, pulling them off and pushing them back on. Pulling my jumper sleeve down, fiddling with the end of the cuff. I wasn’t comfortable. I couldn’t wait for the session to end. I didn’t really talk. I said the odd thing but otherwise I didn’t really have anything to say. I was struggling to get my words out. To explain what was going on in my head. How the past couple of weeks had been since I last spoke to her. I did tell her a bit about my boyfriend buying his flat, and the fact that I had a job interview and had the next stage of it this week and how I was the only one not excited about it. I went into a bit of worries that came from those situations.


5 aspects
My attempt at explaining the 5 Aspects 

Sarah showed me a really interesting cycle called the 5 aspects¬†of how a¬†situation¬†and how we think during this situation affect our¬†moods, which in turn affect our¬†behaviours¬†which then have consequences on our physical sensations.¬†Well that’s how I came to understand it anyway. We went through a situation I was experiencing as an example. It made sense and I can see how it works. It gets you thinking about how you react to a situation.
We then looked at a booklet about controlling worry. I learnt about hypothetical and practical worries. And I was asked to keep a worry diary for the next two weeks and decipher if the worries I was having were hypothetical (where you can’t control the outcome) or a practical one (where you can affect the outcome and not have to rely on others).
As lovely as Sarah was I just felt like I was back in school and I hated that. The idea of writing down when I’m worried and what’s caused it filled me with anxiety. I felt like I was being set homework and felt so much pressure to get it right. I know it is silly but I really didn’t feel comfortable.

It was only a half an hour session but it felt like I was in there forever. It was good to put a face to the name as well and to know who I was talking to and who I was relying on for help and advice. But I didn’t feel better than when I got there. I felt more anxious. More worried. And thinking far too much. It is hard because a lot of the time I can’t pinpoint just what it is that I am worrying about. Sarah understood this and just said to try my best to write down when I do know what is worrying me.
I will give it a go. I am so grateful for the help. I am so lucky to get it as quick as I have. I will try and be positive with this. And I will try my best to be as open and as honest as I can with her. I will have to come out of my comfort zone. I will have to speak. I will have to make eye contact with her and stop fidgeting because I want to make the most of these sessions. I want to feel better and I want this help. I am determined to make it work.

Not Quite Made Girl



*Pseudo name


Can you believe it has been three weeks since I was officially diagnosed with depression and anxiety?! And this baby From Mad Girl to Made Girl is two and a half weeks old! Where has the time gone!

I can’t hide the fact that I was anxiously counting down to this appointment. Three weeks after being given my diagnosis and being sent away to try new tablets and to sort out therapy, it was time for a follow-up. Another chance to inspect at how I was getting on.

As I am sure you can tell from a few of my posts, I have been struggling despite being on Fluoxetine. I was told they wouldn’t begin to work until about a week after taking them, so I wasn’t expecting miracles. But after three weeks and religiously taking them at the same time every day, I really don’t feel any sort of improvement.
If anything, my anxiety and depression has been just as bad. Although now, I am finding myself crying more publicly because I just can’t hold it back anymore. Throughout these three weeks, I don’t think there has been a day where I haven’t just wanted to give up. There wasn’t a single day where I was anxious free or didn’t have a low point. I know that’s not the point of the tablets. I know they aren’t miracle workers. But I was hoping it would ease it. Make it easier to get on with everyday life things. But it hasn’t.

I struggle so much to get out of bed most days. I am not sleeping until gone 4 in the morning and even when I do drop off I am up throughout the night. The second I wake up my mind is already anxiously overthinking situations. I can’t even pinpoint what it is worrying about half the time. It just fills me with a sense of dread and fear. A fear I can’t shake off. I’ve broken down into tears most days in my bedroom because I just can’t cope feeling like this all the time. I’m not living. I’m literally a living, breathing being with no life in her at times.

Work has been great about my situation. There’s no pressure on me when I return and my manager has been so understanding. I’ve been offered to work any day I want, work days where they know they’ll be busy so there’s things that I can be doing and be kept busy. I can go back to just working one day until I settle back in. They’ve honestly been great and they believe that me going back to work will help me. Preoccupy me.

However, it isn’t as simple as that. It doesn’t matter if; I am sat on my own, In a room full of a people, with my favourite person, busily distracted by the hustle and bustle of everyday life, at a gig watching my favourite artist or simply watching TV, I will still feel the anxiety swirling around my head. I will still feel that sick lump in my throat. The churning of my stomach. The sweaty palms. The overwhelming emotion. The sadness. The emptiness. It will still be there, no matter what I am doing. Just being on my own it is easier to release and show.

I used to plaster a big smile across my face and get on with things but the past weeks have been more difficult than normal. I think it is becoming more and more difficult to hide from F because he knows me best. He knows when something isn’t quite right. And I don’t want to keep hiding it from him. He wants me to be honest and open with him about how I’m feeling. He’d rather I told him then not. By not telling him or speaking to him about it I was effectively pushing him away. But when I am with F, it is easier, to not exactly forget about my anxiety, because I still get the thoughts rush over me when I am with him, but I remember what it is to laugh and to smile and generally mean it. He makes me smile from ear to ear when a few seconds earlier all I wanted to do is cry. I’ve started showing the other side of me more to him. A couple of Sunday’s ago, we were getting ready to go to the cinema and we were up in his room and he looked at me, gave me a hug and asked if I was okay. I just cried. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I felt so damn low. I had had a great weekend with F. Only hours earlier were we both collapsed on the floor in a heap laughing after a tickle fight. It just comes on so sudden. The sadness is like a thick fog that comes down quick and settles and blinds your view to everything else around you – no matter how bright they shine.

So after these experiences I have become even more worried about going back to work. Even more worried about this follow-up appointment. I didn’t want to have to sit there and tell this doctor that I wasn’t feeling any better. But I knew I had to. I also felt I really had to tell her it was affecting my sleep to the point where a couple of nights I have literally had less than an hour of full sleep (Hello bags under my eyes. They’re not even designer ūüėČ). It can’t be helping how I am feeling anyway.

So I bit the bullet and told her. And to my surprise she was so understanding. The look of care and concern on her face was genuine. She wanted to help. She asked if I had spoken to IAPT yet and was shocked that I was told I had to wait 6 – 8 weeks and she gave me another number to ring and tell them that I really needed the therapy immediately.
My dosage of Fluoxetine has been upped. My sick leave has been extended and I have also been prescribed Zolpidem (a sleeping tablet) for the next 8 days to help me get back a pattern of sleep.

I am one of these people who read the whole instruction leaflet that comes with each medicine, and after reading the one for the Zolpidem I am a bit worried about taking it especially as it says if it is taken with Fluoxetine then hallucinations are possible. Like that’s all I need haha! The side effects are scary. It even suggests that people previously have sleep driven and sleep walked! And those on antidepressants are more at risk of doing this. I suppose most medicines come with side effects but I have never been so hesitant to take a tablet in my life. I will try it for a few days. I won’t be driving as even though it says you should be okay after 8 hours of sleep, I don’t want to risk it. I’ll give you an update if I have any hallucinations or weird happenings in the next few days. Lucky me hey!

Hope you all had a smashing Valentine’s Day. I shall post a blog tomorrow about my Valentine’s Day ūüôā

Not Quite Made Girl


Don’t you just love the bunny filter on Snapchat ūüôā


One Prozac a day…

Husband’s a CPA.

For those of you who are Bowling for Soup fans you would have noticed that the title of this blog comes from the song¬†1985.¬†Thought I’d try lightening it up a bit before I get real heavy and deep!

I wasn’t going to post a blog today but I’m struggling. Really struggling. And I am on my own and got no one I can immediately turn to right now, so hi! You’re the lucky one, you get me turning to you. You get to hear me go on and on, moaning about things, how lucky are you?! (I give you permission to walk away now to save you haha).

Fluoxetine. You’re meant to be helping me. You’re meant to be my one tablet a day that sends off those happy hormones known as serotonin into my brain. You’re meant to make me more balanced. More stable. More able to handle life. It seems you’re doing the opposite. You’re not helping. It feels you’re hindering me more than helping. There’s points that I do find myself thanking you and thanking the fact that for just a few times here and there you have made the anxiety less. But you have made my depression even more apparent. You’ve made me realise underneath the anxiety, I am empty. I am sad. And these past two days have been hard. Harder than I could have imagined. I scared myself today. The thoughts running through my head. The things I was saying to myself. They became more powerful than normal. I had to get out the house. I couldn’t take another minute of sitting on the bathroom floor in tears. I wish I knew why these tears keep burning my cheeks. I wish I knew why you weren’t working. Why the hormone serotonin wasn’t overpowering the negativity in my brain.

I have been very much on my own these past few days. I feel everyone is fed up of my emotions now. No one wants to hear it anymore. The girls at work were awkward with me. Distant even. They seemed so uneasy around me. Was I really that obviously low? Was I that hard to be around? I tried. I tried my best to make conversation, but even I could hear the quiver in my voice as I spoke. I was stuttering my words. Fidgeting. Uneasy. They must have picked up on this. Must not have known how to ‘deal’ with me.

I keep crying in front of my mum. Begging for the anxiety and nausea to go away. For this uncertainty and emptiness to be cured. But no matter how much I cry in front of her the response is always cold. Telling me the tablets aren’t working. Awkwardly sat there next to me trying to watch television. She doesn’t understand. I’m sat there next to her. Crying. Breaking. Internally screaming for a hug and nothing. She can’t give her own daughter a hug.

I hate being this way. This isn’t me. This isn’t who I am, yet it is consuming me. It’s taking me over more and more. Why aren’t you working Prozac? Why? I’ve read the reviews people have given you on medical sites and they rave about you. You worked wonders on them. Most of them felt a bit better after a week or so. I know everyone is different and I have only been on them for about a month. I know I might not have the right dosage. I am just counting down to my follow-up appointment on Wednesday. But the days are hard. They’re like an endless abyss. They all roll into one. Each one feels like a thousand years. The seconds I’m on my own pass slowly. The thoughts in my head are the only things in fast motion. They race and race. It’s like they can’t stop.

I’m craving a hug. A hug in the arms of someone I feel safe with. Someone who just opening their arms to me, makes me feel as though I am strong enough to get through this. Someone who believes in me. Loves me. Cares for me. Right now that’s all I want. That’s my only cure.

Not Quite Made Girl


Will you be my..?

I finally have¬†big and exciting¬†news. It has actually been a few weeks since I first came across this news, but Mad Girl to Made Girl didn’t exist yet, and it was just before my world turned upside down with my breakdown and diagnosis of my depression and anxiety.

So, you’re finally going to have a happy blog by moi! Yes, smiles all round, cheers even, a little celebration if you may, for I, Not Quite Made Girl, have had my hand asked for in Marriag – yes, I have been asked to be my very best Bestie’s¬†MAID OF HONOUR!

Yes, me! I know I didn’t think I could be trusted with such responsibility either but hey, she must have been having a funny moment when she chose me to be her Maid of Honour! (I’m just going to keep highlighting¬†Maid of Honour¬†in bold because I just love the title and that it¬†is attributed to me. That I’m a¬†Maid of Honour. Am I annoying you yet with my gloating? Good, I hope not! I hope y’all are¬†pleased for me. ;))

It was so romantic how she did it, my heart just exploded into a million and one pieces and I couldn’t stop the word ‘yes‘ coming out of my mouth.

My bestie, or BeeBee as she is known, had been bugging me for a few weeks about organising a specific weekend in January for us to meet up. I couldn’t understand the necessity for such a specific date. I now know why haha. I just thought she was so eager for a double date with her fianc√© and her with me and F, especially as she had never met F before.

We had dinner up in London at a place called Cabana and before we settled up and made our way to the Comedy Club for a night of laughs, all of a sudden a parcel appeared on the table from no where. (How BeeBee hid it from her place to the restaurant I shall never know, it wasn’t exactly the most discrete package!)
After I spotted the parcel, BeeBee explained that this was the reason she was so specific about the date that I could go up and see her. I still had no idea about what she was on about, so I proceeded to open the parcel with such circumspection and caution. All eyes at this point were eagerly on me. God how I hate being the centre of attention.

The parcel was neatly tied in a bow, which was so damn fiddely to undo. It took me what seemed forever to untie, but I finally was in! It was filled with shredded tissue paper of all colours and as I tipped it up out came this silver arrow.
I still had no idea. How ignorant am I! I read the heart attached to the arrow. Looked up, warned everyone I was going to cry and literally a second later I was balling my eyes out like a baby. How embarrassing! I hadn’t even given her my answer so for all she knew I was declining the offer.
As soon as my eyes read the word¬†Maid of Honour¬†my heart just melted. I knew me and BeeBee were close. I knew I could trust her with anything and I did and do consider her the closest thing to a Best Friend that I’ve got. I just never imagined that I meant that much to her. She had a whole range of people, some of which she has known for years before me or maybe was closer to them than I thought she was with me, but no. She chose me. She trusts me most out of everyone she knows. She wants me there by her side on the biggest day of her life. The day she marries the love of her life and she wants me there to support her right up to the moment she walks down the aisle and they both become one.

What an honour!

After blubbing for goodness knows how long, BeeBee kept asking if it was a yes! How could it not be? How could anyone turn down such a privilege from your best friend? I hugged her across the table and gave a resounding yes. I was now officially a Maid of Honour. 

For the record, I am one of these people who love to be super organised. I love planning. I love organising. I love researching ideas and being creative. The following day when I got home, I couldn’t research ideas quick enough. I created a new board on¬†Pinterest¬†titled¬†Maid of Honour.¬†I don’t miss a trick me ūüėČ
My main role as Maid of Honour is to organise the Hen do! What a perfect role for me. I want to work in events as an everyday job so this is right up my street. That night I googled and googled till the early hours in the morning saving ideas for all different types of dos all ready to pull upon nearer the time, once the other bridesmaids have been selected.

Unfortunately all excitement and planning for my role as Maid of Honour stopped that night. After this day that’s when everything changed. The birth of Mad Girl to Made Girl happened and I finally had an understanding of why I had been feeling the way I had over the years.

I have yet to tell my Best Friend about my mental illness. I don’t see the hurry in telling her. She’s excited planning her big day and she only has a few months to sort everything out. I don’t want her to worry about me and worry that my role as¬†Maid of Honour¬†will have an impact on my health. If anything, being honoured with this role is giving me the motivation to get better. I want to ensure that I am there for my Best Friend right through to the Big Day. I want to help her make decisions, I want to be fun to be around with, I want to get excited with her. I want to plan the best hen do ever. And I will. I will do all this stuff and more, just with my depression and anxiety¬†unknown to her until a later date. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?

I want to end on a happy note, so I will. I took some god awful photos of the beautiful wrapping and parcel that held the good fortune of me becoming a¬†Maid of honour¬†(come on you must be getting so annoyed with me by now and my bolding of the title! I’m not even sorry, I just can’t hide my excitement!). How creative is my best friend and how lucky am I that she is my Best Friend and I get to be her¬†Maid of Honour¬†in the¬†Autumn of 2017?¬†Very is the answer.

Not Quite Made Girl



‘Will you be my MAID OF HONOUR? When the string starts to break, you know your wish is on its way.’
Will you be my MAID OF HONOUR? Autumn 2017′