I haven’t posted for a while- and let’s face it, amongst school work, traumatic life events, and simply life just racing by as usual I don’t blame myself.

I’d recently started a new blog too, more about advice, (not just mentally!), but for all sorts- fashion, health and exercise, makeup, travel- YOU NAME IT!

For all it has been a period in our lives of uncertainty, being inside for an insane, yet very crucial, amount of time, and, as the title insinuates, Adaption.

Amongst school closing, exams being cancelled, and, again, uncertainty, it has been an incredibly worrying time, not to mention my family situation! In the midst of this tragic pandemic, I left what had been my home for a few months to lockdown with my mother. From the moment I walked out of that house and to this day I am happy with my decision, weirdly, and unexpectedly, I feel as though I’ve returned to my old self of happiness and motivation.

The reality is, as much as I will forever be thankful for what was provided for me at my previous house, I wasn’t always happy at all- I was moody, not myself and felt as though I had to constantly fake I was happy to my dad. I missed my old family, my old house. I remember being so unwilling to move from my old family home, and was only manipulated to leave using materialism- a shack- all-to-myself. And to be honest, at this age, i mean come on as a 17 year old teenage girl who doesn’t want all the materialism they can get? I have cousins and friends with expensive cars, expensive phones, expensive shoes, the list goes on..!

This also caused problems however, my car and a shack is now being used against me as a grudge. People claiming i’m ungrateful and spoilt- personally I feel their jealousy and anger is something that should be their problem, not mine. Again, I personally feel strongly that, firstly, as a teenager in postmodern, contemporary society we all are in competition with peers to have that new computer, that new xbox, it’s in our millennial nature- ask any sixth former you know. Secondly, I feel that using the ‘spoilt’ card is incredibly hypocritical- why would you get me it and then turn as fast as a cat on heat, to say oh well I felt sorry for you. My last pronunciation, directly aimed at these named individuals, is to look at your own children.

Okay so since that, I guess little rant, is out the way, I can get onto my Dad’s girlfriend. Everyone asks me why, at the start I didn’t mind her, and now things have suddenly changed. I think it mainly changed when my dad (selfishly to some) moved her in at the time my mum was in a comma. It was a horrible period of my life, and having that extra stress sent me off the edge. I spent a miserable christmas with her daughter and the daughter’s girlfriend- I didn’t know them and as much as I love my dad, I didn’t feel comfortable, I didn’t feel like myself like I do now. And then comes the consistent arguments, in which let me tell you, I WAS ALWAYS MADE OUT TO BE THE BAD GUY- in fact, to my dad’s girlfirend’s implication, I was an abuser. I took the proseco, I purposefully hit dad, I’m my addict, mentally ill mother. People were so busy accusing and hating on me, and my dad was so caught up in protecting his new relationship after 2 failed marriages, that no one ever realised I felt like i was constantly walking on egg shells in that house.

The truth is, I now feel as though I have my mum’s family to protect me and help me become more me. They don’t label me the bad guy, they don’t call me spoilt like those jealous of me, and they constantly check up to see how i’m doing. I will too forever be grateful for them, as well as those who previously helped me, prior to turning on me.

So where am I now? Well I will never be talking to my dads girlfriend again, and theres others that have shown their true colours to me, with threats and inability to even message me during this quarantine. My hopes are that my dad lives a good life with his new piece, and I will occasionally see him hopefully before univeristy, although to be frank I just find it incredibly hurtful every time I hear his voice. I can’t even look at him. I’m sure many of you may have heard his story, of my disrespect and ‘change’ since I saw my mother. However I truly believe he is the one who has changed for good, his selfishness takes over his previous gleaming, funny personality and his girlfreind and kids have manipulted his opinion of me- which is now nothing.

I know this blog has seemed a little ranty, but I think writing my pain helps- and sharing it, well, you can see some of the difficult situations we can all be in. Life isn’t easy, adaption sure as hell isn’t easy, but we do get through it. I feel more myself since leaving the feelings of hatred and uncomfort that was felt in my dads house. I know my mums can still be hard, but I’m progressing in my life a lot more.

Our belief that everyone has their lives together, or that those you presume perfect, with the perfect looks, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect job, the perfect life, is in fact just what I said, a belief, a presumption, and not a reality.

Let’s face it, think in your minds now of someone you think has the best, funnest, most incredible life. Those who just have it all, and have it all together. Now think of this person as behind the scenes struggling, maybe it’s because of their financial position, maybe they are having dreaded boyfriend trouble, or maybe they have more than that, maybe a new death in the family per say. The thing is, this most likely is the case, (maybe not so profound in terms of examples!), but everyone has things going on that they hide from those around them. Little or big, it’s inevitable, part of human life.

These ‘wobbles’ we encounter in life, these high times of stress when everything just seems so much-too much. Wobbles of desperation to fly far away, to escape the now. And to be sat calmly on the most picturesque, quaint beach somewhere hot, with the moon glistening on the crashing waves. A place to put this moment of stress and seemingly hell to bed as it were.

God theres been so many wobbles, so many experiences where I just need a break. A break from the overwhelmingness transcending around my whole being. Whether it be a wobble of exam stress, of friendship issues, or, as my readers known, the grief I’m currently experiencing.

It’s the truth- Wobbles are natural, although horrific to experience, leaving you often feeling as though the happiness you’ve been experiencing has all diminished through this new period of unrest. It has to be clarified though, everyone has them. Whatever the scale, whatever life is currently throwing at you, we must collectively remember, the majority of the time, it’s all of us going through these aggravating wobbles. It’s all of us wishing to just simply escape the hardship in front of us. But we must look after ourselves, we must realise it’s a temporary wobble, and a wobble of millions.

Peace Out!

Annongirl20

If you’re anything like me, the ability to balance hefty amounts of homework, and the expectations to maintain this and have the existence of leisure time, seems entirely impossible. The thing is, students these days have expectation after expectation, with the majority of this being dedication to school work.

Being a high dreamer and achiever, I have had a love, hate relationship with this idea of balancing such important aspects of life as a student in contemporary society. Amongst many, during my GCSE’s, and more honestly, throughout the entirety of year eleven, I contained restricted leisure time as a result of my continuous work ethic. This work ethic, tragically, being of a more unhealthy nature, my anxiety as a motive for this work. And so, my academic work in the form of constant note taking, homework, and revision dominated this much needed leisure time.

As easy as it is to say, ‘just stop working and go out with friends’, this is, and let me tell you, a definite hardship when it comes to the reality of these high achieving students.

Luckily, with the help of counselling and group therapy, this anxiety was different the time sixth form came around. At times I feel the balance is a little off for me, but the majority of times, I believe myself to value this balance between allocated time for, of course, educational work, and the capability of a social life and hobbies.

Social life/work balance Questionnaire

This balance, however, is different for everyone, and hence I felt the need to gain more insight into my peers, and their attitude to such lifestyle. Using a self-written questionnaire, I asked each individually of their experiences, (two girls, two boys), and their advice to other students struggling.

The Findings

The Girls

Following the questionnaire, many of the students described their social life and work balance to be of a bad standard, with both girls arguing this be due to their priority of their job and going out with friends, often rushing work. Interestingly, one of the girls also described the extremity of both sides of such spectrum, explaining if the work load be too much, that she doesn’t go out at all. When questioned about how they maintain such a balance, one of the female students specified the power of setting specific time limits for work, for example timed essays, and making sure to organise socialising and leisure around work time.

The boys

Interestingly, the boys seemed as though highly inclined to make sure they do an hour a day, if that. One of them saying he only does ‘one hour a week, that’s all’.

Their arguments to ensure that you spend enough time working, rather than leisure activities like football or xbox, was to either force yourself, or if you don’t do enough socialising, to make sure you do the necessary work, not too much.

All students made sure to do homework in their frees, however tempting a cheeky gossip may be with your friends, it’s much more practical in that you have more relaxation time at home- and trust me, during A-levels, relaxation is a must!

It’s very important to get this balance right, as to not, may jeopardise your path to success, as well as your mental health. Newspaper after newspaper, the media is constantly revealing evidence of the pressure of exams and revision as causing worrying levels of anxiety in students. Suzie Hayman, spokesperson for Family Lives, said exams may cause “conflict in families [and] crises of confidence in young people about being able to manage”. (http://www.mentalhealthy.co.uk/news/321-pressure-of-exams-causing-worrying-levels-of-anxiety-in-students.html)

To conclude- stay safe/ keep this healthy balance/ have a happy mind! And if you don’t feel that you have any of the above, speak out and get help now, or simply attempt to change your work/social balance lifestyle.

I began my journey on the progestogen only pill due to the disheartening reality of experiencing the most excruciating period cramps I’d ever struggled with. Multiple fainting episodes, beads of sweat that would dribble down my tense temples as my back and belly ached like a knife that was consistently stabbing my muscles. I wanted the embarrassment of phoning home ill with period cramps on several occasions and the impact this had on my mental health, to exist no longer.

For a while, my doctor prescribed me mefenamic acid used to treat menstrual pain, but, as the title of this blog gives away, this was unsuccessful. The pain carried on. And so did the embarrassment of fainting. One of the most distinct unconscious experiences was sociology class- let’s just say, from the moment I put my hand up to raise concern and the outcome of ending up on the floor outside the classroom, I didn’t remember a thing. And even more horrifyingly, I was in complete confusion at the lingering, in-awe face of my old geography teacher that struck before my eyes as I, at last, reached consciousness.

The thing is, I was desperate for the pain to stop, and with this my doctor thought it was best I went on the pop pill. The progestogen pill was a bumpy ride for sure. One of the first disadvantages that became present was a very odd pain in my right calf, of course raising alarms of a blood clot. From this, blood tests were completed and I was rushed into A&E with the concern. And yet, the only thing to come from this was an uncomfortable night in a hospital room, and luckily, no blood clot to be seen. However, this wasn’t the end of my problematic period journey.

A bumpy ride indeed. This being said, irregular bleeding became a frequent occurrence, a huge disadvantage of the pill, which led to my future final decision to retrain from such hormone. This irregularity as a side effect is described as either making your periods lighter, more frequent, stopping altogether, or spotting in between, and two of these had happened to me.

I remember the nurse issuing me to continue taking the pop pill as I complained over the bothersome irregularity of my periods. It wasn’t an ideal, I was un-wanting of the consistent bleeding that would, at times, arouse an utter unawareness of its presence. And so I continued as advised, consequently resulting in months of a period free life. And let me tell you, IT WAS HEAVEN. No pain, no fainting, no more purchasing tampons. But, as thrilling as this was, it was way too good to be true.

My pill check up, like the millions of other check ups, included a bmi and blood pressure check, which went to plan and I was, very generously, given 6 months worth of the pop pill- Happy days! Although, the next week consisted of anxiety and striking nausea that I’d never experienced before, a whole new side effect had developed and was making my life seem hellish, to say the least. Another doctors appointment later, and a nurse had told me that I was appointed a different brand of my pill that have may been the cause of such naesua, and was luckily able to put me back onto the other one. Yet, the nightmare didn’t stop there.

What had felt like a lucky lifetime of refraining from periods due to my previous pill, had then resulted in a tsunami of irregularity. This irregularity evoked heavy bleeding for a prolonged amount of time, something that worried me greatly. I consulted my doctor and decided to come off my pill, (it was either that or double up!!). This again provoked even more stress as I reminisced on previous periods of monstrous pain, and so he also prescribed a stronger and more successful pain relief than my previous prescription of mefenamic acid. And what came from this still pleases me today.

Ever since my debatable decision to come off the pill, my periods have given me no trouble- finally times of 27 day cycles, and little of the pain. The cause of this sudden ‘perfection’ I cannot comment on, yet luckily the hell became less so.

It’s crazy how a pill can so dominantly affect your mental health, with my continuous bleeding causing me to feel, put in simple terms, ‘gross’. And the fact of being in a relationship meant this grossness was totally undesired. But, the pill is something you need to get right, its totally common to try out different ones, or different methods to find the right one that suits you.

So there you have it, my pill “horror story”, which many of you will most likely relate to in some way. I hope this story evokes comfort through this relation that through period problems, no one is alone.

Within my previous blog post, “Perpetrating Panic that Consumed me”, I glimpse at the mental progress I’ve made, transcending into “a happier time, a time full of romance, self-discovery, and growth”, with reference to “tranquility” and “happier mentality”. Yes, this is a portrayal of how far I’ve come and my hopes for the future. Yet, this lacks my agonising reality that 2019 has, in addition, consisted of situations of pain and emotional instability.

Social media often has this entrancing way of illustrating perfect lives, more noticeably on instagram, with influencers, celebrities, and models actively regurgitating the advantages of their lifestyles, leaving the majority of the general public doubting the ‘perfection’ of their own lives. I realised my previous blog post seemed to reflect the regurgitation of these influencers, with regards to the unconscious boastfulness of my happiness. And so, with that, here is my attempt to reinforce that lives which come across ‘perfect’ is not the absolute.

Remembering the positives that life offers

It’s hard to make comment on this pain as my life does indeed contribute great happiness, specifically evident through my newly four-month relationship, a naturally developed and intoxicatingly romantic reality- a living and breathing romcom to say the least. It’s taught me things I never thought a relationship would. It taught me that I am a woman worthy of love. It taught me to be vulnerable, realising that confiding in your partner creates an impeccable bond. It taught me that two people madly in love with one another is a possibility. The romantic side to me fully sprung, something that was new, but nevertheless, captivating. But, as they say, with the ups come the downs!

The Pain that shouldn’t cause Shame

And so, with that, my pain has been a matter of my mothers alcoholism, evolving into walking out on her own child, multiple suicide attempts, embarrassment through her victimisation online, and her abusive behaviour- the list goes on. Amongst this, I have attempted this year to focus on my own happiness; (let’s not forget, sometimes selfishness is completely necessary!).Through all the upset, anger, and grief, that comes with having an alcoholic parent, my year has definitely been packed with downs. And yes, although we shouldn’t dwell on the bad memories and focus on the positives of life, remembering to be half glass full and appreciative, this in no way means that ‘the bad’ doesn’t take place.

Don’t stigmatise “imperfections”

It never occurred to me that I crave perfection, my councillor stating this to me during one of our very first sessions, referring to my “perfectionist ways”. If were speaking realistically, no ones life is perfect. In fact, the adjective ‘perfect’ means “having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be”. However, if humanity was in a constant state of this perfection wouldn’t that just make it repetitive, boring, and arguably inhumane. Let’s face it, it’s completely okay not to live a life that you would consider as good as it gets and things to go wrong, but what you can try to do is remember the strength that bad experiences teach you. The bad completely transforming you into a positive role model of courage, powering through hardship. Maybe the concept of perfection should actually be the ability to move on from this ‘bad’ and embrace the half glass full aspects of life, rather than having the glass utterly full.

‘The good’ as societies ideal of perfect lives. Still, with the good comes ‘the bad’- something we certainly shouldn’t hide from. Let’s be aware to embrace the journey that the bad brings, and not to be ashamed or embarrassed if you don’t constitute as societies state of ‘perfection’.

You’re all perfect 🙂 – Annongirl20

Panic attacks, my breath a tragic victim to the abundant anxiety that dominated my whole being. This was a very frequent occurrence for me, a very deadly seeming one. My period of attacks consumed me until recently, a happier time, a time full of romance, self discovery, and growth.

Panic at Parents Evening

A vivid panic attack, in my fact my first, compromised of fear, unawareness, and a fuck tonne of pins and needles! It arose from the overwhelming pressure that fell heavily upon my tense shoulders-it was the night of my school parents evening. Predicted grades here, ‘exams as upcoming’ there. That evening, my youthful, ignorant eyes ran through the distinct numbers plastered upon computer screens, as teachers motivated me to exceed these predicted grades, something I found hard to cope with. It wasn’t that this was impossible for me to do so, it was very much possible, but on this precise evening my anxiety proved the better of me.

As soon as I dumped the posters of revision websites given to me from teachers on my scruffy bed, and slightly scrolled through social media, a sudden aura of panic took control of me. Heart palpitating, and a feeling of unease and dizziness began. Furthermore, the horrid vision of numbers on computer screens whizzed around in my mind like a washing machine of pressure-it was as though the predicted grades attempted to haunt me. And then, inevitably, came the invading tsunami of breathlessness, the memorable screams let out due to this unawareness of its cause. Running, my mum wrapped me in her arms, comforting me, “breathe slowly, in and out” she continuously said, desperate for her happy daughter back. As my breath revealed back to normal, pins and needles tingled immensely through my hands and feet, the disorientation transcended else where, finally leaving my body exhausted.

Ultimately, this night had consumed the once innocent, content girl that I was and, in her place, revealed, a teen packed, and overflowing, of anxiety and disturbing attacks.

Private turned Public

The panic attacks, however, did not just appear in the private, comfortable area of my home, but also, very much so, in public places. Another vivid memory of these panic attacks took place in the incredibly compact space of a school classroom. Students seated along the tightly filled rows, and my anxiety decided this seemed a great environment to have a panic attack! And so, with this, flared a horrifically situated panic attack. My awareness completely taken from me, I stood up, others eyes glaring at me as I began to scream through the breathlessness that frightened me almost every time it occurred. Storming out as quick as possible, I could hear the sniggers that lingered as I did so. Therefore, not only was I overwhelmed with panic, but also major embarrassment throughout my attempt to calm down.

Brief Understanding of what a Panic Attack is

“A panic attack is a feeling of sudden and intense anxiety. Panic attacks can also have physical symptoms of shaking, disorientation, nausea, rapid or irregular heartbeat, dry mouth, breathlessness, sweating, and dizziness.” -NHS

These are usually brought on abruptly, with many feeling embarrassed or distraught over their symptoms, and often many questioning if they are dangerous. Disturbingly, panic attacks may, at times, feel like a heart attack or other conditions, but, the answer to the dangerous question, it will not kill you. Although, they are serious, and if frequent, definitely needs to be addressed.

Today I reminisce on the continuous panic attacks that kept trend until today, as previously explained, a period in my life of very little, to none, attacks, and of tranquility-happier mentality. I know, sadly, this is not the same for others, they are continuous and are having to suffer through each abundant attack. And so, let’s raise understanding not to snigger at their tragedy, help them with their state of panic, and, most of all, know whether people, or yourself, are having an attack and awareness about getting help.

My own experience transcending into young adulthood was struck with the disheartening truth that the one woman in your life whom, without doubt, should always care for you-your own mother-drastically, was the complete opposite for me.

Cherished childhood memories of sobriety. Laughter bursting its way through my content mouth, as though to heighten my youthful innocence that the damaging effects of witness to substance abuse corrupted so abruptly.

Aged thirteen, everyone suspected she lived a lavished life of love, everyone so unaware of the hell she lived once she stepped from the school gate. Returning home to her mother revealed her once strong, female role model, left drowned in alcohol. A reckless river of tears flooding down her half unconscious face, the voice of a samaritan volunteer streaming from the phone- my mum always said she wanted to kill herself when she was drunk.

Role reversal actuality

My hero on ground zero. I would snatch the wine glass from her hand that she grasped so tightly to, for this was the only thing she truly cared for. By doing so, I would feel this infinite control for once- stupid, I know. One of the absolute certainties of attempting to cure a loved one so forcefully attached to alcohol, is that you can’t control it. I would replace it with a weak squash, (just how she liked it), desperate for this to be her preferred choice over that poison she chucked down her throat. With multiple layers, I’m tucking her in now-I don’t want her to freeze on the sofa. I’m restraining the tears from dropping so vigorously from my exhausted eyes, my throat hurts from doing so. I’m leaving her sleep it off, in dire hope for my mum back. I’m running to my room for security, a place to let these hysterical tears release so hysterically. I’m unable to speak out, my friends wouldn’t understand, people wouldn’t believe it’s severity, I don’t want her in trouble. I was the one caring, she hardly did.

This occurrence lasted four years, amongst many other damaging experiences. I gave up. No one could save her in the end. She never changed. She, herself, never had any dedication to do so.

The 2 C’s

Coping

So how, through all of the upset and embarrassment of being related to an alcoholic, do you cope? Well luckily, although hard, there are ways to cope in order to maintain mental tranquility in times of, quite frankly, dreaded chaos.

Anger was an emotion that would eat at me, the feeling of warm blood rippling through my body, and my inability to disconnect it just tempted the anger even more so. A great establishment to let off years worth of steam was the gym. Yes, the very compact, humid, inevitably sweaty gym in the heart of the countryside town that I call home was the answer to this incredibly therapeutic cleanse. Heart thumping, accumulations of sweat that dribbled continuously from my strained temples. Best of all the attempt to push yourself, exceed your physical limits, if possible, was fuelled by the anger and leaves you fuelled with racing endorphins- a complete shift in emotional dynamics.

Another way, simple and accessible, is baths. Who doesn’t love to indulge in the milky, heated water that provoke enchanting goosebumps upon the now moisturised and purified skin? Of course, this relaxation influences a new awareness of peacefulness and calm that your mind may often be foreign to, as well as encouraging deep breaths to really enhance this relaxed state. Interestingly, for me, baths became this place of safety in a household of turmoil, a place I treasured dearly in that I was away from my mothers drunken condition, despite the reality that it was a tub full of water. On that note, go run a steaming bath, put on a playlist crammed full of chill music, light some candles, and have the most supreme relaxation possible.

Social media, in spite of its downfalls, was a way for me not only to look up others experiences and the similarities of these that I faced coping with an alcoholic, but also for me to speak out to people about my situation. Let’s face facts, speaking in real life about something that at first seems terrifying, giving a sense of underlying betrayal of the person involved, is so much easier to do online. The ability to confide in someone hiding behind a screen seems so much more obtainable. Doing this will enable you to have knowledge that your not alone in this journey, and that there are people out there to support and help you, offering you a virtual shoulder to cry on.

Counselling- the second C

Something I realised was that reaching out for help was one of the smartest and most influential things I have ever done in my life. Not only does it enable you a safe institution to detach a suffocating secret, but also empowers the profound bravery that comes with being related to an alcoholic at the same time. I realised that it was ok to cry, to be angry, to be stuck in the cycle of hope that one day everything would suddenly change and that life would return to the ‘normality’ of the past. I realised that every distinct feeling that pulsated through my entire body was okay to feel, even the unexpected emotion of grief. If you were, or still are, in my position then I urge you to not feel disheartened by these uncontrollable feelings, and most of all to talk them out. How can secrecy and denial be the answer to all your problems? Well, let me tell you this now, it’s not.

Alcoholism, clearly, doesn’t only affect the person involved, but the very people whom love them dearly. It causes considerable emotional turmoil and can, fearfully, affect the mental health of these people. The secrecy needs to change, the ability to confide in others need to change, the awareness of management needs to change. Here’s my attempt to cause change.

Heart palpitating, the mind as the fastest and most intense washing machine of irrationality, and, ultimately, the struggles of lows in contrast to the highs- or maybe an inability to even develop those highs. Lets talk mental health.

Mental health issues are a major concern for society today, furthermore, an incredible concern for myself, your average teen, whom completely craves a voice on this growing catastrophe. So that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m-finally-enabling myself a voice, something which I’ve oppressed to an unimaginable degree. This is not just for my own release of agitation and personal experiences with such issues, but to be the voice of teens trapped tragically in their own minds.

I was totally influenced to start this blog due to the recent, devastating, news that a friend, holding such a extraordinary place in my heart, attempted to take her own life. In addition to this, I was influenced not just by my friend facing suicidal thoughts, but many others in my life, including myself, whom struggles with their mental health. Previously, I read on The Guardian Labs that Suicide is one of the biggest killers among young men and woman aged 20-34 in the UK, concluding the horrific reality of mental illness.

How would you feel if, from this discussion and spreading of awareness concerning mental health, that we, together, could make a difference? Exhilarating, right? So, on that note, theres no more waiting around.