So! It’s that time of the week again, where I record my mental health as it’s been for the last seven days, specifically in relation to my writing/publishing process. Today, though, things are a little bit different because it’s been a lot longer than seven days since I last updated on how the…
Well, ’tis week two of my publishing adventures and I must confess, my emotional thermometer has been yoyoing wildly. That could be due in part to the fact that I am becoming ill, so I won’t blame my writing-responsibilities entirely, but this week mental health has been at an unusual low for me and I…
Well, here it goes. The first of a series of blogs documenting my mental health throughout the next several months and all that they entail. Regrettably, this will not be as polished and pretty as I would have liked because the time that I had carved out to write this had an unexpected interruption, albeit…
Lately, I’ve been wondering… what makes a writer? Am I still a writer? Do I still count? I’ve been calling myself a writer since I was eight years old, and at that age, the title was totally legitimate. I was finding a home at Hogwarts with Harry and falling in love with the craft that…
Today, let’s talk about something of the utmost importance: my hair. Or rather, my lack thereof. It’s been almost a month now since my brother and I shaved our heads to raise money for Pieta House and, for me at least, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind situation. Let me begin by saying that…
When I was in transition year, the school organised two workshops for us; one for the boys and one for the girls. So the boys went off to some unknown location for their mental health talk, and I was herded into the Home Economics room with the rest of the girls for a lengthy lesson…
If I was a house, my anxiety would have a room all to itself. Most likely an uninviting storage room, filled with useless things that I don’t want and, frankly, would rather donate to those who call themselves my enemies. The anxiety is within me, unextractable, like some inoperable growth that I was born with…
Don’t they say that in the case of addiction there is no such thing as ‘recovered’? There is just continuous recovery. Well for me, dropping out of college feels kind of like that. Despite the fact that I have now been accepted for my third year in an Institution of Technology, I will always always always be…