WRONG.

I have been extremely tight about how much I ‘let out’ during my last relationship. I hold Pandora’s box in the back of my mind, the lid shut tight, too afraid of what it all might mean if I do let it all out. I’m slowly building up to writing a post about it, getting all the memories out on paper and questioning my thoughts about it all.

I have had a terrible weekend. The ex is stirring trouble yet again. It doesn’t matter how many times I have tried to make peace with my past and sail through my life as of now, the tide always catches me off guard, grasping me by the ankles and pulling me under.

I speak to friends about the hurt he has caused. They know i have been hurt. They just don’t know the extent of it all. This poisonous person I have in my life, who I have tried to leave behind is still trying to exert his control over me by manipulation, meddling and hurtful words. This time, I know I don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’ve known it all along, even when he was part of my life it was there, cowering in the shadows of my subconscious. He just beat all the self-esteem out of me to say it out loud to myself.

This time, I will not believe his harmful words, he will not pull me under and I will not let my fear of him stop me from being the good person I have become.

“You are WRONG.”

“You WILL respect me.”

“You should NOT.”

Power. He has thrown these words at me and instead of them soaking in like they always did, they are beginning to bounce off me. No. I will not tolerate this man, Boy who cowardly uses hurtful words to try and pursue his control over me. I dropped my shackles a long time ago and they are now rusty old chains from the past.

I have a past of me saying to myself “Write about it. Every single thing that he has wronged you by. Admit it. Admit it for what it was.”

Then I imagine my fury busting out from my memory in to words and I freeze. I stop myself because I cannot mentally go back there. Why can’t I write about it? Where is this fear coming from? A fear of him finding out? A fear of people not believing me? A fear of me realizing it wasn’t all as bad as I was making it out to be?

“You are WRONG Megan. You are WRONG.”

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The Game Changer.

index

My period was 5 days late.

And I do believe what added more fuel to my freak out, was that I had taken a test out of curiosity 2 weeks before when I was supposedly ‘ovulating’ because I was experiencing unusual cramps.

I’m not pregnant, I came on eventually (even if it was alarmingly ‘late’ – probably due to sickness, i’d been ill that week which made it all seem that little bit more suspicious –)  but the last few days didn’t half make me think about life, my own current choices and my decisions for the future. I even ended up shutting N out in the process, when all he wanted to do was be there and support me.

I’d never wanted another child after I’d had my own daughter. The traumatic experience that was the birth (and the following weeks after), had totally solidified that decision for me. I just didn’t feel like I was made to be a mother.

Being pregnant with Lo and having her in my life has been the most beautiful and reshaping experience of my world as I once knew it. She is my solid core, my anchor, the one being that made me eventually realize that I had a purpose in life. Even if my mind wonders sometimes, I feel lost and disorientated, she is the one who eventually makes me know for certain, that I had never left in the first place.

I was in the Park the park with her the other day, with a friend who is still in that blissful ‘new mommy’ stage of parenthood. The sun had started to finally break out from the clouds after frozen away from the long winter we are beginning to leave behind us. The light across the hills of the Pennines peaking over our little village made it look Green for the first time in months. New light, new season, new hope. It made me feel sad.

Suddenly I was reminiscing of the life I left behind. The life I had gambled and lost, when I had it all figured out. My old house, mortgaged and secured, just up the road from the park. When Lola was at her peak of her first year of life, soaking in all of her new surroundings around her, excited by her first ride on the swings. Her little toothy grin and her flushed cheeks, her little pink beret. Her podgy arms reaching out to me, needing me. Fresh morning forest walks, we used to walk for hours, when she was taking her first steps I’d take her out of the pram and let her explore. Picking up leaves and acorns (and eventually putting them in her mouth). Picnics by the canal. Our challenging attempts to feed the ducks with her shoving every piece of bread in her mouth that she could lay her chubby fingers on. Planning dinners, stopping off at the local shops to buy fresh vegetables every day and heading off home for her nap whilst I prepped a nice hearty family dinner for when daddy got home. Bath and bed times, as a family. Putting her in her cot and watching her fall sleep so peacefully. We had done everything right, and she had the most incredible start to life. You could tell how content she was just by watching her fall asleep. So safe.

I had it all. And then I had it all taken away from me.

It breaks my heart how my life has changed so much and in the process I feel so disconnected as a mother. I feel like I’m not there as much as I owe it to her and I don’t know what happened in the process. My weeks now begin by her being at her Dad’s, whilst I got up for my 5.30am starts, and returning home, alone, around 7-8am in the evening and preparing for it all over again. Sometimes I don’t come home. I am M – the 25 year old Research Scientist trying to find her way in her career. I am not a mother.

What have I become, that the majority of my time is spent trying to earn money, thinking about my silly mood issues, and disconnecting myself from the one thing that she needs me to be? Just because my life has changed doesn’t mean I have to give myself up as a person.

“Life is hard. Just try not to lose yourself in the process.”

I have thrown myself in to my new life the past year (I can’t believe it has been a whole 12 months) believing that I didn’t want the whole family thing. I do. I really do. I want the house and the security and a partner who dotes on me, and to be healthy. I want a family, not just me and Lola but maybe even more little ones to look forward to. I want to do friggin washing every day, and slaving away over the stove every night and paying bills. I want bills! I never thought I’d say that but I want to sit down every month with my partner and have serious discussions about ‘finances’.

I want my old life back what I was working towards. I just had the wrong person in it to live it with.

I don’t just owe it to myself to I owe it to my daughter, and I owe it to N, not to shut them out anymore. I’m so harsh on him too. I’m CONSTANTLY trying to prove a point – I am M and I do not trust, I am independent and I am my own person who doesn’t need a man, or anyone else for that matter. I am always trying to test if he deserves me or not. And every time I distrust him, or turn him away, he always comes back and makes me realize that maybe it’s me who doesn’t deserve him. How can I love somebody, anybody, if I don’t let them fully in and give them a chance?

It’s funny how one simple happening such as a pregnancy scare can open your eyes and completely turn your whole perception on it’s side. I really do hope good things for this year. I just need to be willing to let them happen to me.

The Countdown.

 

clock

Ten….

Nostalgia can often be the emotion I fear the most, particularly when it comes to certain times of the year. New Years eve is probably up there in the top spot.

Anxiety, regrets of the past, heartbreak, self hatred, rejection and again – fear – for as long as I have remembered, they have all huddled up together to make up one huge heated ball of nostalgic energy that sits with me as I pass through time through the end of one year to the beginning of the next.

Nine…

I was a teenager again, absolutely warpped up in the poisonous blanket of love. It was a love that breezed heavily through my life, through everything I touched, every cell that made up my innocent self. Do you remember your first love? How intense your feelings for one special person was, hyped up and magnified by the rebellious hormones flowing through your bloodstream, that one person you would risk your life for to save one last breath of theirs.

If only I knew what the real problem was back then – the intensity of having a disorder which controls you in a painful way that you could not possibly understand without the experience. How alone it made you feel how you was the only single person on the planet, in this lifetime who hurt to the extreme over something so trivial as loving someone who never loved you back. I was 13 when I first laid eyes on the boy who unknowingly pulled me in to ten years of hell. It was only when I got my diagnosis when the chains of torture began to release themselves and I was set free.

Eight…

I cut the pain away, everytime. I was sixteen all over again. What should have been a night full of joy, friends and laughter turned in to a self-pitying party for one, where the only thing I could do was to carve in to my body to release the terror that was inside me for reasons I never understood. Never had I felt part of a team, part of someone elses soul, a collective. I went in to the next year which was supposed to be something special, full of shame, as I had to hide what I’d done away and battle my identity all over again. Some things never change.

Seven… 

New year, new me, something I always aspired towards at this time of year. I will change, something will change for the better… Little did I know that it was me who had to do all the work, to look inside myself. Nor did I know that every single year will be even more traumatising than the latter. I always had high hopes, but that soon spiralled downwards every time I felt a flare of heated emotion.

Six…

Drink. Drugs. Anything to numb the unidentified horror that I felt burning inside my raw and battered heart. Vodka, wine, whiskey, cocaine, absinthe, raiding my parents med cabinates trying to find something – anything – to poison my blood stream and change my twisted state, but each crushed pill I ingested, inhaled, it just fed in to it. I was feeding this monster and it was getting more powerful by my unruly actions. My thoughts were unidentifiable; logic, vigilance, empathy – they had dissolved the more I lost my true self. I was killing her, I was killing the real me, and I couldn’t put a stop to what I was doing. Because it wasn’t my choice anymore, no. I had stopped breathing a long time ago.

Five…

New Years Eve, 2013. I looked in to her eyes in the mirror, her reflection gazing back at me. Who owned this pair that stared back? Who was she? This body felt so powerful, this sexual energy bubbling inside of me, breathing in my own aura and growing stronger, more sensual. These thoughts inside my head had targetted exactly what it wanted – what She wanted. She wanted him and she was going to stop at nothing until she had him held down tightly by the wrists, pinning his body down underneath her. She needed. A release, to explore – a heated state that cannot be put in to empty words. She just needed it as badly as she needed herself. She was her Wolf.

Four…

She took his key, ever so confidently and took him home, without any hesitation. She unlocked his door and pulled him in. Kissed him, it felt so good to kiss a different pair of lips for the first time in years. She looked in to his eyes, so sure of herself.

“Is this her Wolf you have unleashed tonight?”

She gave a sly smile in return, and leaned to his ear.

“The Wolf wants to tell you a little secret. She’s not wearing any underwear…”

And with those words lingering in the air she slid down her dress and proudly paraded her body in front of him. The Wolf always gets what she wants; even if she has to deviate to get it. She feels no shame, no regrets, and not a single thought in the back of her mind about the man of 6 years, the father of her child, she’d left at home.

Three…

Crash. Overdoses. Self-harm. Hallucinations. Hospital visits. Missed medications. Addict. Affair, after affair, after affair. More heartbreak, rejection, dismissed. Hatred, she had become someone who she or those around her barely recognised. She was ruining her life, and she loved every single second of it. Her choices weren’t her own anymore, they belonged to some vicious, cruel entity who had latched on and swallowed her whole, sucking the souls out of everyone around her. A tsumami of ever lasting waves, repeatedly devastating the lives of her loved ones again, and again, with each hit more tragic than the last….

Two….

A light. Angels, reaching out. A saviour. A glimpse of myself, who I used to be. A fighter. A diagnosis. A lifeline. Help, finally there was help. A continuous journey of pain, that didn’t have to be taken alone anymore. Choices.

A break up, homelessness, peniless. Family and friends lost, true family and friends who walked beside me. Helped me pick up the missing pieces of my long lost self, and put the real me back together. I had nothing. Blank space. Emptiness. But it was in that emptiness I finally found myself. A chance to grow – rebuild my life. I found my home, my independance. My daughter got her mother back. The hurt was still there but I had a choice, I knew I did not have to suffer alone.

One…

The clock struck midnight on the 1st of January 2015. From one moment to the next, nothing drastic happened. There was no devastating concequences. No hatred. No rejection. No painful nostalgia this time.

For the first time in forever, the only word I would describe what I felt at this moment in time, was simply, Peace.

And it was. A contentness within myself. This time I had made the right choice. No drugs to poison my system, no more drunken mess, bad decisions, my wolf was soundly sleeping. I stayed in, no more over-partying the pain away. There was love in my heart, and not the kind of love that hurt. It was a love that was calm, gentle and content. A love for myself, my true self that I never thought i’d ever feel. Nothing felt too much, nothing to the extreme. It was almost…easy.

I looked over to my left and saw The Boy staring back at me, smiling. It was the first New Years kiss that I have remembered in a long time. Probably because I had made the choice to stay in, sat down with myself and thought, “how do I really want to spend my evening..?”

Of all the things that have lead me to that moment, all the hurt that had been caused by my past actions, not only hurt to myself but to others around me. I was grateful for that final push that shattered my life as I knew it which made me find the real me again.

2015 won’t be an easy year for me. I will still hurt in my heart, my Wolf will still sound a faint cry in the distance, and depression will probably seep in at some points over the next 12 months. My anxiety will still pop by to choke me for fun, I will still have to take my medication. But I can start the new year holding this self-love in my hands and raise it up as my trophy to show I have battled through it all and, finally, I have found some sort of inner peace to hold on to.

 

Happy New Year x

 

Love.

heart

I thought I would post a lighter hearted topic seeing as it’s Christmas Eve and all…

I have finally come to terms with the fact that (and actually allowed myself) to fall love with The Boy. As scary as it sounds to me, scary being a total under exaggeration, I am taking that brave step and allowing myself to feel something for a change, without fighting it off.

It’s early days. Thinking about it, there is so much more I do not know about The Boy. But what I do know, is that when he’s not here, it hurts.

I have found someone that, for the first time in my history of dating, respects my raw thought’s, my decisions, my passions. I have opened up to this wonderful person, and so far he hasn’t turned a judging eye to me. It’s been all ears, and an attempt to understand the best an outsider can. He has tried with me, and tried and tried again with me, and mustered the strength to be effortful with me, even if I have not given anything in return.

Love for me is painful. It hurts so much. My emotions are intense right now, it is the way I am built. I have Bipolar charged emotions, that I know can skew my health if I let it, can become dangerous to myself and to those around me if I allow them to get out of control. This is extremely difficult for me, and I’d rather hide away and shut myself out forever. My head is screaming at me to turn around and walk away without looking back, my instincts are raging to stay safe and protected, bubble wrapped from the world. But I also realise that I can’t lock myself away forever. Slowly does it, I will continue to take as long as I need to take, and I probably have a long run of painful emotions ahead of me and my feet will crumble time and time again below my heavy heart.

To The Boy – the one who has never failed to make me laugh each and every day since the moment I met him.

A wonderful Christmas to you all xxxxx

Run.

run

How do you learn to stay put and fight when every single cell in your body is screaming at you to run?

After all the hardship with the ‘ex-boy’ the past few years and the intense break up that followed come March 2014, it took me a while to convince myself that I would have to eventually trust again. A foundation had been built, steel walls entrapping the shattered soul inside, leaving me in my lonely but ever-so safe haven away from the hurtful bodies around me.

When I started getting back on the dating scene again before the Summer, I had no intention to jump in to a relationship. I knew what I needed and the intense emotions that come along with the beginning of every partnership was not it – the uncertainty, the jealousy, paranoia, the are-we-aren’t-we’s and are they going to hurt me’s – No, these were the certain things that I needed to protect myself from for my sanity, for my health. I’ve had my heart broken wayy too many times this year, I cannot bear to have it shattered again.

Besides, I knew it was hard enough to get through anyway, never mind having the burden of the Bipolarcoaster to ride with as well.

Psychotic Mood disorder + Love = Pain.

When The Boy came along in June, despite dating an exhausting 7 men at a time (I have Tinder to thank for that – a little slutty but I had nothing to lose), he was the only one who didn’t push me. Let me tell you a little inside secret about the male form from my experience;

They meet an independent woman who can stand on her own feet, express her own opinions without being scared of not being heard, a woman who can *gulp* actually say it forward and ask a guy out on a date for a change, who doesn’t ever message you first, and doesn’t mind if you don’t contact her for a whole week, who enjoys her own company, is honest and real and is not afraid to be on her own…

They meet a woman who doesn’t need them – and they turn PSYCHOTIC.

Needy, pushy, argumentative, soft and my gosh desperate – every single one of them turned slightly mental over the fact that I wasn’t clingy or needy over a guy who I was dating. I was purely real and enjoyed their company but could still enjoy my own company more, could sleep without the strings and then get on with my own life the next day. After two or three meetings, said ‘dates’ started buying me endless gifts, showing up at my doorstep unannounced after I didn’t message for two days, and even turning up at my work after not arranging another catch-up for a week (Honestly!! I believe the message that followed went along the lines of “So I came in to work desperate to see you today…”) I’d began to wonder if it was worth all the hassle I was getting, when one day I actually messaged one of them first for the first time in my series of dating shenanigans.

I remember being sat at my desk daydreaming away at work. I hadn’t heard off this Boy for a few days, and all of a sudden I felt an urge to see how he was doing. It was a real feeling, a genuine move on my behalf. Usually, I would only message when it suited me and I’d never be the first one to text, as shady as that may sound.

No, The Boy never pushed me. And so we kept on dating, took it slowly and he ended up filling every single one of my needs on the whole dating side of things.

The first night we slept together took me by surprise. It didn’t feel like a ‘one night, for the sake of it, let me just get my fix’ sort of moments. It seemed real. Nothing was rushed, nothing was played out like a game; it just was. We woke up together and spend the rest of the day with each other, lying on a grass embankment in the sun like it was the most natural thing in the world to just… be.

The first one to have me send a message first, the first one not to be rushed out of the door in the morning by me.

I ditched the dates after that night.

Six months down the line, he is still here. He has established himself as ‘The Boy’ in my life, and nothing has changed. He just fit in. Nothing is rushed, my heart has opened up slowly somehow understanding that there was no need for me to be frightened and if it got too much I could ever slow down or back out. I feel lucky to have someone like him in my life. He accepts me for my illness, he makes me laugh, he listens and he respects my opinions and decisions. He is exactly what I may have needed, if not what I certainly want in my life at this moment in time.

Then, as predicted, alarm bells started ringing.

I met his friends for the first time at the weekend. Expecting a nice night, it turned horribly wrong, when I ended up leaving feeling hurt, intimidated and disrespected over a few comments confidently expressed without a care in the world over The Boys Ex-flings, a few of them somehow thought they would just share the details of his past sex life in front of me. Ouch. It hurt. Whether it was jealously, anger, paranoia, a shatter of self-esteem or just a plain defence output over how disrespected they made me feel – it spiralled some sort of infinite anxiety loop inside of me. As much as I respect The Boy for not joining in, or making it worse in anyway, I did not deserve to be in that situation and I definitely do not want to experience what I felt in my heart that night. I would rather be alone than to be hurt by the poisonous sting of Love, whichever form it will inevitably arrive in this time. I’d rather live without the fear that I was going to get hurt and crawl back in to my castle like a princess who insists on being her own knight.

That night has reminded me just how harmful other people outside my (extremely) tight circle can be, and even though Boy’s will be Boy’s and all that – memories of how my personal past experiences of Boys (-and just that, I’ve yet to find someone who is bold enough to be labelled as a ‘Man’ ) has come flooding back to me, to haunt me, and to hurt me. For I know, and I am certain, that every single partner I have had and I have yet to have will throw that dagger and aim it to the bullseye of my heart; again, and again and again.

As a consequence of this weekend’s events, The Boy who’s smile I have fallen in love with I now want to run away from because of other people’s immature and cowardly actions.

 

 

What It’s Like To Be In Love When You Have Depression

Thought Catalog

“No one will love you until you learn to love yourself” is an easy enough phrase to believe is true. But it’s terrifying, especially when you have depression. What if you never learn? As a teenager, it made me fear for my life as an adult. I was certain I would never be capable of being in a relationship, but I was very wrong. Honestly, I do not like myself very much, and in August of 2013, a boy fell very, very much in love with me.

I have dealt with depression for as long as I can remember. I’ve been on and off medications, been to therapy, but it’s still alive and well, comfortable in its home in my bones. I can feel it every day, a tiny inkling that causes breathtaking emotional pain at the most inconvenient of times.

My depression doesn’t care that I am in a…

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Ten Things Thankful

Thankful

My Ten Things Thankful today was inspired by rosiesmrtiepants – Go check her blog out, its awesome!

So keeping up with the new positive charm of my blog lately, here’s the list of the ten things I am thankful for.

1. My Daughter – I have a stunning, amazing, charming, independent and intelligent little Missy named Lola. She is the centre of my universe and has taught me so much about myself in the past two years of her being in my life. She was the motivation that drove me to finish my degree as well as I did, the reason why I get out of bed in the morning and my icon who influences me to develop my character, better myself and my life – for me. Yesterday, when I was dropping her off at her Nana’s for the evening, she wrapped her arms tightly around me and said “I love you mummy, I miss you Mummy like the whole wide world!”

And that makes me the luckiest lady in the world to have someone in m life who makes me feel so important. I love you little Lo, thank you for being in my life. xoxo

2. The Besties – So… Not only did God bless me with one best friend, he blessed me with three! We are the ultimate Sex and the City quadruplets who have grown up with each other throughout playgroup, high school, right in to adulthood. They are the girls who I don’t even have to see face to face or even speak to each other for months, and I still have that security to know that we will still be in each others lives for the rest of our time here and beyond. Each one plays a different role in my life, we speak in code (seriously, have you ever met someone who you do not have a normal conversation with – you just communicate through silence, eye contact, facial expressions and made up languages and meaningful quotes and still fully understand each other??). We can skit each other, call each other names – and STILL be secure in our friendships to know that deep down they mean the opposite. The memories we all share together, and individually are enough to drag me out of the deepest pit of depression and lift my heart by making me smile, if only temporary.

And the most special thing about us all? Our bond has been stretched and tested all across the globe (one of them moved to Cyprus when she was 14 for 8 years, I only saw her twice a year – One of them travelled Asia last year and is now settling down in Australia making a life for herself) and it still hasn’t broken us, if anything it has made us closer and stronger.

Thank you for being in my life ladies and making a huge contribution to the person I am today.

3. My family – I have to admit I didn’t have the best time growing up family wise; my parents split when I was 7, my mum fell ill and my world fell apart.

Nowadays, I am super close to my Dad who took me in at 14 and brought me up. He’s my rock. He does his best to understand any struggles I face, even if it’s not in his blood to, always there to lend a helping hand no questions asked. I have the best dad in the world, he has taught me a lot. Thank you for being you, Dad.

Me and my Mum had a huge fall out when I left home, for years it was never the same. And then I had my daughter and everything changed. We put aside our differences and realised we have more in common than we realised. She has pushed herself to be there for me in time of need, offered unlimited and invaluable advice and been the best Nanna to my daughter I could have asked for. Thanks mum, you rock.

As for the rest of my family, my crazy aunties who treat me more like a lifelong friend, my cousins who will do anything for me, and the other side of the family who are always close my and always there to offer a helping hand.

4. My motivation – Yes, there have been countless times where I have quit. I have shut the world out and give in. But I can always rely on myself to pick myself up again after I fall down. The amazing things I have done for myself – having my daughter through out uni, continuing with uni and earning my degree, not giving up on the job of my dreams, no matter how much it beat me down. I do stumble, I do fall over sometimes but I can always rely on myself to just keep going. I know if I put the effort in, I can always unlock that unlimited drive power. It’s got me far, and I trust myself to continue to use it in the future.

5. My job – Again, its no secret that I absolutely LOVE my job. I have finally found something that I am good at, that I can go far in, it has already opened the door to unlimited opportunities. In addition, I’m highly grateful for a relaxed and super friendly atmosphere that I can work in, I have had jobs in the past where the environment was less than friendly and it doesn’t half kill your spirit.

Also – my boss is awesome. I see her more of a friend than a boss. Thanks guys, I’m so grateful for you all letting me be part of the team, and giving me the opportunity to begin my career.

6. The Cornwall Holidays – Every year, The Boy’s family treat us to a holiday to St.Ives for a week, to relax and spend time together. Last year I was going through a lot (me and The Boy split) and they still brought me along and treated me as part of the family. We are very lucky to have parents that do so much for our child, as I never had the opportunity to have breaks away when I was little (we were too skint!). Last year, no matter how alone I felt I used the holiday to have a break from the turmoil at home, from myself; let the warm sun kiss me better, let the wind embrace my hurt during long runs along the shore on the beach, and let the evening view of the stars over the sea take me away from this world, if it only dissolved my problems for a little while.

7. Music – Whether blasting out loud and aggressive music through my ipod on the bus during my college days (when I was going through a hefty self-injury phase), a relaxing piano session in the bath after a long day, motivational music during my runs or all the man-hater stuff after a hard break up – music has always been there and helped to guide me through the process of recovering from my downfalls. Music not only listens to your pain, but it reaches out to your soul and understands whatever the hell it is you are going through this week.

8. The Boy – ahhh, The Boy.

I haven’t written too much about him over the past few months I have been blogging, mainly as there is mixed feelings considering where we have been, where we are at and where we are heading.

The Boy is my partner and the father of our precious daughter. We first met 6 years ago – went through the boyfriend girlfriend stage, the moving in stage (twice!) and the parenting stage. We’ve been though turmoil during the ups and downs (literally) and the ‘I don’t even know what is going on’s’ of my illness, we have suffered many splits, many ego bruises, anger and a little bit of hatred. But we have been through it together.

After the major split last year it is clear to me that no mater how hard we try, things will never be the same romantically. He is my living partner, we bring our daughter up together and after all we have been through, we are still great friends. And I am thankful for all the help and the love he has offered along the way.

9. Hypomania –

…. I know those who have the luck to have gone through this are possibly thinking “What? What in this world made you include Hypomania on the list?! Are you mental woman??”

Here’s the lowdown; Yes, I am a little mental. But I wouldn’t be me without it.

Hypomania has gotten me in to SO much trouble. It has embarrassed me, hurt me, hurt others, confused the frick out of my life, changed my direction too many times to count, left me in debt, landed me in years of therapy… the list continues. But I always manage to ignore the other side of the list, and I think its about time I brought this in to light..

How many people can say that they have had such a surge of life enough to appreciate the pure beauty of this world? Colours are brighter, the world is magical, smells are intense, the air has never felt fresher. That’s an experience in itself. Hypomania pushes me to indulge in that beauty, totally get lost in this life and really feel what it is about. That pure joy I feel in my heart gives me a zest for life, it all good feeling balanced but come on guys, nothing feels as good as living. Really living. How boring would my life have been if I hadn’t totally engorged in it every now and again? How many opportunities would I have missed? How much more excited and fulfilling is it living on the edge rather than sat in the shadows?

I will not let this illness define me, however I am grateful for the life it is helping me pursue.

10 – and finally…

… All the boys who have broken my heart.

Heartbreak SUCKS. It hurts. Being messed about makes you feel under appreciated, unworthy, unwanted, ugly, used. I have been lied to, emotionally abused, discarded and swept under the rug.

The reason why I am thankful for all men who have messed me about is because without them I would not be the strong, independent woman I am today. Each one of them have added to my character, each one of them have been forgotten about  still remain part of my life today by contributing to one of my strengths.

Without the hurt I would not have learnt not to settle for second best. They have taught me never to let someone with a significance of a speed bump be a road block in MY life. They have taught me to raise my standards because I am worth so much more than to be treated like a girl by a little boy; I need a man who will treat me like a woman. They have taught me that I don’t need a man to help me click my heels and fly, because I am perfectly capable of doing that all my myself. I don’t need anyone else’s permission to be hurt, that’s my choice to make. They have taught me never to be anyone but my true self, eventually I will meet someone who’s worthy enough to appreciate the real me and lucky enough to have me by their side. They have taught me the value of enjoying my own company and feeling, well…

Free.

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They have taught me to love myself. And I am very grateful for that.

So cheers lads! Thank you for the pain and the heartbreak, if it wasn’t for you lot I wouldn’t have banked so much self-worth and self-respect along the way. You have helped me to grow by allowing me to pick out and bank the bits and pieces I needed from you all and invest in myself, adding to my true value. I am shining, and I am continuously moving on to better things.

So there we have it… my Ten Things Thankful. I feel somewhat relieved by completing this post, it has been such a strong reminder of the positive things I have to treasure in my life.

One last thing… I challenge everyone who comes across this post to stop what they are doing and continue the domino effect, by  spreading the positive vibe and allowing yourself and your readers to dig deep and bringing fourth their Ten Things Thankful. Happy Sunday 🙂