What it feels like to have anxiety

I don't remember 'getting' anxiety. I just know that I used to love talking to people and doing stuff by myself and now I sometimes can't physically get the words out. The shitty thing is, I'm not a shy person. I just have anxiety. I want to talk to you, but I can't. It gets lonely. It feels like there is a tape across my mouth and I can't talk, no matter how hard I try to get the words out.

There's so many things I'd like to do that I can't. People say, 'oh, just try, it's your fault,  you just need to tackle it, you are letting it control you...' but I can't. Try telling a brain thats almost nearly permanently stuck in fight or flight mode to do opposite action thoughts, or lungs that know they are on the edge of a panic attack that they need to take deep breaths. Sometimes, it might work. If I'm feeling slightly anxious. But full, top notch anxiety for me is feeling like I am going to die. Ask someone who is being chased by a polar bear to 'just do some mindfulness'. That's how my brain feels. 

I don't want to feel like this. I am not 'feeling sorry for myself'. I am nearly 20 and I can't send my drink back in costa when they make it wrong, or send a reply to my tutor when he emails me. Or join a society. Or have a wide circle of friends. Or keep in touch with the friends I have. I would do anything not to be like this. 

I know I'm not alone in feeling like this. I know so many of my friends who manage to put an an incredible show of bravery when they feel like there is a thousand worms in their stomaches. People who went to school every single day even though they felt sick, or got on the bus, or stood up in front of a group of people. Or even just managed to say hi to somebody despite feeling like they were free falling out of a plane with no training or a parachute. 

The hardest thing about having anxiety is people not understanding what it's like having anxiety. Anxiety can feel the same as when you're home alone and you've just watched a terrifying film and you think you hear someone upstairs, except you're just returning clothes to a shop, or asking a stranger the time. Anxiety disorders make your world shrink, but people understanding can make the difference between leaving your house and staying in. 

If you have anxiety, tell people. tell your friends, tell your teachers, tell your tutor (if you're in college). Trust me, it will help. If they don't understand, have your GP write a letter explain. (obviously not your friends, that would be kind of weird). Mental illness is just as debilitating and valid as physical illness. Never ever apologise for it. We all know what the stigma around mental illness is like, especially in Ireland, but it is changing and most people simply don't understand. Having the support of friends and family in everyday life, and your college, school or work can be the difference between being able to cope and not, and while you think that you might be able to get by without it, having help and being around people who understand can be a huge stress reliever and really make a huge difference to your quality of life. 

Anxiety is shit, but it can be managed. I got a bus today and I didn't feel like I was going to die. Or vomit anywhere. So if that isn't managing, I have no idea what is.  

NOBODY CARES EXCEPT YOUR DOG

With all the shitty things that are going on in the world, I have been appriciating the fact that dogs exist even more than usual recently, which is something I didn't think was possible. Reading week, for most people, was a chance to party, or meet up with friends from home. For me, it was an opportunity to spend as much time as possible with my dog. Yes, that might be weird, but my dog is THE BEST. 

Bambi is 1 year old and we got her on christmas day. Some people probably think the sound of children laughter is the sweetest in the world. They are wrong. It is the sound of bambi's claws clicking against the floor as she scampers over to me when I call her name. 

Nobody appreciates me doing anything like my dog appreciates me bringing her for a walk. Her little face lights up and she waggs her tail so much its kind of like twerking. So cute. So much joy. 

There is a tremendous amount of shitty things happening in the world right now, we still have dogs. Everyone seems to be posting their opinions on Facebook, and someone who I am friends with posted a very aggressive and bigoted thing after the paris attacks. It really made me realise that when people post statuses on Facebook nobody cares. Everyone is just shouting their opinion, and they either agree with what you say, the violently oppose it and fight with you in the comments, or they don't care.

So many people posted educated and enlightening things, and that's so great to see. At least the majority of people I am friends with understand the huge plight that muslims are going through, and refugees are going through. With the invention of social media people are definitely more educated. But it also seems they are deaf to hearing other peoples opinions. People seem to think (i am definitely included as one of these people) that public opinions on social media are things that their friends or followers desperately want to hear. It just isn't true.

The people who want to hear your opinion will bring it up in conversation. If you want a genuine response, tell it to your dog. They will be so excited to hear emotion in your voice that you will receive a more attentive reaction that any of your Facebook friends are willing to give. 

It's my birthday and my anti- wrinkle campaign has begun // reflections on turning 20

Me on my last birthday with my youthful skin

It's my birthday next thursday and I'm scared. I'm turning 20. Twenty. I distinctly remember being 14 and my dermatologist telling me that I had a couple of years left of not using anti agin products but when I turned 20 it was time to start tackling my aging skin. Now I am 20 and my skin is aged. I am old. I am over the hill. Well, maybe not quite but I am no longer a teenager and therefore approaching the hill.

I do things like buy toilet paper for myself, take out the bins and decide that it's not sensible to go out because I have a lecture the next day. I haven't eaten mcdonalds in months. 

I wrote this before meeting my mum and aunt, Rosamund, for afternoon tea. My feeling on the subject after this life changing tea is quite different. 

Rosamund stopped telling people her age when she turned 21. I am going to do the same. Every so often, she has a significant birthday, but her actual age is never revealed. So it doesn't worry her. After all, this is only a number, a cliche but true saying. So after 21 I will officially stop counting the age and focus on the amount of presents I get instead. That is the real reason for birthdays after all. 

I am going to use turning 20 as an opportunity to change some things in my life. Some small and some big. I am going to spend less time watching shitty TV and more time doing things. You never remember the 10 hours you spend watching keeping up with the kardashians, but you remember reading, or crocheting, or drawing. Or not but you have something to show for the end. I know I am turning into my mother when I say this. 

I am going to stop wearing sweatpants outside on most occasions. Obviously, there are some times that simply cannot be got through without sweatpants. Being hungover is one of these. But I have fears of becoming a middle age woman wearing trackies and in my effort to avoid this I am going to try and wean myself off them (at least in social situations).

I am going to read more. And I am going to read whatever I want, and If I don't enjoy a book I am going to give myself permission to stop reading it halfway through. Instead of scrolling through instagram before I go to bed I will read. 

I am going to print more pictures so instead of having thousands of digital images I never look through I at least have some that I can look back on. 

I am going to start putting my health first. Nothing is more important than being well, and I need to stop putting unrealistic goals and my perfectionism above my happiness. 

I am going to start doing the things I love again. I feel like I don't do a lot of the things I really love anymore and I miss them and would be happier if I did them. So I will. 

I am never going to pretend I like kale ever again. I do not like kale. 

I am going to spend more time with the people I love. I am going to travel and see the world and write and listen to music. I will never allow anyone to treat me unfairly, be rude to me, degrade me. I will believe in myself. 

Some of these things are big and some are small. I feel like my life has really changed, and is really changing right now. The main thing being half my face has swollen up so half of me is a happy puffer fish and half is an angry puffer fish. This fact would have made me super self conscious and I probably wouldn't have been able to leave my house a couple of months ago. However, today I went out to lunch with my dad and worked my confused puffer fish face and it didn't bother me at all. 

if being 20 means ageing skin, but I get to care a tiny bit less about unimportant things and actually start being the person I want to be, I am ready for it. 

Apple, the dementors of the technological world

Apple just sucked another large chunk out of my ever diminishing consumerist soul. My iPhone broke. As in, completely won't turn on/restore. This isn't really an unusual thing to happen in the life of a smartphone owner, unfortunately. I guess every phone breaks after a while (even my dad's nokia brick only lasted 11 years) . The thing is, I had owned this particular iPhone for exactly 1 week when it decided to stop working. So by the time my iPhone gets back from apple, where it is being repaired because it is faulty, it will have already spend double the amount of time I have physically spent with it being fixed.  

I feel cheated and let down. I have owned iPhones for the last 8 years. I am a die hard apple fan. The first computer we ever had in my family was a (massive, looking back on it) apple mac. My grandad owned one of the first apple computer in Ireland, and it's still in my granny's attic. So I am a die hard apple fan. How could they prove the haters right and leave me with a broken phone after 1 week? 

For a moment I nearly considered selling my iPhone and getting, gasp, a samsung. I have heard nothing really bad about the samsug galaxy S6 (actually, my boyfriends mum's broke after a week, but apart from that), and I know android is a much more fluid and customisable operating system, and it is equal to, if not better then iOS. 

But, I am not going to. Owning apple products is like being in an abusive relationship. It's so good at the start, and even though they manipulate you and treat you like shit, you keep coming back for more. The really clear interface. The fact that they are so pretty. The fact that I know my macbook will last me for years, and the update after the new one has to be better than the last, surely? 

I know apple are completely playing on all my consumerist weaknesses, from the packaging to iMessage and everything in between. and I am not going to pretend to know a lot about computers, and argue the individual specs. Even writing this makes me feel unqualified for the post (if that even is a thing). I guess all I really know is that I really really like apple products and I really really don't like the idea of not owning apple products and although I may have been brainwashed into thinking this I don't want the fantasy to end. Not yet.

So, I don't have a phone for a week because the new software update damaged the software (ironic, I guess), and even though apple are the ones that left me stranded in this technology desert (ok I am over reacting, I still have an iPad, a TV and a laptop) I am counting down the days until I see that little white logo light up my phone once more. 

And I don't have to awkwardly skulk around bookies to use their free wifi so I can meet up with people. But that is a whole other post. 

Judge a man not by his character, but his ability to wear heels

Walking down Nassau Street last night at around 9.30 I came across a group of girls who were obviously on their way out. A couple of the girls were barefoot, carrying their shoes. Now, I'm not going to pretend that has never been me, on a night out. As I was watching them I was wearing shoes that were trying to amputate my feet, or so it felt. Many times, after wearing heels on a night out I have taken them home and walked home barefoot because I have reached my pain threshold for the night.  

But if it's before ten and you are going barefoot, and you're sober... why did you wear heels out? This is something I cannot understand. I never really wear heels out, not because I don't like them, but because I can't. Dyspraxia, having very small feet for my height and drinking is like the perfect recipe for bruises that look like I've been hit with a hammer. Not wearing heels means I am able to scamper around time my hearts content and walk home afterwards. 

Being tall means that I don't need heels for height, so I guess I am privileged in this way. I am roughly the same size as most of my friends, if not taller, when they are in heels and I am in flats. I can see how it might make you self conscious if you were smaller then your friends and wearing flats. Probably not as self conscious as when you will inevitably flop yourself on dublin's uneven pavements( I have twisted my ankle, sober, in flats about 5 times due to potholes in the pavement) but maybe I'm just sensitive. Also, unless you have that incredible girl-power that my friends seem to have, don't go anywhere near temple bar in heels because you will die, and if you have this power non of this article applies to you anyway. 

Not being able to walk in heels is one of the most unattractive things ever. The pain, or the change in gait or something forces you to adopt a pose much like turkey. No matter how good you may look, or how great your makeup is, you still look kind of like a turkey. And the wobbling makes you look like your ankles are separate entities and they have been drinking for 3 days and are trying to escape. 

The average irish male is about at eye level for me so when I'm wearing heels I can pat them on the head with ease. This is a huge perk of wearing heels but not, at the end of the day, worth the blisters/ walking like this

If you are a girl and you can walk in heels, you deserve a free pair. People (men) who don't/haven't worn heels do not understand the incredible feat that is taking place every time you walk somewhere. Also people (men, but especially women who have worn heels) should NEVER EVER hate on men who do. They are taking something that is difficult and making themselves great. If you diss a man (or anyone) wearing heels you deserve to get that heel impaled in your foot. After all, it's more or less how it feels for them (or for me, because I am weak).

Every day I see women (and the guy who I pass on camden street) contorting their feet into an unnatural position and looking frickin' amazing while doing it and I want to salute you all for your skill and bravery. But, if, like me, you do not posses such skill... leave the heels at home. 

Scream Queens Review/ Sorority chainsaw massacre

I can't stop watching scream queens. Not because it's a good TV show, because in most senses it's not. I don't really care what happens to the main character, grace. In fact, I'd actively like if she dies. She is the typical, nice girl who meets bitchy, rich mean girls and needs to save the world type, and it's boring. She isn't even funny. She wears a paddy cap (if that's the right word, you know what I mean). I was disappointed when her head wasn't mown off with a lawnmower. Hopefully the 'red devil' (creepy masked guy who is killing everyone) cuts of her paddy cap wearing, self righteous, do- gooder head in a future episode.

  "You know what, maybe it’s not Grace I don’t really like. Maybe it’s that fucking newsboy cap that this bitch NEVER TAKES OFF" _ desi-khaleesi, tumblr

There are some serious problems with this show. The only two coloured female characters talk like they are from the ghetto, which seems like a really really pathetic attempt to a) have a diverse cast (really??? did you even try??) and b) shitty, kind of racist humour that isn't even funny but instead makes me think about the representation of minorities and people of colour on screen, and feel sad. The two LGBT characters are both predatory and come across as desperate and seedy- the lesbian being butch and man hating, which just doesn't add anything to the show as well as being mildly offensive and tired. Most of the characters I just can't care about. I haven't actually even felt any emotion at anyone dying yet. 

But, despite all this, I have watched all 5 episodes and I can't wait for next weeks. The clothes and bitchiness in this show are SO ON POINT I am prepared to sit through all the rest of the (many) boring bits and watch characters that I don't care about die. Emma Roberts as Chanel Oberlin is a genius. She has perfected the sassy, spoiled sociopath and I want to watch every minute of her being a psycho bitch that I can. 

Then, their is the clothes. I don't know what to say about the clothes, only is I start wearing cat-eye sunglasses and a pink fur coat all year round the you know why I am doing it. Also, if you know why I suddenly turn into a complete and utter psychopath, you know my inspiration 

World Mental Health Day!

I have been sat here staring at a blank page trying to think about something to write about world mental health day. Not because I don't have anything to say, but because I have too much. Mental health is something that has hugely affected me. I don't want to write 'my story', because it is still too soon, for me and the people who supported me through it. I also don't want to write a general piece on how the silence and stigma needs to change either, because how ever much I try to distance myself from it, I can't. 

So I am, instead, going to write about how, at the darkest and worst times of my life, when I couldn't see a reason for living, because it was too painful, there were people who stuck by me no matter what. Who loved me, despite the hell I was going through and bring them along with me. 

It's a massive cliche, but I am still here in no part thanks to the mental health services in ireland. Individually, I have had the fortune to have met some lovely health care practicioners, nurses and doctors who despite working in a terrible system still managed to make a difference. 

I could spend all day talking about the terrible things that renowned doctors said to me, and my parents. The times when I was in desperate need but the waiting list to see anybody was a year long, the general insensitivity that seems to be prevalent and the sheer ignorance of mental health in this country, and the world in general. But this is not what got me here today. 

What got me here today was my mum and dad, who let me drop out of school. Who understood that I couldn't get out of bed and didn't make me feel bad about it, because they knew how much pressure I put myself under. Who drove me to appointment after appointment even when nothing seemed to be working and never, ever complained. 

My sisters and brother. For forgiving me for taking up all my parents energy and attention, and never once made me feel ashamed for it. Who even when I was at my sickest still treated me as normal. 

My friends. Aoife and Jean,at the earlier stages, Emma and Emsie and Katie, later on. The people who listened to me and loved me even though nobody really understood what was going on, least of all me. People think they have best friends, and I guess they kind of do, but not like that. Aoife and jean basically kept me alive when I honestly felt like the real caoimhe had died and there was an empty shell left. They were there through the worst days of my life. They understand my need to make horrible jokes about it all and they laugh. Even though they had awful stuff going on too they still let a massive centre stage light shine on me for years. I am becoming incoherent because I am blinded by love. These are the people that helped me recover. 

The girls I met in hospital also get a special mention. I won't name you, but you know who you are. Somebody that can make you laugh when you feel so bad that you can't even shower is somebody that deserves a medal, especially because they feel bad too. You were the people who really helped me through hospital. 

My boyfriend, for not caring. And for letting me cry. And for understanding that it is physically impossible for me to cry while watching TLC and not caring that he has sat through far more reality TV then I have ever sat through foot ball matches. Even though he didn't know what he was really getting into, he never cared. And he always calls me to ask if I'm ok. And know when I'm lying.

All the teachers, and lectures, and tutors that made sure I could continue with my education.  That made me feel ok about walking into a class not having gone for weeks. That extended my deadlines, and understood that I get anxious about answering emails. That spent time helping me to catch up. I may have not always said it, but thank you from the bottom of my heart. You made being sick and having some sort of normal life happen. You made sure I was able to continue my education, the most important thing to me. 

The people who knew I was unwell, and asked was I ok. That were nice and understanding about me missing a lot of time in college and didn't make me feel bad or weird about it. All you people are in halls, in college, in school... The fact I could be having a shitty time and someone would be nice and understanding has made me feel so much better so many times. You might not even know that you are doing it. But thank you.

So I guess what I am trying to say is, thank you. I don't always say it. I feel awkward. All these people were not trained doctors, or nurses, or psychiatrists, or psychologists or therapists but you helped me get to where I am today. You have made such a huge difference to my life and I am so grateful to have all of you. 

So, if you're struggling, look around. You might not be able to see it but there are people that love you and are trying to help you as best they know how. Mental illness is just as serious as physical illness. It's not just in your head. Your health is the most important thing. Don't be ashamed to suffer from mental illness. 

I guess I'm living proof that it does get better. Even if getting better seems the most impossible thing in the world.