In my head, but not here to stay.

It doesn't matter if it's big or small, raining or shining; if my brain latches onto it, it's there to stay.

I've always been known as a worrier; I was a 'highly conscientious' child as quoted in my school reports, eager to please everybody, and very critical of myself. Whilst those are good qualities in reasonable amounts, when you begin to take an non-existent problem and run with it, it's time to re-evaluate those qualities.

There's always been a stigma with mental health. Lots of people, especially celebrities, are now opening up to the fact they don't always feel right, and this is amazing. The YouTuber Zoella openly admits she has panic attacks and has helped support and raised awareness to and for millions of viewers. But why is it still that as I'm writing this I'm afraid?

I was diagnosed with OCD at university. I used to have these thoughts that would run round and around my head, telling me I'd done things wrong, that were 'bad', that I'd be 'found out', causing me to check and check and check that I hadn't committed another non-existent crime, or said something defamatory about a friend or family member. I hate making mistakes: I catatrophise them, and often can't let them go. My friends, some of which are still around today, would get texts asking cryptic questions, "have I said anything relating to so and so...?", which are really weird texts to receive I imagine, but would give me that quick burst of relief when the answer was 'no'. The more I did it, the better I felt, then the amount of trust in myself would diminish until I had no idea what I'd even been worrying about. This changed with the help of tablets and a lovely lady I see once a fortnight. My thinking behaviour changed: I now think logically about (most) problems and try to focus my brain somewhere else, because the world won't end if I don't get the answer *now*.

The reason I'm writing this today is because I have been in a bad mood all day but I didn't know why, until I realised I had things on my mind. They started circling around again, like a brain fog: no discernible 'objects' to focus on but still thought flies buzzing around about "what if this happens" and "what will I do if this happens?". I need to write this, for my own realisation of taking responsibility for myself. I needed to give myself a bit of a talking to: I went into a quiet room and got on with things, didn't think about it, then moved on. People as you know react to worry differently: I don't cry anymore, but I get antisocial. I can be stand offish, and defensive: I want to get on with 'things' and make 'activities' for myself on my own. I don't mean to be like this - it's how I have found best to cope.

If you have somebody in your life who is affected by worry, the best thing to do is rationalise and talk with them. I don't want to be given the answers - I need to see for myself I'll be okay. The worst thing I got told as a teenager was "snap out of it" - I will do when I realise it for myself. I was told a little while ago I've been receiving 'tests' at work (sneaky), and actually, this has done me the world of good! (if you're reading this - don't make them too hard though please!). I've realised I'm not going to lose my job, and I'm not going to be in trouble if I make a mistake, because mistakes are human and okay (unless you kill somebody, then that's obviously not). I'm so lucky to have people around me who see this as a quirk, and not a burden, and work friends who support me and look after me when I'm having a moment. I guess this is a thank you, even if it's not read by them, from me to you, for helping me be a better version of myself.

Other People's Lives.

For me this post is quite significant. It may be a load of rubbish. It's a sign that I am beginning to find my identity again after a long time of feeling null and void. You know when you grow up, and you have certain friends who are the indie friend, the cool friend, the sexy friend: you'd go round to their houses, and prefer how their bedroom was more than yours, and liked their clothes more than yours etc...well, I've been stuck in that place for a while. I'm almost 31.

I used to have loads of hobbies. I did beauty blogging for one, and I LOVED it. It wasn't until a recent hen party, where a make up artist friend I had met on twitter introduced me as a beauty blogger, did I realise that I had this hobby. I gave up on it, because I simply couldn't afford every new product out there, and I'm no Lily Melrose. I  used to love looking at abandoned buildings (yes, weird) - I liked the history behind them, the architecture, and the sense of people's lives being stuck within them almost like ghosts. I had a dream to go to Tokyo to visit the Buddhist Monastery gardens and shop in the Hello Kitty stores...where did this all go?

I realised something a few days ago. I'm actually okay. I'm doing really well in the teaching job that I love, and am so lucky to have found my passion in. I have an okay flat (plagued by problems, but I'm not making them my own), and I have a lovely family and great friends. I need to stop worrying about what is missing from my life and start looking at what's in it. I could write a list of all the people I wish I was like here. I constantly look at my friend who lives in the same building at how beautiful she is, and how her bedroom is always tidy, and she's thin, thinking, 'why can't that be me' - why not? I've stopped eating so much rubbish, and I've learned how to contour. People's lives are not always as perfect as they seem, and it's fine to have eccentricities, quirks, positives and negatives.

So, this is a space for me. If people read it, brilliant! If not, it gets all of the stuff out of my head. And if one person reads some posts thinking 'I understand what she means', then that's great. I'll try and fill it with nice things: trips out, products I love, food, and general thoughts. I think it's about time that there are realistic blogs out there: life isn't always instagrammable, and that's okay for me.