13 years

I had breakfast with my mum this morning. My eyes met hers and I finally saw what everyone else sees; our eyes really are the same. A simple moment. Simple. Except for the fact that she died 13 years ago. 13 years today. I sat in bed, a wooden tray on my lap, and on it was a cup of coffee, a smoothie, a candle and a photo of her. A breakfast memorial. I felt numb. I always do. But I know that someday soon, when I least expect it, the tears will flow and I'll grieve. The grief, there is [...]

By |2016-12-29T13:32:08+01:0017 January 2013|

An EDucation

"Mental health is a subject we all, whoever we are, still instinctively avoid" ~ Ed Miliband, Labour party leader This blog post is not about politics. I just want to make that very clear. I do not care if you vote Conservative, or Labour, or if you're a staunch supporter of the Green party. Maybe you don't vote at all? I do not care. I really do not care about what you thought of Ed Miliband's speech on Monday morning at the Royal College of Psychiatrists, where he addressed the taboo encircling mental health within today's society. He's already been dissed, [...]

By |2016-12-29T13:32:09+01:001 November 2012|


There's a junk shop close to where I live. I like to stop by there, every now and then, to browse the aisles of plates and shoes and photo frames and books and silverware. When I was about 17, my mum bought me a pair of really cool, grey trousers from an expensive clothes shop. At the time, she was being treated in a private hospital for depression. She'd gone out shopping to buy me the trousers with a girl who suffered from anorexia. She was called Victoria, I think. I met Victoria once and remember that her eyes were [...]

By |2012-06-01T13:43:28+01:001 June 2012|


The black and white boy cat, from across the road, often saunters proudly through my garden with a fat, grey, wood-pigeon in his mouth. I'm really scared of dead birds. I don't know why. Maybe it's the way their wings thrash furiously during their last moments. Maybe it's their feet. I just don't like the look of birds feet. Yesterday, the black and white boy cat from across the road, sat under a tree in my garden; his tail swishing from side to side, his eyes firmly locked on his target: A fat, grey, wood-pigeon. I watched from the window. Frozen. Then a [...]

By |2013-05-21T21:30:01+01:0012 May 2012|

The post in which I share my inner-musings, whinge a little and then probably decide that things aren’t as bad as I originally thought.

I am 30 years old, and according to the self-help literature I've been reading recently, I'm in the 'emotional and creative prime of my life’. So how is it that I don’t always actually feel that way? Compared to my twenties, I am much happier, agreed, I worry less about what people think of me, I have a far stronger handle on my bubbling pot of emotions (although they still tend to boil over and spill down the sides), and I am generally much more comfortable in my own skin. I feel that I have an almost unknown resilience that lies [...]

By |2016-12-29T13:32:15+01:0017 February 2012|

Happy Valentines Day, me.

“Find the love you seek, by first finding the love within yourself. Learn to rest in that place within you that is your true home.” ~ Sri SriRavi Shankar Whether it’s a self-help book or a forum dedicated to leading a happier, fulfilling life, they’re all awash with the same core theme – love yourself. Love. Yourself. Just two words. Simple, really. But is it simple? Is it so easy to love yourself? Can you love yourself too much? Too little? How do you know when you have the balance just right? For the last year, I’ve been asking myself [...]

By |2013-05-21T10:37:23+01:0014 February 2012|


I spot an accelerating ambulance approaching in my rear-view mirror, its blue flashing lights blinding as I pull over to let it pass. Those short, meaningless seconds are enough to dislodge a single memory from the dusty pile of pain that is stacked someplace in my soul. I do nothing but sit and stare at my lap; a symphony of tears roll effortlessly in time with the melody of pain in my chest. She locked me out. That day. That, dark, derelict day. She locked me out of the house. And her mind. Doors double bolted. Telephone receiver lying on [...]

By |2013-05-21T10:37:53+01:0013 February 2012|

A letter to my 18 year old-self

Dear 18 year old-self, You’ve just turned 18, a birthday celebration you’ll barely remember aged 30, due to the high level of alcoholic substances you drip fed into your system that night. Go you! Seriously though, take it easy with the drinking, its fun, sure, but in a few months time, whilst sledging down a ski slope in France at approximately 3am in the morning, you’ll really injure your back when you fall off that sledge - something that could have been avoided if you weren’t as drunk as a skunk. Speaking of France, this will be the country that [...]

By |2016-12-29T13:32:15+01:0031 January 2012|


There is no persuasiveness more effectual than the transparency of a single heart, of a sincere life. ~ Joseph Barber Lightfoot I used to think that the word transparency, when associated with a human being, was such a negative connotation. I connected the word with a particular type of character, you probably know the one I’m taking about - the one dimensional person, seemingly devoid of any emotional depth or intellect, the guy or girl who you find yourself engaging in conversation with at a party, whilst concurrently thinking of ways to excuse yourself from the vapid dialogue. Yet recently, [...]

By |2016-12-29T13:32:15+01:0031 December 2011|

The post where I write about my Mum and death, probably cry a bit and then beg you for money. Not necessarily in that order.

Apologies for this being a long post. I tried to condense it, but then thought ‘bahh, fuck it, let em’ read’. Saturday was the International Day of Suicide Survivors. When I first heard the term ‘suicide survivor’, I figured it was used to describe someone who had failed suicide, y’know, took shit-loads of pills, but clearly not enough, or totally missed when they drew the gun to their head, and instead shot down the vase of flowers on the table next to them. But no. ‘Surviving’ a suicide means something completely different. A suicide survivor is an individual who has [...]

By |2016-12-29T13:32:15+01:0022 November 2011|
Go to Top