You didn't say no...

With another headline and another woman coming forward everyday with an allegation against the Hollywood film producer Harvey Weinstein, it felt too important to ignore. I read an inspiring article by Brit Marling in The Atlantic, she has such a way with words and so I decided to write a quick poem on the topic of sexual harrassment and assault. I am aware this can happen to men too and don't want to ignore that. The 1 in 5 statistic was taken from the Rape Crisis website.

You didn't say no

A pair of hands upon your shoulders,

Fingers squeeze around your thigh,

Nausea building within your stomach

Your body frozen – a silent cry

The violence that we see in movies

The sensational stories in the news

This isn’t what you’ve yet encountered

And so you find a way to excuse

He says he’s just drunk and joking around,

“All I did was squeeze your bum”

Now look at you silly, overreacting

“Drink some more, we're just having fun”.

Things have stepped up a notch

In this erotic exchange

You leave feeling dirty

And the one to be blamed

If you hadn’t drank so much

Or had shown that much skin

“You really need to be more careful”

Patience slowly wears thin

Guilt and fear begins to mount

You didn’t say no, you must’ve given consent

But you felt pressured and coerced

But still not a no, so the silence leant

Towards the swamp of shame,

You now find yourself stuck

He didn’t physically hurt you

Just put it down to bad luck

But emotional wounds

Take much longer to heal

Angry, confused or upset

You need to check how you feel

1 in 5 women

Too many to count

Consent is a yes

Absent from pressure or doubt.

Self-dependent women

What are the differences between being independent and self-dependent?

Moody picture of me looking independent as fuck.

As quoted from the good old Oxford dictionary, being independent means to be “capable of thinking or acting for oneself”.  Being self-dependent is defined as “reliance on one’s own strengths rather than others”. So, not a massive difference, but there is of course, a difference nonetheless.

I moved out when I was 19, so I think it’s safe to say that by now I am quite independent. Self-dependency, however, has been more difficult to grasp. The need to sponge of others to fulfil my emotional needs is something I am not a stranger to, whether that be through a boyfriend, family member or a friend. I’m lucky in the fact that I have some great friends who have handled my neediness in the past.

I’m in a situation now where my family and closest friends aren’t five minutes down the road for me to see whenever I want or at the end of the phone constantly – and that’s hard. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve come on leaps and bounds from years ago where I felt I needed reassurance within everything I did which I think was a result of my anxiety. It’s like I needed someone else’s approval to do something whether it be wearing a particular outfit that for me is quite daring (just wear the goddamn thing) or trying to get other people to help make decisions about my life, because I was too scared to take the risk on my own.

I am the only person who can create my happiness, for which others can then enrich. If I constantly rely on others, I will never be happy. I see and hear about so many people who wanted to do something (myself included), but were waiting for a partner or a friend to get on board. A big one, is travelling. If you do get to go travelling with your best friends, that’s great and you’re very lucky, but not everyone’s stars align at the same time. Not everyone’s circumstances are going to be the same whether that be due to finances, their job, family etc.

We only one get one life and I’m already around third of the way through mine. When I’m old, I want to look back and know that I chose my own story – I didn’t just tag along onto someone else’s. 

Lucy x

The Outfit I Will Never Wear Again

Hi guys, this is a memoir I wrote for a writing competition a few months ago. Unfortunately I wasn't placed but enjoyed writing it all the same and I thought I would share with you - enjoy! Lucy x

The all-too-familiar smell of that warm, yet spicy cologne and the feel of the cotton against my skin as I plunge my arms once more through the sleeves of the dark green checked shirt that’s three sizes too big for me. It hangs on me like the tarpaulin of the crumpled tent we spent three rather damp nights in at a music festival a few years before. It seems such a long time ago now. When we thought, we were blissfully happy and had not a care in the world.

Although I don’t want to, I can’t help but bury my face into the fabric, breathe deeply, close my eyes and remember. Remember the time we went on the spontaneous road trip to Scotland and how we had one too many tequilas and ended waking up the unimpressed guests in the residing rooms with our rendition of “500 Miles” by The Proclaimers. Or the time when, we were on holiday in Portugal and we thought we would be spontaneous and try exciting and exotic foods like octopus. It made us feel adventurous and daring at the time, but hours later we regretted this decision. Ending up curled up in the fetal position, clutching our stomachs and praying for the profound cramps and projectile vomiting to stop. That octopus had the last laugh.

As I cross my arms over my stomach and grasp the sides of the shirt tightly, I imagine feeling your head resting on my shoulder, the warmth of your breath on my ear. Then I feel the bristles of your beard scratch my cheek. I remember how it felt like tiny needles stabbing my skin and how irritating that was. How, whenever you told me you loved me, your eyes wavered as though it caused you pain to look at me, like looking directly at the sun.  When I eventually found out and I told you how much you hurt me, you looked through me like I wasn’t even there. You said all the right things of course, that I was the only one for you. There was nobody else. But then when I questioned this you told me that I had it all wrong and that in fact somehow this was my fault. For six long months, I went on believing this, that I wasn’t good enough and that if only I had tried harder this might not have happened.

Suddenly, the once comforting smell of the shirt begins to slowly repulse me. The cotton no longer feels as soft as it did, but like a scratchy old towel that had been left to airdry for too long. My hands release from my waist. Although the shirt is so big it nearly reaches my knees, I now feel suffocated wearing it. For the last time, I remove the shirt and I smile. I know I am enough.

Peaks and troughs

It’s been a while since I last posted. My studies, work and life in general happened and something had to give. It’s a shame it had to be one of the things I was most passionate about.

I’ve been feeling rather deflated the past few weeks. A lack of sleep, mixed with excessive alcohol consumption (after a week of partying in Marbella), an abundance of caffeine filled drinks and the stress of an exam deadline has proved to be too much for me it seems. I can tell by the flatness in my voice when I speak to people, my heightened irritability, my lack of appetite and energy that I’m not myself. I feel exhausted.

I need to remember that it can’t be sunshine and roses all the time and that depression isn’t just something you defeat for it never to return again. Today is the first day, that I’ve sat down and acknowledged that I don’t feel myself and that I have been feeling low –  but there is nothing wrong with that. And so, I’ve spent the day in bed feeling a bit miserable, but for me that is part of the process. You can’t always just *pick* yourself back up straight away.

Now that I have got a break from my studies, I decided I’m going to focus more on my physical and mental well-being. Part of this plan includes not drinking alcohol for at least 30 days. This may seem easy for some people, but when drinking becomes such a common social activity it can be difficult to get away from. I don’t want this to be misinterpreted, or to come across as if I am an alcoholic – I’m far from it, but I’m getting tired of the heavy weekends out with friends and then ending up wasting the next day and eating rubbish, because I’m too hungover. It will be interesting to see what reaction this gets as I know it will be too easy to be labelled “boring” for trying this out.

The second part of my plan is to be outdoors more, go for walks, try to attend yoga classes, even if it is just once a week. I’m trying not to give myself unrealistic goals and so I feel like I need to make my goals quite basic to begin with. Eventually, I want to see how much money I actually save by not spending money on jagerbombs that give me horrific palpitations the next day. The money that I do save, I plan on booking a few personal training sessions to kickstart my healthier lifestyle. I’m sure many will read this, particularly people close to me well that will probably think this is just a phase, but I really do want to better myself.

I apologise if this post isn’t as engaging and if there is a lack of a “playful” tone, but whilst I felt like this I thought it would be a good chance to write and to acknowledge that everyone has peaks and troughs. The important thing is to talk to people and let them know how you are feeling. Don’t ever think you are burdening someone by telling them how you’re having a shit time as if it’s someone who truly cares about you they will want you to tell them. It doesn’t even need to be a big, scary conversation. I just went through to my Mum when she was watching Coronation Street (obviously this depends on how passionate your parents are about watching the soaps – luckily she has Sky+) and told her that I was feeling run down, stressed out, that I didn’t feel myself and to be honest she said she could tell before I even told her.

It’s good to know that I can have such a normal conversation with her about it, and I feel grateful as I know it’s still such a taboo subject for some. People just don’t feel comfortable getting into conversation with someone when they say they are unhappy. I know I sound like a broken record, but the power of talking, no – even more importantly the power of listening is incredible.

Thanks for reading, hopefully my next post will return to it’s original GIF-filled, sarcastic self.

Lucy x

FOMO and my purpose

Has anyone ever experienced the stress of FOMO? The cognitive dissonance experienced when you really don’t want to miss out on seeing Barbara take down ten jagerbombs in Magaluf and then attempt to win a twerking competition by awkwardly thrusting the air whilst screaming #YOLO…

but at the same time you’d much rather be cuddled up in your Christmas onesie with your dog and bingewatching another Netflix Original series.

FOMO happens to me on a weekly basis. Of course, I want to go out and be a social butterfly. I want to dress up and transform myself into “Weekend Lucy”(it’s kind of like my drag queen alter ego, except my make-up looks shit, and unlike me most drag queens can last in a pair of six-inch stilettos). Living in a city makes it so much harder when there are so many fun events and opportunities to take up and although I’m all for trying new things and socialising, sometimes we just need to slow things down and remember it’s ok to say no to doing something. The reason I bring this up, is because as of late I have felt exhausted and it’s a constant battle trying to balance work and trying to have a social life too.

Over the years, I’ve found it seems to be impressive, if you tell people how busy you are and all the events you have planned. It makes you seem like you have “purpose”. Purpose seems to be a major thing for people to have, particularly in their 20s. When someone asks you, “What are you doing with yourself?”, “Where do you plan to be in the next few years?”, “Do you still live at home?”. All these questions, yet what they are really asking is how much do you have your shit together. I for one, am happy to admit that I don’t know what I am doing with my life. I have no idea what I will be doing in five years’ time. And do you know what? I like it, I like not knowing what will happen with my future. It makes me feel like anything could be possible. All I know is what I’m passionate about right now, one of those things is this blog.

I turn 24 next month and it only feels like yesterday that I was a fresh-faced 18 year-old with bright, bleach blonde hair dancing away, with my main worry being about whether all my friends would get into the bar with me when they forgot their IDs. I will not mention names.  These days, I feel there is pressure to save for a mortgage, buy a house, be dating or in a relationship, be in a career, have a degree. And that’s a lot of pressure for one person to have.

I guess the take-home message for me is do what makes you happy. I’m enjoying life at the moment and I don’t think I’ve achieved any of the above. Now that’s not me bashing people who have bought their own homes, that takes discipline and it is impressive, but it’s not everyone’s idea of happiness. People can get too caught up about worrying about how their future will be shaped that they forget to live for the now. Do things that make you feel empowered, passionate and smile. Want to go to that pole dancing class? GO FOR IT. Want to go to see that film no-one else wants to see? DO IT AND TREAT YOURSELF TO AN EXTRA LARGE TANGO ICEBLAST.  Or maybe you just want to sit in and read a good book? THATS FINE TOO, I RECOMMEND KAFKA ON THE SHORE FYI. I think you get my point and I’ll finish with a quote of one of my favourite writers when I was a child, Roald Dahl, “If you have good thoughts, they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely”.

I just love GIFs ok?

Thanks for reading

Lucy x

Fear - The Time Thief

So this is an attempt at a poem although I'm not entirely sure if it counts as one... Nevertheless here we are. I am trying to make some of my posts more upbeat, and what's more uplifting than a poem about superheroes?

Fear - The Time Thief

Fear is the evil villain you see in the movies

It’s the feeling you get when you talk passionately about doing something

But yet, it never happens

Fear is what prevents that tiny spark

From bursting into a fireball

Instead it flickers and struggles to stay ignited

Fear keeps you within your comfort zone

It stunts your growth whilst you grow into a reclusive

Fear itself can be generous when it wants to be

It gives countless excuses and regrets

Whilst, in turn taking opportunities and stealing precious moments

Fear can make you feel like you will live forever

It’s cruel in this way as it snatches your time

And before you know it you’re thinking

Thinking about all those things you didn’t do

But it’s too late now as you hear Fear’s mocking laughter

It doesn’t need to be this way

For like Kryptonite to Superman - Fear also has a weakness

“Fuck It” is its enemy and “Determination” the sidekick

Their motto? “What’s the worst that can happen?”

They work together to fight doubts and battle worry

And with that change in mindset, things become easier

Life becomes more exciting

Opportunities become limitless

People’s opinions mean less to you now

Whilst you become kinder to yourself

And those around you

And so, the adventures begin.

A visual interpretation of Fear

Thanks for reading

Lucy x

It's ok, not to be ok

Where do I start…. So I finally shared my blog properly on Facebook after much encouragement from my nearest and dearest. Although this blog was already public I’d never properly advertised that I had it. It was a scary moment for me, as people would finally be able to read and critique my writing. And made all the more scarier that I write about more personal, sensitive topics. With my “fuck it, let’s see what happens” attitude I have seem to have quickly adopted I posted it to my Facebook profile.

The response I got was quite overwhelming to say the least, I had a few different people message me talking about their experiences and people who thought they knew me well, who were quite shocked as they never even knew that I’d had depression in the past. I guess that just shows how easy it is to cover up.

It did sadden me to think that people do experience depression and anxiety, but don’t really talk to anyone about it and I guess one thing that I’m proud of regarding this blog is that it has got people talking or thinking about it. I have found that so many people just think they have to remain positive and keep up appearances as it were, but it’s so important to be able to talk to someone if you are having a shitty time. And even if you don’t want to speak to someone you know, there are charities out there like the Samaritans.

I was a listening volunteer for Samaritans for a short while, and the training that goes into doing that role is unbelievable. I think a lot of people assume that the Samaritans is for people who are suicidal, which partly it is, but you can still call them if you’re just struggling or feeling down – you don’t have to feel suicidal. They have lots of information and are able to signpost you to other external agencies depending on what the issue is, if needs be. The fastest response you will get is by calling them but you can text, e-mail, post a letter or pop into the Samaritans branch too. I found e-mailing the best option for me as it gave me time to get all my thoughts down in one go.

If you’re lucky enough to have someone you trust and can confide in however, do it. The way I see it, talking about these issues will have a domino effect and more and more people will start to feel more comfortable to talk about them. So, next time if a friend is asking you how you’re doing, its ok to say that you’re not ok!

In my opinion, being “strong” isn’t about who can smile the longest and “grin and bear it” as it were. It’s about the person who is willing to express how they really feel and acknowledge when they are having a tough time and then looks to do something to change it. 

Gossip Girl Appreciation GIF

I just want to say thanks again for everyone’s feedback, regarding this blog. I will be looking to do some more posts on different topics. I’m currently trying to work a DSLR camera (pray for me), so hopefully will be able to get some of my own photos on here too from when I go on my travels, outings etc and also bits of fictional writing I’ve been working on and maybe even some poetry! I’m currently in the early stages of a project that’s ongoing too which I can’t wait to share with you... So many ideas I think I may just implode.

Thanks for reading.

Lucy x

Being real + the reality of depression

I apologise for any rambling that ensues in this post, I’ve had a sudden urge to write, late on a Sunday evening and so here it goes. At the moment, I feel like I am in a really good place. I feel I have lots of energy, like the only way to describe it is like a fire has been ignited inside me. I feel effortlessly positive. I’ve got into the habit of acknowledging what I’m grateful for and I finally feel like I’m starting to find myself. I’m recognising what my values are and who I want to be. Well, I guess it’s who I already am, but it’s actually being able to show everyone that ‘real self’. This can easily be hidden by being the joker or being stupid, which I guess I still do, but I also think that I’ve grown in ways where I recognise I am doing this and can check myself.

I wouldn’t say anything has changed drastically in my life to feel this way. I’ve just changed my mindset and mindset, I have found, is a powerful thing. I’ve had certain things happen as of late, that I really could have let get me down, but having this positive mindset and trying to see the good in everything (not as easy as it sounds at times) has really helped me. It’s brought me opportunities, it’s motivated me and I feel like having this mindset also gives off an energy to other people and can inspire them. It’s all to do with the Law of Attraction, but that’s something I can get into in another post (type it into Google and there are TONS of videos on it). The basic concept is like attracts like. If I’m positive, real and genuine with people, then these are the types of people I will attract into my life. Being real and genuine can be mean different things, to different people. To some people, it may mean saying what you think when you think it and not being two-faced. To me, it means being open and truly honest with yourself and others, by really knowing what your values are and living by them. Not letting people sway or pressure me to do things or think things that may divert me from living to my values. I’m currently working on a plan to really live up to my values and it makes me excited for the future and where I vision myself in a years’ time and even 5-10 years’ time.

The reason I wanted to bring up the reality of depression through my experience is that in earlier posts I don’t feel I really went into detail into how this really felt. Some people may feel sad and say they are depressed, when they aren’t. Although there is a lot of information out these days about depression, and in line with trying to stay real and live up to my values, I wanted to be really honest about how it felt without trying to sensationalise it.

When I think about the time I fell into my depression, it felt like I was a different person. Thinking about it now, I felt like a fly on my bedroom wall watching myself. Once I made the decision to leave university, I came home and stayed in bed for two weeks with the curtains drawn. I don’t think I showered for at least a week in this time. I would lie in bed under the covers, with the TV for background noise. I wouldn’t even pay attention to it (Not even Jeremy Kyle revealing the lie detector results so I could find out if the guy who was accused of sleeping with his sister’s, best friend’s Mum was telling the truth could make me concentrate), I’d just stare into space. My eyes were sore from being tearful and crying a lot of the time. This would come on in waves, and nothing in particular would set it off. I remember my Mum coming in my room, to check if I was ok. She’d bring me drinks, suggest things for me to do and made sure that I had taken the antidepressants I had been prescribed the week before. I would just grunt and say ok, yet not move a muscle.

I feel like it must have been really frustrating for my family to not know what to do to help me. At the time, I may not have shown it, but knowing they were there if I needed them is probably one of the things that helped me out of my depression. My Mum, by nature is a helper and I remember her googling how to help someone who is depressed which showed me that she was desperately trying to understand what I was going through.

My room became a cocoon, and the four walls surrounding me became the end of my comfort zone. I’m trying to really find the right words to describe how it felt just lying in bed for that length of time. I felt like a zombie and numb. It was as if the inner me had shrunken right down to the size of a thimble, and my body was a big, empty shell. One of those prominent memories, that stays with me is when I finally ventured out of my bedroom after a week to force myself to eat. I had eaten barely anything in days and anything I had eaten was forced down me. I lost quite a lot of weight over a very short space of time. This made me feel weaker and further worsened my mood. Any task I did I felt like I was doing in slow motion as it took such effort. Anyway, I decided, whilst everyone was out of the house I would attempt to make myself… spaghetti on toast. Now, this doesn’t sound like a big deal at all, but for someone who was depressed, it was like being told to run up a mountain without stopping. I know this all sounds very dramatic, but this is how depression affected me.

I did successfully make the spaghetti on toast, and tried to make it look presentable on the plate to encourage my appetite. I took two or three mouthfuls, again even chewing my food seemed to take double the time because I was so lethargic and slow. I put the knife and fork down on the plate, and burst out crying. I felt pathetic, I couldn’t even eat a plate of spaghetti on toast. I remember crying so hard at the table, and it even makes me tear up now thinking about it as I just feel so sorry for that person. I wish I could go back and tell myself that it was all going to be ok and that I should be excited for what the future will hold. The food went in the bin and I returned back to the safe place which was my bed. As gross as it sounds, I didn’t wash for at least a week, barely brushed my teeth and trying to get dressed for the day was an impossible task. When you’re depressed, none of that matters anymore, you don’t care about your personal hygiene or how you look, because in my mind at the time, what was the point?

Towards the end of the second week, when the antidepressants started to take effect, I started to see a very small glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. With a lot of encouragement from my Mum, who even offered to wash my hair for me, I took a shower. After being holed up in my room, a shower had never felt so good. I think I still had a cry whilst washing myself, but looking back now, I truly felt this was the start of me coming out of my depression. From then on, I gradually got out of bed more often, I watched some motivational/inspiring videos on YouTube and I also kept a diary of how I was feeling and what I thought about everyday. I still have that diary now, I feel it’s therapeutic to reflect on how far I have come.

So there you have it. If anyone does read this who is going through a depression, I truly mean it when I say that how you feel right now is just temporary and you will get through it. It’s not easy, but it’s so worth it when you do. A good thing about depression (I told you, it’s this positive mindset) is that you experience how it feels inside to hit rock bottom. It gives you the best possible opportunity to work on yourself. I don’t know about other people, but I couldn’t hide behind a mask anymore when I was in the depths of my depression. It’s a raw, profound feeling, but to get through it makes you so much stronger. I think I’m about to burst into song now and start singing Fighter by Christina Aguilera… It wouldn't be a proper blog post if I didn't insert a related GIF now would it?

Thanks for reading.

Lucy x