So this may or may not have been a silly idea to try and juggle with auditions and applications and everything that's going on right now, BUT, it's now May (aka Mental Health Awareness Month) and this week is extra extra special because it's Mental Health Awareness Week 2017!! SO, to help celebrate and mark the occasion, i've decided to try and do a blog post every day this week speaking out about mental health, and why it's so important that we keep talking about it. (As illustrated, for the purposes of this first post, solely by Frozen gifs. Enjoy x)

I think i've blocked out a lot of what happened when I was in hospital when I was younger, but I do remember lying in my bed on the children's ward, all numb and tired from crying over my NG tube pain, and my mum or maybe one of the nurses saying to me that one day, i'd be able to use all this pain for good. She promised.
I didn't really believe it at the time, but that little thought and fire stayed in me and as I got better (and then worse, and then a bit better, and then catastrophically worse etc etc), it's become a fighting force within me and glowed stronger and stronger - some kind of adamant, furious determination that yes my mental illnesses could steal my childhood and my life from me, but there was no way in hell I was going to let all the things I was fighting through stop me from using my experiences to speak out and maybe help someone else. The problem was that I always clung onto the little bit of determination that id be able to do something good 'when I got better', or 'one day' - but nearly 10 years down the line, I was realising fearfully more and more every day that I don't know that that day will ever come. I don't remember my life without mental illness, and in all honesty i'm not sure that I ever see myself living free from it in the future either - so slowly I was realising at the back of my mind that 'one day' was never going to come, or if it did, it might be too late - I was going to have to start trying to turn my experiences into something positive NOW. Whilst they were still attacking me every day. And that's freaking terrifying.

The little push I needed to start came from a guy who is now one of my favourite people in the whole world and possibly one of the most inspirational, talented, and unfailingly lovely people on the planet - and I met him for the first time in the hallway of a small theatre. For those of you who don't know him yet - James Rhodes (this guy!!) is a classical pianist in the coolest, most brave and rockstar-esque way imaginable. He's not only insanely talented, but intersperses his pieces with brilliant, honest, funny and sensitive commentary about his own struggles with mental health and the bizarre, comic and fascinating woes of the composers whose work he features. ANYWAY, after seeing him perform at the Arts Theatre in London on a fluke, I went to one of his further gigs where he was doing a meet and greet afterwards (it was a much tinier venue!). In a nervous bundle of gabble, I said something to him which probably made absolutely no sense about how amazing it was hearing him speak out and how much it resonated with me, because as it turned out we had been in psychiatric hospitals at roughly the same time, and how I was basically just overwhelmed with admiration for him and a lot of other fangirl-y embarrassing stuff like that (probably). James, being utterly lovely, treated me like i'd just said one of the most eloquent and genuine sentences in the english language, gave me a hug, and then looked straight at me and told me in the calmest, loveliest voice to never stop talking.

And that was the 'real' real beginning.

 Talking about the things that hurt you is hard. That little moment with James that encouraged me to start saying fuck it and trying to unashamedly and truthfully speak out about my experiences with mental health was right at the beginning of my 2nd year of uni. The next week, I went to my university's DAMSA (Disabled and Mental Health Students Association) group on a whim, randomly stood up and ran for a place on their committee, and got it. I started trying to go even when my MH was shit, and helped run their Time to Talk day event that year ft many many cakes and brownies (which was how I met Time to Change!!) - By 3rd year i'd become their secretary, run my own Time to Talk day event for the University, started my first mental health blog (www.theoverthinkingblog.wordpress.com) and started sharing campaigns on social media. I still wasn't exclusively stating that I DID suffer from the mental illnesses I was trying to better on Facebook and Twitter, but I wasn't denying it or shying away from it either, and even something that little is a big step when you're sending posts out to a world of people you actually know. It's a hugely vulnerable feeling, but it's empowering too.

Being accepted to be a Time to Change Young Champion is an absolute dream, and one of the best things that could ever possibly have happened to me. Giving my first testimony after all the stress and tears of trying to write it was an amazing feeling - it felt like I was finally doing the thing i'd hoped all along I might be able to one day do - to use my own experiences to help change other people's experiences understanding of mental health for the better. This blog is another part of my 'speaking out' journey, and it's taken me an awfully long time to try and convince myself that I can have a blog where I write both about mental health and about my life in general when my mental health issues just happen to be there too - but i'm finding my way (I think!). Mental Health Awareness Week is a hugely important, inspiring and fiercely brilliant thing which shines a hugely deserved spotlight on all the charities, campaigners, bloggers, companies and people who are trying so hard every day to change the way we think about, perceive and treat mental health issues, but the truth is it should be the same every week. I still doubt myself hugely, and sometimes everything I try to do still feels hopeless and unbelievably shit, but at it's heart speaking out is terrifying, addictive, electric and astonishingly powerful, and the more we do it, the better we can help positively change the future of our mental health for everyone.

The truth is with mental illness that sometimes you can take all your meds, try to think positively about your situation and do absolutely everything you've been told to do, and everything will still just feel completely and utterly awful.

It's a truly rubbish, horrible, debilitating feeling. And the silliest part of it is that your brain then goes into complete overdrive to make you feel as bad as humanely possible about the fact you're struggling in the first place. Ive tried so hard to do things right. I've tried to take care of myself, I've tried to do everything the doctors have asked me to do, so why? Why am I being so ridiculously, infuriatingly useless and selfish when there are millions of people worse off than me? Why can't I cope better, like everyone else? Why am I so awful? Why am I crying over a sock? What the hell is wrong with me???

The other really scary, impossible part about dealing with this feeling, is that sometimes (and frighteningly often), there's just just no warning at all. You just wake up at 4am, and you want to die. You're surrounded by people, coping, and suddenly everything blurs and feels completely alien. My newest favourite analogy for this bit is that bit in Doctor Strange where Ancient One punches Strange's astral form out of his physical form. You're sort of 'there' but you aren't you and you're also completely not there at all. Dissociation is weird  (and sometimes annoyingly difficult to deal with) as fuck. Even if you realise what's happened, you're kind of just staring at yourself blankly, or banging on a soundproof glass door. (I told you right? it's WEIRD). 

The difficult thing is, when this happens - when those days where everything is too much hit, on the weeks and weeks where all you can do is sleep but you're never really sleeping at all, when you try to read and the words wiggle up and down and blur into alien squiggles in front of your eyes, you kind of 'have' to keep going.

I'm 22. I'm not a little girl any more, or 17 anymore, much as I might feel it inside. I'm scared and vulnerable, but I'm also 'grown up'. I have to be responsible for looking after myself, for my mum's benefit, my family's benefit, if nothing else. I cannot put myself back in hospital when my mum is worried sick over my Gran being ill. I cannot retreat into myself and starve myself when I've committed to shows and projects and campaigns that rely completely on me being physically well enough to sustain them without breaking. My body and mind wants to stop everything, but I have to keep going with everything I've got. So what can I do?

The truth is, when things get really really bad, sometimes the suggestions that come under ways to practice self-care just aren't realistic. When everything is completely awful and you're physically struggling to get out of bed because everything about your body feels so heavy and broken, sometimes yoga, or a run, or calling a friend, just isn't going to happen. I've made a little list of 10 (and a bit) things you can try to do (or adapt to what you feel you maybe can try and do), when everything is impossible. These things basically dragged me through my degree by some miracle even when I wanted to disappear. No matter how rubbish things are or how claustrophobic and impossible they get, I hope they might be able to help you too. 

1) Remember that there is no 'right' way to practice self care

The most important thing to remember in all of this is that really really really, you can't 'fail' at self care. No matter what your head tries to tell you, there is no right or wrong way to practice self care, and truthfully it'll be different for everyone, and different even just on different days. Sometimes bedtime yoga and herbal tea to help you sleep is going to help, but sometimes if you're exhausted and all you want is pizza, curling up in a blanket and ordering dominoes is going to help you lots lots more. The point of self care is to listen to what your body and mind needs right here right now, and to be as kind as you can be to yourself in that situation. If that means running until you can't anymore, or curling up with a cup of green tea & honey, or meditating on the things you're grateful for, that's okay. If that means a long cry, spooning your dog and a whole packet of Jaffa cakes, that's okay too. 

2) Try to make your bed

I know. This means getting out of bed - but trust me, even if it's only for a couple of seconds, it's worth it, especially if you've been living in your bed for hours or days. If you can, try to strip your bed and throw all your bedding and PJs in the washing machine with a big scoop of softener. (I know this sounds like the hugest, most impossible task in the world, and in all honesty I have on multiple occasions ended up too exhausted to put the sheets back on, and curled up in a cocoon of my clean, warm bedding on the floor instead, but that's okay too). It might not help fix anything, but it'll maybe help you feel a little tiny better and more human when you climb back into clean, fluffy sheets. 

If washing your bedding is just too unbelievably impossible, try to brush the crumbs off your mattress, shake out your duvet, fluff your pillow. It'll help too I promise.

3) Try to take a shower 

Again, I know, this sometimes seems like such an impossible thing, but the power of a shower to wash off everything that's happening and make you feel a tiny bit more like a human being is invaluable. Sit on the floor if you need too, let the water run over your face (hot or cold), try to wash your hair with proper conditioner, shave if that's something that you prefer to do, use a nice smelling body wash if you have one (don't worry about applying it properly if you're too exhausted, just the smell and idea of washing away everything will help). If showering is too much, wipe over yourself with baby wipes, under your arms, your legs, gently wipe the sleep away from your eyes. Brush or tie up your hair. Try to put on clean pyjamas or clothes that you feel comfortable in. 

4) Water

I'm awful at this when things are bad, partly because of my ED history I think (I hate feeling 'gluggy' or full, of anything) -  but it's so important. Nothing feels as awful as being dizzy & perpetually dehydrated as well as a mess inside. Try to drink a glass of water if you can, maybe warm if that's easier to swallow, and keep one by you to help remind you. (Don't drink the one that's been sitting out on your desk for a week, you deserve better than dust water). If going to the kitchen to get one is too much, or you're too exhausted to keep refilling and things, try to get one of those big 2 litre bottles and keep it in your room next to your bed. This'll help to keep yourself drinking enough and looking after your body's needs without having to face anything or anyone else when things get too hard.

5) Food

This is hard. It's hard when you don't struggle with food as an entity in its own, and I'm ridiculously bad at dealing with this so I feel a little hypocritical and embarrassed saying it, but the truth is our bodies NEED food, even when the only thing you can do is breathe. Cooking proper food can be totally impossible when things get messy, but if you can, try to make sure you keep quick little things and like toast and porridge or soup around (my go-to is always marmite toast and cut up apple). Try make yourself something warm and comforting, even if you spend the rest of the time eating cereal out of the packet. It's stressful and hard I know, but you'll feel better and your body will be super grateful for proper nourishment. I also find sometimes that it's kind of helpful trying to eat tiny things at vaguely proper-ish times, just because it helps break up the day a bit when everything else is so blurry and same-y. You deserve it I promise.

6) Watch something familiar

This is a bit of a cliche one too, but it's safe and it's familiar and those are always good things to surround yourself with when everything is shitty. Some days realistically I can't even actually watch anything - it doesn't penetrate the bubble of numbness I'm in or make me laugh or cry like it should, but especially if you're on your own sometimes the background noise is enough (this helps pass time too). My go to in this scenario is always always friends or Tangled, something easy and that you know so well you don't even have to think about. It might not feel like it's helping, but a bit like music (classical music is amazing therapy too), sometimes it just helps you not to feel so alone.

7) Pets

Pets are the best therapy in the world when they're in the right mood, and sometimes when they're not too. I'm hugely lucky in that I have a goofy dog who loves attention and two cats who happily just sit and purr even from a distance, but sometimes they just are not having it. If you don't have pets or your pet isn't in a 'fussy' mood, try and look at baby animal videos or videos or if you feel up to it, take yourself to your local pet shop and look at all the critters there instead. I highly recommend baby pangolins and otters.

8) Family/Friends

I'm awful at this. No matter how much I try, my automatic and unbearably horrible response to things getting bad is that I just shut off from everyone and everything. I hate myself bitterly for it and it's scary and so frustrating I could cry, but my head just shuts down. The truth is, this is when you need people around you the most, even if you want more than anything to be alone. If it's all too much, try and keep photos of your loved ones on your phone and save texts from your parents siblings and mates etc to look at when you're sad and far away, and maybe try to send one text a day. People care about you, no matter what you do. Even if it's just 2 seconds for a hug, or braving going outside to go for black coffee with your mum (which I've done lots), let people care about you. It's bitterly hard, but the people who love you most really will love you whatever happens. 

9) Sleep

My sleeping pattern is a notorious mess even when things are more 'okay'. I can't get to sleep, or I wake up, or I can't wake up at all, but I'm always always frighteningly exhausted. Sometimes you just get those days where you can't do anything but sleep, and that's okay. You're not being lazy, promise. Your body needs rest and sometimes the best and most caring thing you can do is let yourself sleep. If you can, trying to get a vague sleep pattern in place is good even if you aren't sleeping, again just to regulate time a bit I guess - I find that sleeping with a hot water bottle or microwave hottie helps even when it's not hugely cold outside, just because the warmth is comforting to curl up with. Trying to rest somewhere other than your bed when you aren't sleeping can sometimes help a bit too, just so that you have a bit of a change of scene. It sounds silly and pointless, but sometimes breaking up associations with your bed a bit will help too.

10) Remember how far you've come

You're here. You're still breathing, and even if that's the only thing you've done today, don't let anyone make you feel guilty about it, ever ever. You've survived every single one of your worst days so far, and you know what's even more amazing than that? You can do it again.
Never ever feel bad about trying to be kind to yourself when you need it, no matter what that might mean for you in that moment. Take yourself for a walk if you can (this helps break associations too) and notice tiny things to keep you distracted, or open your window a tiny bit if going outside is too much to bear, just to let some air in. Make yourself a cup of tea or coffee, even if you only cradle it a little bit for warmth and comfort. Remember all the times you've felt like this before, and all the lovely or important or tiny memorable things that have happened since. Try to think of a Disney film or book or favourite thing about winter for every letter of the alphabet (but don't worry about skipping a letter if it's too hard). Know that you're safe and valued and loved. You're fierce, brilliant and astoundingly brave just for existing, and I have so much faith in you. You do deserve to feel happy and looked after, and I'm so infinitely proud of you. 

Xx