Long Time, No See | Life Updates – Mental Health, Aging, School, Etc.

so empty, yet so full

Hello children.

It’s been forever since I last talked, since I last posted. I’m sorry, but here’s why.


I Aged

On the 8th of July, I became older. It feels no different, but it feels very different. It feels weird. I’m now 15, halfway to 30. It feels no different, I am not a different person than I was on the 7th of July, but it’s very different. I’m one year away from being able to drive, three from finishing high school. It all feels very surreal and weird. And yet nothing has changed. I’m the same person I’ve always been, have the same sort of tastes, same issues, same everything, and yet, everything feels so different, so NEW, so weird, and I don’t know why that is. But yes, I turned 15.

I Struggled to Form Words

I’ve always had this issue with my confidence in blogging and forming correct and proper words and sentences to fill the pages of this blog, and it became a little bit harder. It became harder to like the content I was writing, making to put out to the world. Even though it was really not that bad, it was really quite good. But I didn’t like it. I still don’t. But I’m posting it none-the-less. I’m posting the works I’m unsure about, because I’m sick of the 147 drafts in my wordpress drafts folder. I’m sick of not being able to post and form the words I so like. I don’t like this piece of work, but I’m still going to post it, because it needs to be done.

I Went Downhill

In my mental health, that is. Everything got boring, sad, empty. I couldn’t do the things I once enjoyed. Everything turned dark, everything I’d once enjoyed. My art, my writing, it all had underlying suicidal tones. I became more anxious, anxiety attacks became more regular, my sleeping became worse, I stopped taking care of myself. Of my body, my brain. I became bored, the muscle cramps became worse, my music became softer, sadder. It all turned into a mess. My art became art, my schoolwork lowered in standard, I became sick. Sick of myself, of the world, of the people I so love. I began snapping at the people who are always there for me, my friends, the people I consider to be my family. I stopped posting on Instagram, taking pictures, blogging. I stopped bullet journalling, then writing, then journalling – taking notes on my day in the evenings, talking and then finally, drawing. I stopped everything. Stopped taking photos to post on my Instagram, talking to the online friends I’d once communicated with daily, even the friends I knew in reality, I stopped talking to. I hid myself in my mind, pulled back from everything, shrouded myself in sarcasm and my phone. Hid myself away from the world. I stopped going to my counselling sessions, started lying more to people. Lying about what I’d eaten, how I was, how much I slept. I told people I’d slept well when I hadn’t slept at all, told people I was full of energy when all I wanted to do was sleep. I slept at the weirdest moments, fell asleep at school, during breaks, when I got home. It was all for no reason. People asked me how I was doing and I said I was good when really, I didn’t know. I felt calm, but panicky, full of emotion, but empty. I felt sad unless I was with few calming people who made me happy.

I stopped doing everything. I lied. I pretended to be alright, when really, I didn’t know how I was. I’d put a pencil to paper and no words would flow, although the voices in my head were telling me what to write. No thoughts could be put into sentences that made any amount of sense. I paid less attention to the lyrics of songs, just listening to the same four songs on repeat. Sad songs, empty songs, soft songs. Not the fun, happy rock anymore, the slow, sad indie now. I hyper-fixated more than ever. I tidied a closet for six hours, taking everything out and putting it all back again, until it was perfect, not stopping once. Ignoring the people who made me smile, made me laugh. I pretended they weren’t there. And focused on this. Until it was done, until it as perfect. And yet, I couldn’t do that with homework. With reading. I couldn’t do that for any more than 10 minutes without being bored and having my brain give up.

My schoolwork was pushed back, my English and Social Studies grades dropped, fell to low marks from the heightened marks I’d worked so hard to reach. My art work began to be forgotten, the work I’d once done so well on left behind, falling with the rest of things. My fashion work became less focused, fell again. The lines, once so perfect, became messy and fast, done in 15 minutes, rather than the required 3 hours. It all became forgotten. Maths became more of a focus, something I spent hours at a time on, numbers became a calming force. The pages in maths textbooks suddenly filled with numbers, scrawled everywhere in pinks and blues and blacks. And yet, when it came to the test, nothing made sense. The graphing lines were confusing, the words floated around the page. It wasn’t the numbers. The numbers made sense. The words didn’t. The words flew about, became as though a spider had crawled across the page, legs covered in black ink. The letters couldn’t form the words I knew they once had. Nothing made sense. Nothing but the equations. Science became a hobby, yet a bore. The class notes had already been taken, the electricity became boring, repetitive. The out of class conversations became interesting, the old notes and definitions became fun. The formulas became second nature. Yet nothing was fun. It was all boring. All known already.

It all became scary. A deep hole of work, words, confusion. Things not understood, not followed. Because I had differing thoughts to others. I read further into the lines than believed, didn’t use methods the teachers enjoyed. It became confusing. It became upsetting, unbearable.

It’s still like that. Boring, slow. It’s the things I cannot remember. I cannot remember things that happened just yesterday. But I can remember things that happened four years ago. School’s over for the next week, but then everything comes back. And nothing can be correctly understood. But I’ll cope. I’ll remember.

I’ll go back to the counselling. Try to sleep. Stop listening to the voices. I’ll paste the words onto the paper, even when they make not an ounce of sense. I’ll draw the girls I once did. Go back to the books currently laying forgotten on the shelves. I’ll leave the sugar addiction in the past, eat the proper foods. The music will stay the same, calm and quiet, soft and slow. The hyper-fixation will continue. Because those things hurt to stop. The anxiety is too hard to slow. The anger spasms should be able to be stopped. Eventually. With help. With work. Maybe one day there will be no more anger spasms, no more tears shed in futile attempts to sleep at 3AM. Maybe. One day. Not now though.

I’ll pick up the bullet journal, now lost under piles of work. Collect a new one. Find new pens, remove the dead and dying. Forget. Renew everything, start a new. Try again. I’ll collect the empty packets of sour lollies littered about the room, throw them out. I’ll pick up the pens, textbooks, visual diaries and try again. Take as much time as needed to collect the words, form the spider mess into sentences, no matter how much time it takes. Try until the grades are picked up from their current low places.

I’ll start again. Try again. Pick all the issues up. Write them in the journals, capture them in everlasting memories, pin them up, draw them. Capture and create memories. Leave the past where it is now, stop dwelling on the things that scare me.

Maybe that’s ambitious. Too ambitious. But it’s a goal. A dream. A hope. It’s something I can aim towards. I can shoot towards. And maybe not reach, but try to reach. I have the ability to try it until I reach it. Or I’ll give up, set new goals. Try again. I don’t know. It’s worth a try.

My Physical State Became Messy

I became sick. My chest became rattly, they put me on medication. I took x-rays, had blood drawn. I missed a week of school, didn’t get out of bed. Ate nothing but fruit without throwing up for a week and a half. Everything became forgotten. I slept for 20 hours a day, but still woke up tired. I began feeling dizzy, woozy, as if I were about to pass out. I was constantly on medication. I wasn’t alright. But then it got better. I began to be able to walk around without wanting to faint. I started eating real food again. Not have to sleep all day. The medication started working, the x-rays came back clear. I felt better. Became better. Everything went back to its old ways. Everything was normal once again.

I stopped running about a year ago. I stopped workouts about two months ago. My physical state, physical well being became equal with my mental. My weight began fluctuating. My skin became a mess, as did my hair. Everything became forgotten. I didn’t look after myself. I began wearing the same clothes over and over and over. Hoodies and leggings. Day in, day out. My bedroom became messy, and then clean. The processes fell into misery, mayhem, mess. They became repetitive. They still are. Still are like that.

But they’re being picked up. I’ll go for a run, work out again. Wash my face, eat better. I’ll change from the clothes I’m habitually pulling on. Clear up the clutter from the floor. Remake the bed. Maybe. Hopefully. I’ll try.

I Gave Up

I gave up on everything I loved. The people, the creative outlets, the creatures. And yet, I continued to collect them. I found new friends, bought more stationery, collected more plants, found a new rabbit. And then I forgot about them. Gave up on them. Hid myself away with the same people I’ve always been with, left the pens in closed drawers, sat the plants on the windowsill, moved the rabbit from one cage to another. I gave up on the blogs, the lifestyle, the words and pictures. I gave up on the organisation I so loved, the stories the world so loved.

Now, it’s the time I pick that up. The time I choose between the friends, let the ones I can’t have the time for go, leave them to their own devices, fallen into the past, yet still there when they need me, leave them with the other friends they have, tell them I can’t hang with them, return to the people who have always been there. The time to pick up the pens and notebooks, fill them with the doodles and words and numbers that clutter my brain, cover the empty pages in colours, open them up to the thoughts and worlds that are hidden away. Maybe there’s nothing much to do with the plants, change their pots into nicer ones, find shelves, cover the walls with them, let them see the world from a different view. It’s time to give the rabbit more attention, let him sit with me at the desks I work, let him out into the open more often, find better food, more grass for him. Restart the other blog, pick up where I left off with this one. Find new content, new recipes, organisational skills, new poems, words, images. It’s time to forgive the things I’ve once forgotten. Time to start a new.


Now, it’s time to restart. Forgive myself for the things that I’ve never let myself forget. Start a new with everything I’ve always hated, always loved. It’s time to bring you on that journey with me. Enjoy the new.

emily xo

Top 10 Books of All Time | Can You Tell I’m Grasping for Ideas??? But it’s BOOKS!!!

Aloha.

this is the third time I have written out this post and each time it has been different. Let’s see if I can get it to work this time, a full 24 hours after I started writing and this was due up. I actually forgot what I was meant to be writing about and now I have remembered. SO. For today we have a book post because I’m out of ideas, I’m also tired, bored and watching our neighbour cook dinner from my window while talking to my crush. I’m going to be talking about books to take my mind off the fact that I just want someone to snuggle with because I’m cold and tired and I just want a girlfriend. So this is a list of the best books I have read. Ever. Onwards we go.


Six of Crows | Leigh Bardugo

This is the best book ever. I love it so much. It’s fantastic and so amazingly well written and just the best book ever. If you have not read it, please do. I love it and the characters are my children. Just go read it.

Crooked Kingdom | Leigh Bardugo

The sequel to Six of Crows, amazing, fantastic, beautiful, the best things ever. It’s all very gay. One of my best friends and I may or may not be writing a fanfiction on the series. Equally as good as the first one, which is big for a book.

War Storm | Victoria Aveyard

Fantastic, amazing, this is possibly the best way to end this series, I loved it so much. I would highly recommend the entire Red Queen series, but this one was my favourite. It doesn’t make sense without the rest of the series though.

The Art of Being Normal | Lisa Williamson

I have read this about 12 times and have enjoyed it the same amount every time. It’s an absolutely fantastic book that covered transgender rights and issues perfectly. Lisa Williamson has certainly done her research.

The Last Time We Say Goodbye | Cynthia Hand

This was a book that had the ability to have been triggering to me. It wasn’t. It was a beautifully crafted, well written book covering the aftermath of suicides. The entire book was fantastically well written and perfect.

Scarlet | Melissa Meyer

This was my favourite of the entire Lunar Chronicles series. It was so amazing to read and I just loved it so much. Just yes.

Magnus Case and the Ship of the Dead | Rick Riordan

It’s gay, it has a pansexual MC, a genderfluid love interest, death, adventure and goodness. Need I say any more?

The Boy at the Top of the Mountain | John Boyne

This is a super good book that covers a lot of WWII. It’s super good and really beautiful and sad and yes.

Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief | Rick Riordan

The beginning of the Percy Jackson universe. What else do I need to say to persuade you?

Simon vs. The Homo Sapien Agenda | Becky Albertalli

It’s gay. It’s gay. It’s gay. The end of the reason I like this.
But really, it’s super good. I love it.


And that is the end of me being a blanket cocoon, very gay for someone, very cold, tired and bored. I might go to bed now that it’s like,,,11pm. Goodnight.

ALSO! BOOKS! GIVE ME RECOMMENDATIONS, FAVOURITES, ALL THE LIKE. PLEASE. LOVE Y’ALL LOTS.

goodnight children,
emily xo

Anxiety. Anxiety. Anxiety | A Raw Chat

Welcome.

I want to put a trigger warning here to just say that this post may be triggering to some people. It covers very raw subjects and I will not be holding back about what happened to me in this time.

TW: ANXIETY ATTACKS


Let’s cut straight to the chase. The lack of stability in my life currently, led to the biggest anxiety attack I have ever had, last Wednesday. I had an anxiety attack in class last Wednesday that was so bad that the school sent me home and my parents didn’t allow me back the next day. It was really, really bad.

So I don’t know much about what happened that day, Wednesday. What I know so far is as follows:

  • I was in maths and all was fine.
  • I got to my form class and all was fine
  • I began shaking and my heart rate jumped from 86bpm to 110bpm within a few minutes
  • the bell signalling the end of class rung and I ran out of class. By this point, my heart rate was 122bpm and I was shaking so badly I could bearly walk.
  • I met up with a friend and couldn’t speak clearly, I was stuttering
  • within a few minutes, I was full on crying and could bearly make out a word
  • I rang my mother but she didn’t answer so I rung my father and asked him to ring the school and get me a counsellors appointment ASAP
  • he did that and then sent me to the school office and told me he’d pick me up in 30 minutes
  • I don’t know anything after that. He picked me up and I wrote out the first 100 Fibonacci numbers. I was full on shaking and my heart rate reached 177bpm at some point.

I don’t know anything else. I don’t know what happened in those 30 minutes, I really don’t. I got home sometime later and talked to a friend for a while. What happened after that was fine and there wasn’t really an issue. It took me until 7pm to get my heart rate down to about 90bpm. This anxiety attack happened at about 10am.


Okay, so we have the basics down. I had an anxiety attack. I got taken home from school. Now we proceed onto a few things I have in my brain right now and just want to get out.

Why did this happen? What caused it? Was there a certain trigger? How did I not pick up on it? How come only one person in my class picked up on it? Why wasn’t I able to control it? Is there someone who can help me with this? Is there a way that I can help myself with this? Will it happen again? What will happen if it happens again? Will it be worse next time?

I want to very quickly run through answers to those questions.

It happened because of a whole bunch of instability in my life. It was triggered by people who have hurt me and are continuing to do so. I didn’t pick up on it because I thought it was fine. That one person picked up on it because she cares and she may be the only one. I wasn’t able to control it because I thought I had it under control. I thought I wasn’t going to have anxiety attacks again. There is someone who can help me, but they’re not the school counsellor, that’s for sure. I don’t know how I can help myself yet.
The last three questions are scaring me. Because I don’t know the answers. I don’t know any of that.


If it happens again, my guess is that it will be worse. If I have a panic attack, a mental breakdown, that bad again, it will be worse than this one. I know it. Even though it hasn’t happened and no one’s told me that.
If this happens again, and I know it will, I know it will happen again, I don’t know what will happen. All I know is the consequences of it, next time, could be fatal. Possibly. What will happen next time this happens is not going to be good. At all. For anyone. It may end it me doing something dumb, a spur of the moment thing, and doing something to hurt myself. And the consequences of that could be fatal. Because with my levels of depression, anything could happen. I know what’s happened in the past, what almost happened last time, I know that if it gets worse, things could happen. And they wouldn’t be good.

If I knew how to deal with it, I would. But I can’t, Not now at least. I have no stability at the moment. I have no stable friendships, no stable goals, no stable life. Okay, this is going to sound real dumb, but I kinda wanna date someone who will just keep me grounded. So I can say that I have a stable friendship, so I have someone who I can just go ‘OMG you’re here, it’s okay. I’m okay’ because that’s what happened last year when I dated someone. I Felt like I had a grounding. Someone to ground me. So if any of y’all wanna come out of the closet and agree to date me, that’d be wonderful! (in all seriousness, I really just want someone to be able to do that around, partner or not, I just want someone like that. BUT THAT’S UNLIKELY TO HAPPEN!!!)

look, we all know it, when i’m in a really bad headspace, i can’t say anything serious. it’s an issue.


So I don’t really know. This was really confusing but I think it was just me chatting about everything and getting it all off my chest. As well as asking someone to date me! Or pretend to date me! Or just be there for me when I need them! But none of that’s going to happen, so that’s okay!

Yes. I had my biggest ever anxiety attack last week and would like to use that as my excuse for not having posted for the last while. I have also been keeping no food in my system, dealt with severe stomach cramps and pains whenever I’ve eaten, haven’t been exercising, have been listening to real depressing music and have been sleeping an average of 3 hours a night. I have no routine to my life! But that’s fine and I’m doing great!

I don’t know what to say here! Comment something if you want, or don’t. You do you boo. It’s all up to you!

peace out ma dudes!
emily xo

Wishes, Hopes and Dreams | Being Egotistical and Telling Y’all What I Want

Hello

I’m in a bad space currently. I’ve had to break off several friendships, become depressed, had three anxiety attacks since Sunday and cried for 3 hours today. My head hurts, my legs hurt, my back hurts, my eyes hurt and I just plain damn hurt all over.
But I’m fine. I’m doing okay. I’m doing homework. Which is calming for unknown reasons. I actually enjoy doing it. Odd me.

So today I am going to be very self-centred and tell you exactly what I want. For myself. And no one else. And no world. This is all for me. Because I feel bad and this might cheer me up a little.

Also, I apologise for the lack of blog posts, I put that down to school, people and bad mental health. But I kinda want to get back into posting. So I’m gonna try and we’ll see what happens!

Please note that the majority of these things will not be able to be done and I know this. But we need hopes and dreams to keep us alive. These are things that will not happen without a lot of planning and practise and work that I will have to put in over a long period of time.

Let’s get going and get this over with.


  • I want the close friendships that I spend forever working on back.
    I worked really hard last year to make friends with a bunch of people and by the end of the year I had some friendships that I thought were strong. With amazing people. And then a whole bunch of stuff went down and I lost them. The majority of the friendships I have now are online, even though I go to school with these people and meet up with them daily for five minutes to give them a hug before we have to part ways.
    I lost the majority of these friendships by removing myself from toxic friendships with people who I also once considered close friends.
    I’ll do a post entirely on this at some point, on losing close friends.
  • I want the people I used to be so close to back in my life.
    These people aren’t the people from above, the people I go to school with and that sort of stuff. No. I’m talking the people who I only have contact with via my blog and – on occasion – email. There are a couple of people who I really, really, really just want to hang out with again. And just talk about random stuff. Because those people are so freaking amazing and I miss them so much. Those are the people who I have had the strongest, longest friendships with.
    You know who you are. And please know that I miss you so much it ain’t even funny.
  • I want to be able to keep two on my bunnies, rather than just one, when we move.
    This is a crazy one on here. But when we move, we have to get rid of all our animals. We can only keep a few – cats, a dog, a rabbit, budgies. This means that I have to get rid of the majority of my rabbits. I have been given permission to keep one. And there are six. There are two young rabbits that I love so much and I don’t want to have to choose between the two of them, but I know I have to, because there isn’t enough space at the place we’re moving for two rabbits. And I hate that. I hate getting rid of the rabbits.
    But I have to choose one. And I want to choose them both.
  • I want to move our land closer to town with the house we’ve bought and the garden on it.
    That makes no sense. Pretty much what I mean is this:
    I want to take the land we currently have, put the house we’re moving into on it, and move it all closer to town. I want that. Because that would be perfect. We would have the land and therefore the animals, we would have the big house that we’ve bought, the nice house, and we’d be close to town, so we didn’t have to drive as far as we do every morning. I know that that is absolutely impossible, but I wish it were possible. Because I don’t want to do this.
    I’ve got a moving post ready and it’ll be up in a few days and that will clarify all of this for you.
  • I want to remove all my mental illnesses and other ‘issues’.
    I want to take away the anxiety, the depression, the anger, the anorexia, the body dysphoria, the gender dysphoria, the gender identity issues, all of that. I want it to be gone. And I know that can’t happen without a whole lot of things happening first. But I wish it could. Because those things hurt like hell.
    I know that there are things I can do to help with those things, but they’re going to take time, or I’m going to have to become ‘stronger’ and tell my parents about my gender issues, about the fact that I do hate my chest, that I am not a girl, all of that. But I can’t bring myself to. They get the pronouns, but they don’t get the gender neutralism. The fact that I’m not their daughter.
    But we’re getting there. Slowly.
  • I want to have the money to buy my friends everything they so deserve.
    My friends, the ones who have stuck with me for freaking ever, through all the drama, through splitting apart, through only having online contact and very little IRL communication, deserve the world. I want to be able to give them everything they deserve. To remove all their issues, because they’ve helped me so much.
    But I don’t have that money. Yet. I will. One day. And then they’ll get what they deserve. Then they’ll understand how much they mean to me. Because – and I’ve said this a whole lot – they deserve everything they can get.
  • I want to meet my online friends.
    Because those people are so amazing. And I love them so much. There are very few people who I’m super close to online, but I want more online friends, and I want to meet the ones I have. Because that would be amazing.
    But money’s an issue, as is being halfway across the world.
    But one day I’ll get there. One day I’ll meet them. Because I need to do that. These people mean so much to me, and I want to see them and tell them that IRL.
  • I want a ferret.
    You can’t have ferrets in New Zealand. But I want a ferret. I don’t know why, I just do. I just want a ferret. I don’t care what they do, what they hurt, I want a ferret. They’re so adorable and I need one. If it involves moving halfway across the world, I’ll do it. I just want the ferret. Now. Please. Someone send me a ferret. I would love you forever.
  • Tell me those are not the most adorable creatures in the entire universe. I love them so much. And I want them. So badly.
  • I want to be old enough to get tattoos.
    I want tattoos so badly. I want to be able to do the things I have always wanted. As an artist, I personally see my body as a kind of canvas, ready to be turned into a piece of art. And it’s blank at the moment. I want to pierce it more than it already is, I want to draw on it, permanently. I want to be able to put on my body the fact that I’ve survived. That I’ve been through struggles, with my mental health, with my image, with everything, and I’ve got through. That is something so serious to me. I want it to happen. Soon.
    I have ideas for tattoos, I have designs and all of that, but I’m not old enough. It’s a year until I can legally get a tattoo, and then I’d have to find a way to hide it under my uniform. And it’s the same with piercings, I can get several, I just can’t show them.
    So we wait. We wait and we wait and we wait. And we give ourselves something to stay alive for. A tattoo.
  • I want all the drama going on in my life, to be over.
    All the friendship drama, all the school drama, all the family drama, all the drama with the house, I want it all to be gone. I want to take a pill, and remove it all. And make it disappear. Because I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being the focal point of all the drama, the one who it all centres around. Because it does always seem to be me who the drama centres around. And that really gets to me. It really gets to me.
    I get sent all the information. I get told everything. And I’m stuck in the middle of all the dramas that I wasn’t involved in in the first place.
    Or I’m the drama. I’ve removed something or someone from my life, and that’s backfired. That happens too. And I’m stuck in the middle of the drama, having a panic attack.
  • And lastly, I want my schoolwork to go well.
    This is doable. We’ll end on somewhat of a high. I can do this. I can do well on my schoolwork. It will take dedication, but I can do it. I know I can. And I like that. I like that a lot.
    I can do well in school, in class, I’m calm. Everything disappears and it’s just me and my head and the paper and the pen and the teacher. Especially in art, fashion and maths. And sometimes science. When I can see the numbers and the patterns and it all makes sense. Then, none of the dramas can get me, in schoolwork, I’m safe. That’s probably weird, but schoolwork has no drama.
    I can bury myself in my schoolwork to remove myself from the outside world and get good grades. I can do well.

And that’s the end. I hope you enjoyed all of this. All of me being self-centred and talking about the things I can’t have but really want. It was fun to write.

Leave your wishes in the comments below, those things are always fun to do! And this is a great point for you to just get things off your chest, like I have. This wasn’t meant to be a rant, but it is a rant. And that’s fine.

peace out ma dudes!
emily

A Fear of Leaving? | Moving On

Hi peoples.

That started really morbid, but that’s okay. This post is going to be really morbid and reminiscent.

So so so. If you didn’t already know (and I really wouldn’t expect you to unless you a. follow my Instagram and actually read my captions, b. read every single tiny thing in this post or c. are one of my like, very close friends who I rant to) we are trying to sell the house. Sell the house and move closer to school and work.
This post is going to be about a whole lot of things that I’m thinking about this entire moving thing. It’s pretty much going to be me being kinda sad about it all. I don’t know why, but I feel sad and I’ll cover all that in the post.

Pretty much this post is going to be split in half and I might will do another post on pros and cons and maybe something else. I might to a bunch of moving blog posts, I don’t know now. But we’re starting with this. Half of it’s going to be me being super sad and hating stuff and the other little tiny bit is going to be thinking about positives. If there are any. Let’s go.

editing me: screw that there’s no happiness in this. it’s all sad and morbid. you’ve been warned


As a super quick start thing, we moved up here in 2012 when I was 8 from our house in Christchurch where I had been living for all but one month of my life. We were on a small piece of land there and lived in a smallish village with people close and a small amount of land, chickens, some animals and a huge vege garden.
We moved up here to the North Island on idk the date, I’ll edit this and insert it here (the date was 12 November 2012) when I was 8 and my sisters were almost 1 and 3. We now live with a whole bunch of animals (we’re talking rabbits, budgies, chickens, cows, alpaca, sheep, goats, pigs, calves, cats and dogs) and lots of land and some kinda vege gardens in the middle of fricking nowhere.
That’s just what the house and shit where we are now is like versus the place we use to live. Pros and cons of both, obviously. But this ain’t about all that, this is about moving from here, to somewhere new. And my thoughts. Clearly.

Super quickly, we’re painting the house to try to get more money and sell it better? If that made sense. We’re also not moving heaps, just 1-2 hours away from where we currently are. Let’s go.


So I was in my room for most of the day today and went out to feed rabbits, shower and get some food before about 1. Then I came back in and did more stuff and people went out and I was asked to put away some dishes. Which I did at 5pm. So at 5pm I left my room and walked down the corridor and into the dining room before turning to go into the kitchen and stopping. And I cried. I’m not going to lie here, I stopped and turned into the kitchen and just stopped walking and cried. Which is not unusual for me, I cry all the time, but usually because I’m depressed (which, surprise, I am because I’d been being nostalgic and people are being shitty currently) or anxious (which I also am) but those are not the reasons I cried then. I cried because I looked at the kitchen and it was almost empty. There was nothing of the walls and it just looked so empty. There were all the appliances and utensils and stuff still there, but it was empty. There was no noticeboard, no cookbook-shelf, no little coffee sign. There were no bottles on the cupboards and fridge, no people, no books, no curtains. There was nothing but the things that had to be there, the cutlery and utensils, the plates and bowls and a few things on the benches. The knife racks had been taken down, the appliances had been pulled away from the walls. Everything had moved and it made me cry. I was so saddened by its emptiness and I didn’t know what to do.

I literally walked into the kitchen and just walked around. And I didn’t know why. I was just watching everything, looking at everything. Noticing every little thing that was missing. All the books and stuff. There was NOTHING that made it our kitchen. And I was broken. For no particular reason other than that. It didn’t look like our kitchen. Sure, the walls were still there, our appliances were still there, our fridges, our cupboards, but anyone could have had those things. The things that made the kitchen ours weren’t there. The little notes and pictures on the noticeboard, the little coffee sign, the books with their little scribbles in the margins, the bottles and torch and jars that cluttered the tops of things and annoyed me. It may have annoyed me how cluttered everything was, but I think the big thing I want to say here, was that it was ours. It was very unique, very special, very clearly ours with all that stuff there. And without it, it didn’t seem ours.

I don;t know what’s going to happen after the kitchen is painted, I don’t know whether we’re going to be putting everything back up or not. I don’t know whether all of the things that made it mine are going to be back or if they’re just going to stay down. But we’re painting it. We’re taking away the ugly, old, off-white colour of the walls and ceiling and we’re replacing it with bright white and mushroom. And that’s big That doesn’t make it mine. Even empty like it is now, the kitchen still has those colours that make it mine. But with what’s happening with it, with the colours, it’s not going to be my kitchen. Even with all the things back in it. It’s just going to be a kitchen.

The kitchen is going to remind me whenever I look at it, that we’re moving. That we’re leaving here, the place I’ve learnt to call home.

We repainted the dining room a while ago, repainted the bathroom and the hallway. That was before we were moving. Before we had decided to put the house on the market. And I loved the new looks then, I still do, but I can’t help but think now, about the old colours. About the old bathroom. About the awful orange and white dining room and the pink frieze around the hallway. I can’t help but think about all of those things and think about what they are now. The creams and the mushrooms and the whites. And I love them as they are, but it makes me sad. Because I was here for 6 years and those were all like that. As horrible as they were, they made this place home for me. The foot mark on the mirror in the bathroom that I looked over to wash my face twice a day, it’s gone now. Everything like that is gone.

And then there’s my personal stuff. I spent a week decluttering and tidying out my room. Removing a whole bunch of the things I didn’t need anymore. All the things that were too annoying, took up too much space. They all went. And I cried. I cried a lot during that time. Finding things that old friends had given me, going through my camera and finding pictures from years ago when I had different friends, friends who I haven’t spoken to in a year, in two years, three. And then there were photos of people who I was friends with last year but am not now. And those hurt me, Everything hurt me. Clearing out my camera log, my laptop, my phone. Clearing out my old schoolbooks even made me sad. I found pictures of a young me. A me from years ago. And I cried over them too. I cried over the pictures of me when I could fit clothes I now can’t, pictures of me with animals I’ve lost, Friends and family I’ve lost. And it was hard.
I threw away things I’d been given years ago, found old phone numbers, email addresses of people who had promised to contact me, who I’d promised to contact, but never had. And I threw them all out. I threw out bags upon bags of fabric that had been under my desk for months, yarn that I’d had for years. I threw out, took apart, things that I’d worked hard on last year, the year before, because they took up a whole bunch of space and didn’t need to.

And it hit home for me really this afternoon when I walked into the kitchen. It all hit home. This wasn’t going to be home for much longer. I was going to have to call somewhere else home. Because this would no longer be it. And that’s hard for me.

It took me a while to call this place home, because I was so used to the place we used to live being home. For me, as a young child, I didn’t understand it fully, didn’t understand that this was now home, this was now the place that I had to call home. Because it was. But I was young, I didn’t really think about all that, I didn’t really think about this place not being home. It took a while to grip that concept, but this place was home soon enough. Now I’m older, I’m 15 in 6 months time, I’m going into my second year of highschool, I’ve finished primary school, I’ve been to two different primary schools and have been homeschooled for a year. I’ve been here for 6 years and to me it’s more of my life than in Christchurch. Yes, in time I was there for longer than I’ve been here, but I wasn’t able to remember a whole lot of that. I can remember little things, I still wake up at 3am and draw my old schools, yes, I still recall all my old friends names, the street names, my old phone number, but I don’t remember a lot of the things that went on down there. I was too young. But I’ve been here for a lot of, most of, the age where I am able to remember things, to create core memories. Being up here is what has really shaped who I am. And I’m leaving that. I don’t know what makes that so difficult to comprehend, but it is hard to comprehend.

I think that for me, moving is going to be hard. Having to call a new place ‘home’ when this has been home for most of my memorable life is going to be difficult. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to have to ability to call somewhere else home, but I know it’s not going to be fast, it’s not going to be easy.

For me, a huge thing about moving is that we’re not moving to somewhere like here. We’re not moving from the middle of fricking nowhere to the middle of fricking nowhere but closer to school, we’re moving from the middle of fricking nowhere to somewhere. To a centre. To somewhere close to a town, a city. We’re moving away from somewhere where you can walk for 10 minutes and get to a place where you cannot see any civilisation to somewhere where we’ll be close to civilisation. Which is hard.
We’ll be moving from somewhere with animals and space and open air to somewhere where we may not have land, may not have animals, may be surrounded on all sides by houses and people. We’re going to have to give up the majority of our animals, our sheep and calves that we’ve raised from 2 days old, since birth in some cases, we’re going to have to get rid of the cows who have become our family, the alpaca who was a gift for my sister. We’re going to have to possibly get rid of the rabbits, my babies for the last 5 years even though the actual animal has changed, the animal has stayed the same. We may have to give up more, maybe the chickens, maybe others, I don’t know, I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know how much of an impact this is going to have on me. Not being able to walk out and go down to the creek, walking the paths I cantered up on the horses, I’m not going to be able to go and sit by the resting spot of my horse and just talk to her like I did when she was alive. I’m not going to be able to do that. I’m not going to be able to walk to the top of the hill and scream and have no one hear me. To stand there and just be for hours on end until I’m cold and windblown. That’s not going to be able to happen. There’s not going to be the nature.

I’ve been walking with the dog for the past few nights, just up and down the hills a few times, just walkking for an hour or so, just walking. And it’s been nice. It’s been really nice. But I walk and then I get back home and remember that that is going to be something that this time next year, I may not be doing. Because we probably won’t be here next year. And that hurts It hurts to say that, write that,

Okay, I’m full out crying now. Great. Anyway, continuing.

I talked to Mum a few days ago, a week or so ago, and I said that I probably wouldn’t be able to have a birthday party this year because none of my friends really need to drive all the way out here to say happy birthday when I can go out with a couple of them on the last day of school as a birthday thing. But then Mum said that we probably wouldn’t be here by then. By July. And that hit home. It hit me so hard that we probably wouldn’t get to be here for my 15th birthday. and that’s scary. Because I love this place and I would really like to have that one last birthday here, whether I have friends here or not, I want to be here. Because this is home. And I don’t want to have my birthday anywhere but home. I don’t care if my friends can’t be here, I like private, quiet birthdays and 15 isn’t that big, but I want to be here. Here. Where home is. Not somewhere that isn’t home. That isn’t a place I know. I don’t want that.


It’s late now and I’m full out sobbing and struggling to write now, so I might just stop, but I needed to get that out, out of my system because it’s really hard for me to deal with and I want others to know it. I don’t know why, but that’s what this blog is for. So yes. Thank you if you read through this full thing and I’m sorry it ended so abruptly but I actually couldn’t write anything else and this is meant to be up in 5 minutes and I’ve gotta do graphics, editing and tags so we’ll see how that goes.

I’ll continue to update you on how this house selling shit goes, but thanks again for reading this.

editing me: it’s 11:18pm and i’m done. this was meant to be up at 11 but oh well, it’ll get up!

see you in the next post!
emily xo

Reminiscing on the Past | A New Project?????

I really don’t have any clue how to intro this, so this ought to be fun.

I live a lot in the past, I base a lot of my life around the past. My past has created who I am now, it has hurt and healed me and I think that it’s pretty important. This past month I have thought a lot about the past and all the old memories. My name holds a lot of memories, which I think is one of the main reasons I’ve been thinking about the past, I don’t want to lose those memories if I change my name. I think that would hurt a lot. But some of those past memories aren’t the flashest either. But thinking about all that has called up a lot of memories and I’ve had some ideas.

For December I want to do a project. A blogging project. I want to post about three times a week and one of those posts I want to be about reminiscing. At least one. Maybe two, we’ll just see what happens. I want to redo things and see what’s changed since I did them originally.

I’m thinking things like rewriting stories I wrote in year 6-7 (2/3 years ago), I’m thinking rereading childhood books, rewriting my first blog post, things like looking back through my past and coming up with things that have made me, me. The things that have created me. I had a lot of fun redoing the three songs tag the other day and seeing how I’d changed, and I want to do that again. I found a few stories with A today in Science class, stories I wrote as a 10/11 year old child and they’re cringy but so different from what I’m writing now. It’s sad but happy.

I think that the past is what shapes us, the past is what shapes our futures. Out pasts are what makes us, us. Our pasts are something we need but shouldn’t dwell on, and I do that, I live a lot in the past as a consequence of my anxiety, the anxiety feeds off the past, my past mistakes and my memories. This coming month marks a year since my gran’s death, my first year of high school comes to a close and it marks the end of my first year being open about stuff. It marks the end of another year, another year will have passed in 31 days. We have 31 days left of this year, we have 31 days left to complete our goals. And that scares me. I feel that this year has passed and I’ve wasted it. I don’t feel I have done anything productive, I haven’t completed the majority of my goals. But that’s okay.

I want to do this project/series and make it positive, I want to be able to reflect on who I was, who I am, how I’ve changed over the years. I want to see if I can place the things that have shaped me as a person alongside the things that have caused me to be as mentally unstable as I am now. I want to be able to reflect on who I am, I want to do this now and be able to come up with ways of improving who I am for next year. I want to be my best me next year. I think that’s really important.

I want to do this for myself, to be able to laugh at who I was and what I did when I was young. I need to get out of the past and I know this is all about being in the past but maybe it’ll help me. Maybe.

So this was a complete mess and I have no clue what it was, but that’s okay. So this is the end, can I get some opinions down in the comments please? I’m also going to be doing a month of Christmas posts so get ready for that!!!

see you in the next post!

emily xo

Wow, I’m a Mess |This Post is a Mess

Well, I am a huge mess. This past week has NOT been good. Has NOT been fun. But hey, life is a mess.

Today I have done nothing productive other than putting a load of washing on (10 minutes or so ago), going for a run, posted some Instagram photos on ALL my accounts and written this. Which is great. Not. I have also watched a lot of Voltron and Dodie videos, played Solitaire in solitude a lot, ridden this morning for an hour and a half and had a whole bunch of stomach cramps.

So today life is not good. But today is a lot better than it has been since probably this time two weeks ago. My life is an awful mess. My room is a complete mess, my hair has not been brushed in about two weeks, my hair is greasy and needs a wash, my clothes are in a pile on the floor in a huge mess, my skincare routine is completely out of whack and my social life…ha, what’s that?! Yeah, I’m not having fun at the moment.

Okay, my life is a mess, but that’s okay. It is okay for me to be depressed, to be anxious, to be a mess. And this is something that I’m only just coming to discover. Sometimes it’s okay just to cry. I spent an hour in the counsellor’s office on Friday, cried for at least half an hour to a friend and then went home and cried for a very long time. Until about 3 in the morning to be entirely honest. (okay, Grammarly, please sort out how ‘counsellors’ is spelt.)

At the moment I also feel very, very not here. As in I am not here. As in I’m not actually doing anything. I am struggling to feel things, to see things clearly, to hear things clearly and everything like that. and that heightens my depression.

I got through five of my exams last week with huge dramas hiding in my head. Very sad, bad dramas with friends and family and mental work. I have more exams this coming week and don’t actually want to do them. I really don’t want to go and do the rest of these exams. But they’re kind of important.

So on Monday I went and booked a counsellor appointment with the school counsellor who I’ve seen a couple of times before and she said she’d give me an appointment for this week. Then my dad rung her and she brought it forward to last Friday. So I went and saw the counsellor and cried for an hour. Before that, I had spent the entirety of my break crying. You see, I had tried a lot to be alone. I sat in a different place than usual, held a sketchbook and tried to let the world ignore me. Unfortunately, I have a friend who came and asked me why. And then I ended up crying and telling her all the shit that was going on in my life.

But the counsellor was good. I walked in crying and shaking and she sat me down, gave me tissues and told me to tell her what I was feeling. And I said nothing. Because I really didn’t know. Because I felt empty. Because I felt like nothing. In all honesty.

There’s another issue too. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON. I DO NOT KNOW WHY I AM DoING THIS. AND HECK, THAT’S AN ISSUE. I’m up until 3am crying because of it. Because I feel so empty. I am a shitty nightmare.

So now I’m seeing a counsellor at least twice a week until this sorts itself out and if it doesn’t then stuff will happen and I’m not sure what it will be. Another counsellor maybe? Medical support? I really don’t know. But we’re not there yet so we don’t know what’s going to happen.

Oh, another thing, how did I get to this point and why? Yeah, good questions. How? I got stressed, stopped exercising regularly, let my routines go to shit, my life became disorganised and I stopped caring about my wellbeing. I started studying too much and caring solely about that. And what caused it? A whole combination of things. As I have mentioned a couple of times before, I had a big load of sad news delivered to me about a week ago, there’s also a friend drama at school that I am not involved in, but I sort of get all the shit about it and we had exams. Mood swings and this thing where I feel empty don’t help either. And I guess dysphoria and dysmorphia don’t help one bit. OH! And I feed off others energy and I spend time with either depressed people or people who comfort the depressed people and therefore I do not have very much positive energy. So???

And to help this depressive, anxious episode, I’m going to keep talking to the counsellor and gonna try and practise some self-care to let myself just relax and get used to my own life. I’m also just going to learn to deal with the depression and anxiety and I’m going to learn to accept them. Oh, and I might recut my hair and shit like that. So I guess that’s the end?!

see you in the next post!

emily xo

A Real Story Chapter  |  I’m Scared  |  How To Study

I’m Scared

Okay, I’ve been putting this post off for a while now, always afraid of the backlash it would have. But now this whole thing has reached breaking point and I’m writing about it. Being transgender in this current day and age is scary. Let’s just start with that.

Everywhere I look at the moment I am bombarded with this whole scary reality. The reality that my identity is slowly being erased. I log into Instagram and am hit with the latest news about Trump’s policy on transgender rights. And every time I see it, I break down crying because it is too scary. I live on the other side of the world. I have no real reason to be scared. But I am. Because America is the country leading the world. And America is the trendsetter, anything America does, the rest of the world follows in it’s footsteps. America begins something and in weeks it’s around the whole world. This one policy, it impacts us all. Everywhere. And that is what scares me.

It scares me that the world is trying to erase me from existence. There was an incident in class the other day when someone wrote a story and used they/them pronouns and was told that they had to change them to get the highest grade. That the usage of those pronouns was the only thing that had taken their mark down. Our English teacher told them this. The same English teacher who heard me give a second speech in which I said that my gender changed but I used they/them pronouns for ease. I felt so erased in that class. I felt like I wasn’t real. I felt as though the world didn’t accept me for who I am. The world doesn’t accept me for who I am. And that is what scares me.

It scares me that my own community often doesn’t believe in any genders other than male, female and nonbinary. That my community does not believe in agender or genderfluid. The community that I have always looked to for support. It now is not supporting me for who I am. The community I have always felt at home in now does not accept me for who I am. And that is what scares me.

I came out without really saying anything in class the other day and my class is the only bunch of people who really accept me. They’re the only people who give me a hug when I need one, who ask me what pronouns I’m using, who make me laugh when all I want to do is cry. My class has been trying to rename me jokingly and it makes me so happy to know that I’m accepted by some people.

But then I get out of school and am shocked back into reality when I open Instagram and see that yet another transgender woman has been shot dead. That another policy has been passed allowing schools to expel students for being gay (congrats Australia. well done). When I see this I can do nothing but cry. Because I am being forced out of the world. My identity is being seen by everyone around me in the online world as fake. It’s being seen as a cry for attention. And that’s not it. And that is what scares me.

I didn’t think there were any tears left. But I was wrong. When I opened Instagram after just an hour, two hours off it and saw when I opened the first story that yet another woman had died, I cried. Again. And I cried for another full hour. Because so much is going on. And it hurts me. It hurts my community. But I don’t want to be a part of that community anymore. Because that’s hurting me too. They/them/their pronouns are not seen as valid by our world. Not having a gender is not seen as valid by our world. And that is what scares me.

The fact that I can sit in my bedroom for hours and not know what I can do scares me. The fact that I can see the pain on my friends faces when I look at them, when there are three of us crying because we’re being erased and there’s nothing we can to scares me. The fact that I can open my YouTube and be hit with this transgender stuff scares me. The fact that I can no longer use my social media platforms, this, my Instagram, YouTube, any other platforms I’m on scares me.

I want to curl up into a ball and let everything go. I want to let go of the pain I feel because of what the world is trying to do to me. I want to stop feeling what I am now. I want all this stuff about being transgender not being real to stop. I want to stop looking at Instagram and seeing people call transgender a mental illness. Because it’s not. And that statement hurts. It hurts so much. I want to stop having to force myself to come out of the library and go talk to people at breaks. I want to stop feeling so sick I can’t eat. I want to stop crying so, so much. But currently, I can’t.

Wow, I’m crying and so that’s all I’m going to say for now.

see you in the next post!

emily xo

How To Study  |  Most Likely To  |  Talking To My Younger Self

Talking to My Younger Self

Wow, this is new. But I’m revealing myself even more than usual. So let us do it. And this is me, younger:

IMG_2015
wow i was cute

Dear Young Emily,

Sweetie, where to start? This whole thing is new to me, but I think that it’s important to say. So I’ll just get right into it.

You probably wouldn’t recognise me now, dark haired and tall. But I promise you, I am you. I am what you will turn into.

Ems, life is going to get bad. Life is not going to be perfect. Life is not going to be amazing. It will get awful and hurt and will be painful and you will not be happy the whole tie. But it will get better. Don’t lie to the doctors, don’t lie to the therapists. You can manipulate them into thinking that you are fine, but they are there to help you. If you leave it and let them believe that you, faking, are fine, everything will just get worse. If you lie to them about the anxiety then they will believe you because they don’t have a reason not to. But when you do that, the anxiety just increases. And when you lie to them about the amounts you eat, then they think you have something wrong with you, something causing you to lose the amounts of weight you are, as fast as you are. And that’s not good. Don’t hurt yourself, don’t bash your head on trees just to see if you can get it to bleed and then lie about what happened. It’s manipulative and you’re good at that, good at lying, manipulating people, but it’s not good.

Don’t go pushing yourself too much. Don’t go around with the mindset that you have to win. You want to win, winning is great, but you can’t always win everything. There are wins and losses in life. Both are good. Just remember that, you can lose. Winning is not worth losing your hearing for. Winning is not worth the numbers of doctors appointments and blood tests and fake tears shed, real tears shed, winning is not worth the pain of losing your hearing. It’s great, but not that important.

Em, don’t be afraid to come out as who you are. Don’t be afraid to say that you have a crush on a girl. Don’t be afraid to talk about the fact that sometimes you’re a boy. It’s easier for everyone if you cover it earlier. Your parents will support you. They will listen and they will try to understand even if it is hard for them. They will try to make things easier for you. That’s what they’re there for and even if it is hard, don’t worry about what they will think. Don’t panic and cry for hours when you tell them. It’s not worth it. In reality they will always love you for who you are.

Don’t mix with the toxic people, don’t feel that in order to be liked you have to be popular and hang out with people you don’t like. You don’t have to do that. People will like you for you, not who you hang with. And if the people you mix with become toxic, let them go. There will always be someone else there. And it may seem hard, but someone will be able to pick you up from where you are, fallen on the ground. It’s okay to fluctuate between friends and friend groups. It’s okay to slowly drift away from people. It’s okay to get bored of people and not know how to tell them so. It’s okay to want to be alone and away from all people for a while. But it’s not okay to be like that for weeks. There are people who you can talk to. Even if it is hard.

Please don’t hate the way you look. You are perfect as who you are. You look in the mirror way too much. Stop. It’s not worth it. Believe everyone and what they tell you. Believe that you are pretty, are skinny. Because you are. Even if the dysmorphia tells you you aren’t. But in saying that, don’t become addicted to the foods you so love. Don’t fade away from the healthy food you get fed at a young age, keep eating that, it’s good for you and will stop the lead-up of so many body image issues.

Stop worrying so much about what other people think about you. Stop thinking that you have to be a fakery, yet another mask, because people just want to see the real you. I promise you. Embrace who you are as an individual.

Remember that it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to get angry. And it’s also okay to ask for help. But it’s okay not to cry too. It’s okay to grieve by locking yourself away, as long as you come out and don’t let the grief change who you are as a person. There will be unimaginable losses and they will cut you down, but you need to be able to get through them and not change who you are because of them, it’s not fair on those who you lose.

Appreciate the time you have with you family. All of it. It won’t all last forever. It won’t always be the same. People will change, become tougher, harsher and some will leave you. Don’t assume that people will always be there, because they won’t be. It’s the same with friends. They won’t always be there for you, they’ll leave you or you’ll leave them or other things will get in the way and you’ll drift apart. So appreciate the times you do have with them, the moments you spend together. They’re important. And don’t be afraid to ask them things, to get their help, that’s what they’re there for, to support you.

Life is not a straight line. Life is full of twists and turns and it’s okay to stray from the well-worn path that everyone else is trampling. It’s okay to express yourself and the failures you do have, shouldn’t lead you into years of regret. They should grow you as a a person. That’s what they’re there for. To help you, to guide you. You need to find the one big thing that causes you happiness. It’s the most important thing, but don’t go running around madly trying to find it, sometimes you just have to sit quietly and let it come to you, it always will.

Don’t hurry to grow up. Stay a child for as young as possible, let yourself grow up slowly. There’s stress involved in growing up and becoming older and everyday you need to take life slowly and let it go at it’s own life.

Now, onto some less serious things. Don’t stop playing the piano. Don’t let yourself be bullied into doing things. Take notes in your classes. Don’t spend too much time on your devices. Don’t get into arguments with teachers. Don’t spread rumors. Don’t let people boss you around. Allow yourself to open up. Don’t stay so quiet. Become the leader you are. Don’t bite your sister. Don’t lie so much. Smile more. Let your emotions out. allow yourself days of rest. Organise yourself. Let your thoughts be free. Don’t come up with eccentric goals. Don’t stop writing. Learn to take criticism. Learn to receive compliments. Give love freely. Don’t be afraid of the results of things. Don’t cut. Don’t let your emotions rule your life. Don’t procrastinate everything. Learn to laugh easily. Don’t push yourself so hard. Listen to those older than you. Keep good secrets. Tell bad secrets. Love those around you. Learn to accept touch. Let people talk to you. Talk about your feelings. It’s okay not be be okay. It’s fine not to be normal. Have deep conversations. Have friends who can make you laugh. Make friends who you can just talk to. Have a shoulder to cry on. Don’t decide on what you want to do early. Let yourself dream. Allow your dreams to change. Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on others. Live freely. Live in the moment. Let yourself just be you. Have fun. Take risks. Live without regrets. Let people know you are there. Ask for help when you need it. Don’t be afraid to be confident. Be weird. Be happy with who you are. Wash your sheets regularly. Wash your clothes regularly. Keep your room tidy. Don’t forget to do any assigned exercises. Exercise regularly. Keep a diary. Remember birthdays. Get people gifts for the sake of it. Put yourself first. Keep an eye on your mental health. Check over yourself daily. Live a little. Try something new every week. Do wild things. Don;t be afraid to explore yourself. Don’t compare yourself to others. Don’t be afraid of life.

You are perfect as you are now.

Love,

An Older Emily

xo

Anyway, that’s the end of that! It’s a really good way of bringing yourself back down and I would highly recommend writing yourself a letter as a stress reliever!

see you in the next post!

emily xo

I Have Problems  |  Hi I’m Back  |  How To Cut Your Hair At Home 

Hi I’m Back | Why I Took a Break + Thoughts on It

Hi I’m back.

So I took a break from…everything I guess. I took a break from blogging, Instagramming (is that a word?!) and generally from life. And it was…nice? I think? I took a break to try to improve my mental state because I was overly stressed and completely worn out and just needed a break. So I took one. If you follow either of my Instagrams (emil.theislandofme or _.your.royal,highness._) you will know that I announced that I would be taking a break for a week or so to work on my mental state. Depending on which account you follow, I ‘returned’ either today or yesterday. But if you just follow here, I’m back today! Yay!

Okay, so I took a break for a week just to try to get everything back under control. My mental state, physical state and thoughts. And it failed. Miserably. You see, I really missed blogging and interacting with people over the internet and stuff like that. It’s the school holidays here (last day tomorrow) and, in all honesty, it was very isolated. As you may know, I live in the middle of absolutely no where and go to school over an hour away. My friends all live in town where we go to school, and the majority of my friends from last year don’t talk to me (yes, there are the two amazing people who talk to me still and you’re great). So my only means of communication where the internet for two weeks. And it was lonely. And boring and I did not enjoy it one bit.

Before I took this break for a week or so, my mental state had been all over the place. I had been having panic attacks every couple of days and I’d been ignoring absolutely everyone and running myself out. Not fun. So I thought that a break would do me some good. Boy was I wrong! Here’s a quick recap of my week:

Sooooo last Sunday I was home alone, my demons got into my head big time, I had a panic attack, messed up the house and had a huge breakdown when my parents got home which resulted in me crying for 2 hours and ignoring everyone. Fuuuunnnn. Monday I got up super late and did nothing, got triggered by something and spent almost an hour calming myself down from (yet another) panic attack. Oh, and I wrote the final part of my WIP which made me incredibly emotional and cry a lot. Tuesday I got up late again, ran and then proceeded to sit outside writing for ages in the sun. I ended up crying and drawing depressing pictures whilst listening to depressing music and attempting to calm myself down (not: this took a long time). Wednesday I went into town, walked around for a while, got home and had an awful evening in which I had another panic attack for no reason at 11pm. Thursday I lay in bed for ages before talking to a friend who I had barely ever talked to about life and stuff and somehow triggering myself and crying for hours. Other stuff went on and I cried for a very, very long time. Friday. Haha, Friday was a lot of fun. I woke up about 7 and then had a waking dream (IDK what you call them) where I was awake, but paralyzed lying in bed. I ended up dying in the dream and I felt it all. I was kinda freaked out for the entire day and had no clue what I was doing, kind of walking around in a trance because I had felt myself die (lots of fun. If you know any reasons for this please comment belowwwww) . At about 8pm the realisation hit and I had another panic attack which took hours and hours and hours (we’re talking 4 hours) to calm down enough to allow me to sleep. And I ended up in fits of tears again. It was great. (i have amazing friends who i love so much and who mean so much to me who helped to calm me down)

Okay, so that my my break week. It did not go as I had planned it to so that was great. My skin did not fare well, the acne that I was just beginning to deal with blew up again and it made me feel awful, my hair has not been brushed or dealt with in over 4 days and I spent the entirety of yesterday wearing my pyjamas. Unfortunately my mental state was awful and this ended up translating to my physical appearance. Now that I’m back I hope to get everything back under control again. Fingers crossed.

Now I am going to begin to deal with everything once again. I’m going to restart and sort everything out. I have plans to get a notebook and use it as a bullet journal type thing until I manage to get a hold of a real one sometime soon. Hopefully that will sort some things out. I’m going to get a hold of some things to organise my bedroom so I can inhabit it and I’m going to begin stretching and running again because both those things help my mental and physical state.

This is the beginning of something new and I know I have said this many, many times before but it’s time to stop putting it off until tomorrow and getting everything together. So I’m going to. Starting tomorrow everything is going to get better. Stay tuned to my instagram (@emily.theislandofme) for updates and stuff. It’s time to get everything together and start enjoying the life I have. Life is too short to dwell on the bad things and regret everything I do.

see you in the next post!

emily xo

How To Cut Your Hair At Home Me a Sleepin’  |  An Entirely Uppercase Rant