Feel Positive Words Make us Physically Strong

When I was first discharged from inpatient hospital, following my first admission at the age of 14, my sister bought me a book. It was so thoughtful of her and I am still so grateful, but that’s a side note I should probably discuss with her personally.

The book was called, as you may well have heard of before, Feel the Fear and do it anyway by Susan Jeffers. It is described on the cover as “the phenomenal classic that has changed the lives of millions”, and the one that I have is a 20^th anniversary edition.

At the time, I was too wrapped up in my own selfish and debilitating anxiety. I was hating and relenting the recovery process from mental illnesses I wouldn’t allow myself to believe that I had, despite my diagnosis, medication and the one that I have is a 20^th anniversary edition.

At the time, I was too wrapped up in my own selfish and debilitating anxiety. I was hating and relenting the recovery process from mental illnesses I wouldn’t allow myself to believe that I had, despite my diagnosis, medication and admission to a hospital ward and then inpatient facility. I let it slide as my panic attacks ruled my existence, and I was forced into eating every single day, utterly hating myself until that fateful relapse and my second admission that I left last week.

Before I was discharged my care co-ordinator GB recommended this book to me as she saw anxiety consume me at even the thought of doing very normal, every-day social tasks, as well as ultimately taking responsibility for my own Anorexia Nervosa. I knew I had it at home and had to admit I had never actually read it.

So you know, even “felt the fear and did it anyway” when initially picking up the book and beginning to read.

I am currently around ¾ through and have read it so fast. It just GETS ME.

 

The reason I began this post was an extract from the book that really took me physical surprise and may have ultimately “clicked” something in my brain.

It is found midway through the chapter “Pollyanna Rides Again” *** (page 70 and 71 for reference) and references an experiment that she did in one of her classes on anxiety.

“I learned an amazing way to demonstrate the effectiveness of positive versus negative thinking from Jack Canfield, co-author of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series and President of the Self-Esteem Seminars, which I have used in my workshops. I ask someone to come up and stand facing the rest of the class. After making sure the person has no problems with her (or his) arms, I ask my volunteer to make a fist and extend either arm out to the side. I then tell them to resist, with as much strength as they can muster, as I stand facing her and attempt to push her arm down with my outstretched hand. Not once have I succeeded in pushing her arm down in my initial trial.

I then ask her to put her arm down, close her eyes and repeat ten times the negative statement “I am a weak and unworthy person.” I tell her to really get the feel of the statement. When she has repeated the statement ten times, I ask her to open her eyes and extend her arm again exactly as she had before. I remind her to resist as hard as she can. Immediately, I am able to bring down her arm. It is as though all the strength has left her…

(She goes on to repeat the experiment as people are so amazed and the volunteer is adamant that she “wasn’t ready”, but again the same thing happens.)

I then ask the volunteer once again to close her eyes repeat ten times the positive statement “I am a strong and worthy person.” Again I tell her to really get into the feeling of the words. Once again I ask her to extend her arm and resist my pressure. To her amazement (and everyone else’s) I cannot budge the arm. In fact, it is more steadfast than the first time I tried to push it down.

If I continue interspersing positive with negative, the same results occur… By the way for you skeptics out there- I tried this experiment when I was unaware of what the volunteer was saying. I left the room, and the class decided whether the statement should be positive or negative. It didn’t matter. Weak words meant a weak arm. Strong words meant a strong arm.

This is a stunning demonstration of the power of the words we speak. Positive words make us physically strong; negative words make us physically weak.”

 

If your reaction is anything like mine, you’re dumfounded, right?

She goes on to say that it doesn’t even matter if we believe the words or not, it is what our subconscious hears from our internal chattering mind that determines how we feel and act.

This may well have changed my life.

The chapter goes on to explain how positive mantras can be completely life changing, as you are reaching out to the strong part of your subconscious mind and therefore making a physical and emotional change for yourself. It is all in your control.

 

I HIGHLY recommend this book.

Please let me know your thoughts below.

 

*** “Pollyanna is a delightful story about a young girl who made a game out of finding “something to be glad about” in anything negative that came into her life. Over the years this kind of “Pollyanna” thinking has been maligned as being naïve and unrealistic.”

 

The book Feel the Fear and do it anyway is the work of Susan Jeffers and was first published in 1987, reproduced in 2007 by The Random House Group Limited

PLEASE Support my Petition: “Improve CAMHS services in Cumbria, especially surrounding eating disorders.”

Hello!

I’ve kept this petition on the down low until I knew that it was fully up and running and agreed by the authorities that allow these kinds of things to be published. Until NOW.

(As a little foreword, I had to email this petition to 5 people and have them support it to first get it up and running and I finally have those 5 supporters now. This now means it will be checked and verified and then published officially, giving me 6 months to collect 10,000 signatures in order for it to be reviewed by the government/parliament.)

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/162797

I have wanted to make this petition for so long but have always too anxious to; convincing myself that I was an attention seeker BUT even if that was true, which as much as I may try to convince myself, it really is not, this action will help so so many other sufferer’s lives in our county in the years to come.

This is something I feel very passionate about as it is something very close to my heart and has been a part of my life for around 5 years now. I am learning not to be ashamed of the fact that: I have Anorexia Nervosa. I have had for 5 years of my 17 year-long life now already. I also have multiple other mental illnesses that have made my life immensely difficult in the past and still do despite being in active recovery.

I am soon to be discharged from my second stay in a specialist eating disorder inpatient unit. I have spent a total of a year of my life (or more) in this very unit.

It is 120 miles away from my home.

That is a minimum of a 2 and half hour -journey ONE WAY.

This is the closest one to me as there is zero specialist eating disorder treatment within the entire county, with an area of 4206 miles squared.

 

I want to make it clear that this is not a vendetta against a particular individual. Nor am I saying that this is the services’ fault; this really is through lack of funding and trained individuals working within the service in this county. It is not even a direct action for myself and my own care as I will soon be transitioning into adult services which begin at the age of 18. But this has gone on long enough. It has effected far too many people already and it will only continue to happen in the future if direct action like this isn’t taken.

In my own experience of the CAMHS services, that despite being incredibly grateful for a lot of the direct support that I have received in understanding myself and my illnesses, there is still a long way to go and a lot of failings, not caused by any one individual, but rather a general lack of resources and funding. Mental illnesses are allowed to get out of hand before proper intervention is taken. Personally, I was allowed to destroy myself and my body, despite constantly telling the services and originally actively seeking support, not just once but twice. I was allowed to deteriorate to below my dangerously underweight lowest before I was finally referred to inpatient services. This was at least a wait of 6 months, if not much, much longer. Many sufferers are not able to actively seek support this way and intervention must be taken so much sooner to stop this from happening, especially surrounding eating disorders.

In my own experience, every single person that I have met in my inpatient centre in Middlesborough, has been struggling so drastically that they were not physically able to or allowed to walk. They were in a wheelchair, even to get to their bedroom down the short corridor. Why must we as sufferers from such a horribly common mental illness, have to physically deteriorate ourselves at all to be taken seriously, never mind to such a dangerous degree?

 

This has to change.

We recently received a letter telling of a grant of money being given to Cumbria to increase eating disorder services which I am immensely grateful for. I can only hope that this goes ahead and services do improve. I guess I’m just a desperate and scared teenage girl trying to make even the slightest difference.

 

Soooooo:

Here is the link to my petition below and I can only ask you to take a couple of minutes out of your day to make such an incredible difference.

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/162797

 

 

My Torture Became My Remedy

I have just read this blog post and in writing my comment, I really delved deep into myself and I ask that you take time to read it and do this yourself! I’ve included my comment below too, but obviously read that after the original post.

This is so inspiring! Honestly, I have felt so alone in this: almost ashamed of the fact that Anorexia has consumed me and my identity. I have had Anorexia for so long (despite only being almost 17 now), and so severely that I physically cannot remember what life was like before this. It has become my normal as you worded so well.
But we need to recognise that there is so much more to us than this. I’m trying to think as I type this about what I am. I am a daughter, I am training to be a psychologist (to give back the amazing support I have received and save other tortured souls), I am caring, I am artistic, I am worthy of so much more than this. My head is giving me such a hard time for typing this and thinking of something other than the endless calories and numbers and fears and rituals.
But just as I am more than this, you are too!
YOU ARE MEANT TO BE HAPPY.

One of the hardest parts about recovering from an eating disorder is trying to remember who you were before the eating disorder took over your life. Is it physically hard to eat? Absolutely. Is it mentally hard to eat? Yes. Is it hard to accept my body for what it is and accept myself for […]

via My Torture Became My Remedy — LIFE IN RECOVERY

You Don’t Have to Look Like an Eating Disorder

This video is so so poignant and really does need to be seen by so many more people.

It is less than 3 minutes long yet it speaks VOLUMES about how painful it can be to make thoughtless remarks like this. Tears welled in my eyes as I saw the first speaker, a beautiful young woman, crying as she speaks about her battle with the unseen Bulimia Nervosa.

“There’s a pretty gendered nature to it,” one man responds. “It feels even more shameful. I just feel like weak and embarrassed, like ‘This is something you should figure out on your own.'”

 

Please, know and remember that eating disorders do not discriminate. They can affect anyone of any gender, age, size or shape. Please take time to watch this video and share it because this naivety needs to be stopped and can only be done so by raising awareness.

“Oh, I Had That Too”: Mental Illnesses

I want to start this with an apology, really on the state of my writing recently. I must hold myself back from constantly apologising, because it’s one of my deep set compulsions stemming from countless core beliefs and therapy is constantly telling me “STOP” (insert little hand up emoji here because it would be very fitting). But I do believe this is called for and justified: my mind is so hazy, so confused and flustered, that I just really can’t focus. I worry that I make no sense, and my sentences take so so long to form as they should. There’s something time consuming and poetic about venting here and writing, but I really need to admit that it takes so much out of me. That I have been wanting to do an update on my Instagram for weeks but just seriously don’t have the energy from failing to fuel my body. I have wanted to write this post for months, but I stare at my laptop with the screen closed firmly, mocking me with its dusted, black emptiness where there should be a projection. (I cannot even open it to play the Sims 3, and you know that’s serious.)

Moving on, if you are still reading, I’m going to go into one of my faaaavourite sayings *sarcasm overload and spontaneous combustion* “Oh, you have *insert major and severe mental illness here*? I had that for a few days/weeks too.”

But did you??? Ok, then. Just, okayyyyyy then.

It’s been happening a lot around me in college, (but now thankfully the main person is not in the class, which frankly means I am completely alone again) but of course it happens ALL the time in society and even on the television this very morning.

It makes my blood boil inside.

Or even, rather, it just makes me fall deeper into my own actual, clinical and highly medicated depression (…and anxiety and severe Anorexia and self-harm to cope with that). Because I know as a scientific and medical FACT that you didn’t.

You had depression for a few days then voluntarily pulled yourself out of it? Allow me to correct you, and it’s going to be blunt: you were slightly sad and you got over it because it was trivial and it didn’t matter and you didn’t have a chemical imbalance in the very structure of your brain.

You had an eating disorder for a few weeks and then just got better and never bothered about food or calories again. As you sit there with your Lucozade and chocolate bar as a snack. (I mean I can’t even go there with this one because I have just gone through way too much and there are people in my college who are my “friends” saying bullshit like this while I am teetering on the edge of a second inpatient admission with my health deteriorating daily, having full, screaming, clawing mental breakdowns at night. And if that makes me selfish so be it, I need to let that slide, because I’m on the brink of tears, or rather full panic attack already. Hmm, Anorexia, you are so poetic and beautiful.)

*takes a few days break from the writing process, and comes back after even more breakdowns (again, how beautiful, “I wish I had Anorexia”)*

You tell me you had anxiety, you used to panic. But were you trembling all over at something so seemingly trivial it made you sick with embarrassment and even more pain? You were dizzy, hyperventilating, feeling so close to passing out as your heart fluttered or palpitated in your aching, convulsing chest? That’s so great you just turned those off! I WISH I COULD.

You had a bit of OCD? Well that’s so fantastic that you just got over your “fear of germs” or you stopped ordering the crayons into the colour of the rainbow. How strong of you.

 

I’m so glad that you decided to just flip that switch and decide not to have a life-consuming mental illness.

Or how about, I AM REALLY NOT.

Because none of you had a chemical imbalance, or mental disease/disorder for a few days. For one nervous moment before something completely rational like a test. For one week’s dieting. For feeling a bit down. For picking at your scabs a few times. For saying you didn’t want to wake up tomorrow because you couldn’t be arsed going to school.

None of you were “depressed” that there wasn’t any of your favourite cereal in the house either.

None of you had a “schizo” mother because she got mad at you.

There’s hundreds of things I could list, so I’m going to round this up for you and end this patronising.

It’s annoying isn’t it?

So how do you think I feel when you tell me that you got over something that consumes my every waking moment, and even my restless, anxious time that I allow myself to sleep between compulsive and dangerous over-exercise and self-harming. When you use something so deadly and destructive to describe your emotions or daily activities. I really can’t stress this enough.

 

Because of someone’s naïve and plain STUPID comments today, just overhearing 2 minutes of their conversation, set me into a major panic attack and breakdown in the middle of college for hours. I’ll treat you to that post when I’m strong enough to do so.

Take time before you make mental illnesses sound so miniscule and unimportant: trivial even.

 

I’d love to hear of your experiences with this: if I get enough of them I will make a post with them on, linking you, so please share below or email me at:

deni.is.gaga@gmail.com

 

(I hope this post was okay at least!)

 

The Truth’s of Eating Disorders

I put out a request to all of you suffering from (emphasis on this word!) any form of eating disorder and immediately received some brilliant and informative answers. Deep down I do wish I got no replies, because then these darling and beautiful people would not be suffering, but I know that people do, and I would much much rather that you speak out about it, not only to defy stigma and misinterpretation of this horrible illness, but for yourself, defying the disorder that is defying you of life.

I mentioned in my request that this is mostly to stop people from glamorising this illness (namely the title of my blog too), fighting against that megabitch that fakes an eating disorder (I mean, *SIGH* at her ignorance, attention seeking and major triggering of those who actually do suffer).

I was so shocked to hear from the responses that I am not the only person to know someone faking a disorder. I felt so horrible, fretting that I was the one in the wrong, but I know now that I am not. It is her stupid and naive actions.

I’m rambling.

So here is the literally painful truth of eating disorders. The agony behind your “thinspirations” and those who you praise for their willpower to avoid eating, the one human instinct that we need in order to survive. The vulnerable, teenage girls you exploit, including even me, with pictures of my half naked body plastered around the internet becoming a poster girl for near death. The little girls and boys that you tell in a whining, envious voice “I wish I was addicted to exercise like you”………… I am just gone, I mean, GONE.

This is the truth:

Rayette, in her email received immediately after the request told me:

“I am 23, and have OS F ED which is Other Specified Feeding or Eating Disorder (which I admittedly had to question the lettering/meaning of). I restrict my food intake and have intense fear of gaining weight. And intense fear of gaining weight.”

BellaX0 commented:

“When I was engulfed with Anorexia, I was constipated ALL the time….lovely, right? Now that I am in recovery, a lot has gotten better, but I still struggle.

I constantly body check and get stuck in the mirror… I will change clothes 3, 4 times a day sometimes if I have to go out.

The feelings of guilt after eating have not left.

One thing that was huge when I was in the throes of Anorexia was the constant obsession over calories that I was unable to control. As you go through refeeding, I noticed that aspect gets a little better.

There is nothing glamorous about eating disorders, that’s for sure.”

Ayla, Discoverecovery from for3v3rchanging.wordpress.com left another brilliantly informative comment, which frankly broke my heart a little because, darling, Anorexia is a mental illness! I know that there are differences in the diagnosis criteria depending on the country, not sure which is which but between the UK and US, one has a certain body weight percentage in the criteria which is frankly disgusting, forcing a person to become more ill in order to get help??

Here is the comment though:

“I’m currently in my second year of treatment for an eating disorder; although the diagnosis is shape-shifter (aha… pun intended). At first I was diagnosed with Bulimia, but now my tendencies have shifted towards restricting my calories rather than binging and purging. So I’m not really Bulimic, and I’m certainly not skinny enough to be diagnosed with Anorexia.

One of the things that really stands out to me is the self-bullying. I tell myself that I don’t deserve food, that I’m disgusting, that I’m so fat that my body could go for months without eating and therefore I deserve to starve because of my glutinous past.

I’ve also met people who pretend to have eating disorders or they claim that they “had Anorexia for a month in high school.” Realistically, if they knew anything about Anorexia they would know it lasts a hell of a lot longer than a month. It drives me crazy when people make statements like that! It’s so invalidating and makes it seem like it’s cool to have an eating disorder when in reality I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

Another brilliant and informative comment from the very supportive @helloanx from Instagram, which I am very grateful for is:

“My whole life I have struggled with my food intake. My biggest fear is new foods. I just cannot, CANNOT bring myself to try something I have never tried before. I eat the same things over and over again, and it can take me months, even years of contemplating to actually gather some courage to try something that is completely new to me. I am weak, tired, sad and practically dying constantly. My body does not get the nutrition it needs because of my mind.

It is not cute, it is not glamorous, it’s not something you want to have. It’s life controlling, hours of crying, periods stopping, heart palpitations, shaking constantly. It is hell. The stigma of mental disorders, especially eating disorders, affects us all. We no longer want to speak out in fear that we will be called attention seeking due to fakers before us. Mental illnesses are life threatening, horrible illnesses. You wouldn’t fake about having a physical illness, so mental illnesses should be no different. #stopthestigma”

 

Thankyou and a Request For Everyone With an Eating Disorder

I’ll start this post with a huge thank-you for all of my blog followers!

I know it is not a huge amount, it is likely very average but I am unsure about what “normal” is here on WordPress as a newbie.

But, and it’s time to get soppy, I want to thank you for just being you. For fighting your daily fight, EVERY SINGLE DAY and surviving and thriving and living.

It means so much to me to have you read my blog, to know I am worth listening to for one as all of my very being tells me I am not, and that I am getting my messages across. Thank you.

 

And the latter half of this short post, is a request. I am at the end of my tether (particularly with one particular girl who genuinely fakes having an eating disorder, which in itself is pretty disordered but certainly not in the way she claims…) *and breathhhhhe*. So I want to write a post about the realities of eating disorders.

It is going to be far too difficult to write alone: I mean, I began, but got panicky within much less than half an hour and felt it was too taxing on my distressed and majorly struggling self to carry on.

So I’m putting out a request to anyone with an eating disorder, diagnosed or not, or even if you know someone who has one, or know about them (in detail). EDNOS, Anorexia, Bulimia. Any number of subtypes (eww, number. That is all my brain is made up of.)

Please comment on this post, or send me an email at deni.is.gaga@gmail.com

Any little thing is welcomed greatly, just one statement like, for me,

In this relapse, I have started to lose control of my bladder and I pee myself.

GLAMOROUS.

If you feel strong enough to write more, tell me any of your story, daily routines or thoughts or compulsions, I will really appreciate it. I can also post it anonymously for you?

 

Thankyou!

Kate Powell’s Mental Health Artwork

I have just stumbled across this link on Pinterest when looking for something to post on my blog.

The introduction on the link described Kate as: “Talented teenager Kate Powell has shared her Art projects on social media platforms since she was fifteen years old. She currently has over 12,000 fans on Facebook and 34,000 followers on tumblr, with one of her tumblr posts gaining over 112,000 notes. We talk to Kate about how she has built this following and how she launched her career before graduating from high school.”

Kate achieved outstanding grades at school, achieving an A* in OCR GCSE Art in just Year 9, two years younger than expected and an A* for A level in year 12! She achieved full marks (100%) for AQA AS and A Level Photography in Year 13 and is currently waiting for her AQA AS History of Art and Art Textiles results.

“I think I managed to achieve high grades because I chose projects I was passionate about and which linked directly to me and my life – having this kind of connection with my work motivated me to work hard and prove myself. Since the beginning of my school life I have been concerned with/affected by issues of self-harm/eating disorders/ body image and after tackling these problems in art earlier in my school career I felt like my understanding came to a climax in my A2 exam piece (see below), responding to the title ‘Storyteller’. I was able to use art as a means of reflection and therapy as I tackled the issues closest to my heart, and, because I felt so emotionally invested in the exam piece, I was driven to give it my all.”

“Storyteller: Recovery”

I highly recommend that you visit the links and support this amazing artist.

I’ll post some more of her work below this text, but there are fantastic HD pictures on the link.

“The Butterfly Project”

“Scatterbrain”

Asylums are Not Fun

Fuelled with fire in writing this post. So much so that I couldn’t even write it on the day that it was said, I have waited three weeks through a very bad slip/relapse in my thoughts and behaviours.

The comment: an innocent one, right?

“Every year, our course (Level 3 Health and Social Care Diploma), will go on a trip or day out somewhere to develop your knowledge. I wondered if anyone had any preferences on where they would like to go?”

“Oh, a closed down insane asylum!”

… Then, “Or an open one: we could go and watch the patients.”

URMMMMM?!

I’m really paranoid that the person who said this will find this post somehow, but in all probability not. I need to say it isn’t a personal vendetta, because it was the whole class, and definitely more people beyond that in the world.

I made it quite clear what my view was on this, as I sat there shaking with anxiety thinking about when I was locked in an inpatient mental health centre for 6 months of my adolescence.

“WE ARE NOT ANIMALS TO BE VIEWED IN A ZOO.”

Great, so you have been brainwashed by the media? It’s a poetic and beautiful place full of quirky, hilarious antics day and night. Full of escapes and conflicts and love affairs. A real life …Cuckoo’s Nest or Girl, Interrupted or American Horror Story, to name but a few. I have seen the former two, and I am not knocking the films, but this is so far from the truth.

The closed down “asylums” were disgusting. Their treatments radical and abusive and wrong.

The mental hospitals of today are not open for the public to traipse around. Can you imagine? As my best friend was being restrained by 4 nurses and given immediate medical attention to close the severed vein from another failed suicide attempt, along came twenty health and social care students with notepads and spotlights and prying eyes.

They are completely not poetic, horror film esque, dungeons. In all likelihood, even if you were allowed to visit one in the strangest of circumstances, you would be deeply disappointed. They are brightly lit, they are designed to be very much like home and are designed to the fullest extent to not be clinical. There are beds and lots of locks, on bathrooms, doors, cupboards, closets. There is a day room or two. A dinner hall. A communal toilet too. An office. A locked door holding the patients in (and observers out), and abiding to the law enforced sections. Really, that’s it.

We aren’t all “crazy” 24/7. We are normal people who are poorly, and have slips in our mental state. Really, there is nothing to be so fascinated about: even if you were going to be some sort of medical physicist or whatever they are called.

*and breeeeathe*

I’ll do anything in my power to stop this stupid visit from even being talked about.

My Genetics: Who I am Because of My Family

This post ties in with one of previous posts on whether nature, nurture or a mix most impacts on mental health.

It led to me wonder about my own genetics, and how they have influenced who I am, and also why I am so severely mentally ill.

So this is a personal post: so personal in fact it is about my actual personality, and my close family.

So I’ll start with my grandparents:

I only have one pair of grandparents as my other pair (paternal side) died when my dad was around 14. But the grandparents that I do have are people I am very close to and live just down the road from me, well within walking distance.

From my nan, June who is very self-confident, but less so now that she has osteoporosis. She can also be really caring and giving too, but it can often feel as if she is buying your affection as she is often nasty and grumpy indirectly because of her pain. She talks about diets far too often, even though she is slightly overweight and idolised me when I was skeletally thin. And she completely doesn’t understand mental illness, perhaps because she is from the wrong generation: but that can be very triggering. From her I believe I got:

• My resilience.
• My confidence (that fluctuates in social situations, going from panic attacks, to introducing myself to strangers in order to help them with something).
• And the physicality of my little feet hehe.

From my grandad (Fad), Lawrence, the kindest, most selfless person I have ever met, ever, and likely ever will meet. He is just a darling and I love him with my complete heart. I got:

• My super caring nature.
• My love of animals.
• Perhaps a factor in my anxiety as he has started to develop this now that he is getting older, and was diagnosed with depression recently after a tough time with my nan (who often puts him down in quite an abusive way even though she loves him).
• My ability to see the bright side of situations.

From my mam, Gillian, my beautiful mother who I argued with far too often, and who doesn’t understand mental illness so she often says the wrong things, but is devastated when she does. We are very close, but she can be very vicious, thinking that I created my mental illnesses myself. She has dyslexia, so never leaves the house on her own in case she has to write something down in a shop etc. which can be sad as she has no friends and is very withdrawn even though she is a really friendly and cheery person. From her I got:

• More of my anxiety, in social situations as well as in general: fretting too often.
• My hair colour.
• Being naturally thin when I was younger and growing.
• More of my caring, friendly nature as she also got this from my grandad, but me even more so.

And from my dad, Michael, who can get so frustrated and quick tempered at things but never means to. My mental illnesses cause him a lot of pain and he has said some horrible things, even calling me a monster when he thought I was in bed. Man, that hurt like a stab wound.

• My eyes: me and my dad are the only people in my entire extended family with brown eyes.
• My sense of humour.
• More of my confidence as he pushes me out of my comfort zone often and gets really proud of me, which is a reward for both of us.

So there you go: and if you read this thankyou and I’m sorry I wasted your time hehe.

The point is that I wouldn’t be who I am today without my family. I have my own charaecteristics, granted, and that is what makes me unique: but I have so much from my ancestors that if I get depressed and begin to loathe my being, it means that I am loathing my family too and I couldn’t do that.

Think about how this relates to yourself. I’d love to hear about you.