World Mental Health Day: Me and My Mental Illness

What I’m going to be writing about today is a bit of a heavy topic, something that I haven’t really publicly written about in four years since I was in Form 5. Today is World Mental Health Day, and I want to talk about my journey and experiences with anxiety.

As I am writing this, I can already feel the tendrils of anxiety start to reel in; “this post isn’t going to be good or informative enough” “what will other people think of me now” “am I even in a position to write a whole blogpost about this”. But among all these doubts and insecurities, one thing that I do know for sure is that four years ago, if it hadn’t been for a blogpost that someone on the Internet had written about which I’d accidentally but fortunately stumbled upon, I probably wouldn’t have grown and learned to overcome so many hurdles related to my mental illness along the way to become the person that I am today, someone who is in a far better position than my 17-year-old self. And so despite having already procrastinated on this post for the whole day (can you believe my sheer luck for having classes-less Mondays), I managed to convince myself that writing this is a good thing, because if this helps even only one of my readers in their battle against mental illness, it would be worth it. At the same time, I also hope writing something like this will encourage more people to talk about mental illness, which is not an easy feat considering the strong taboos and stigmas surrounding MI, so if someone as fearful as me can do it, so can you.

This is going to be difficult, but I want to be as honest and myself as best I can when writing this, without isolating my own personal individuality from this post because I don’t want this to be an essay, but a conversation.

The first time I experienced a full-fledged panic attack was when I was at Biology tuition class in 2012, a month before SPM. I was sat in the middle of a quiet class of around 100 people with only the teacher talking in front, when I suddenly felt this numbing feeling in my chest. I started to get worried, already phasing out of what the teacher was talking about, wondering what was going on. And so it was this fear, coupled with the sight of everyone around me being so calm and quiet and me being the exact opposite that launched me into a full state of panic. I had to raise my hand in the middle of class (adding to the already mountainous level of fear I was feeling because now everyone’s eyes were on me and shit, would they think I’m weird), shakily tell my teacher that I wasn’t feeling well, and then call my dad to ask him to pick me up but not really being able to tell the reason why. I was still panicking when I got home and to this day, I remember the intense feeling of pure, unadulterated fear I’d felt, feeling like something bad was happening or was going to happen and not knowing what to do about it at all. It wasn’t my first time having a panic attack, as I could recognise these symptoms and subconsciously feed the information of “oh, you’re panicking” to my brain in that state of frenzy, but it was my first time feeling “oh no, oh my god, oh shit what’s going on something’s going to happen am I gonna die” and then having these unhelpful thoughts further push me down a spiral of worse panic. It was horrible. Even writing this now makes my palms sweat a little.

I managed to calm down eventually with the help of my parents, and that night I slept in my parents’ room. I slept rather well actually, because I felt so exhausted. It felt like I’d just run a marathon when it was really probably just 15 minutes of a panic attack.

The next morning, I woke up with a deathly fear of the same thing happening again. And this time, unlike the previous times I’d panicked before, the fear stayed.

During that period of time and especially of that leading up to the weeks of SPM, I was in a perpetual state of fear that I would get a panic attack at any moment without warning. After all, that was what happened the previous time, what’s to stop it from happening again? Even worse, what if the same thing happened in the middle of an SPM exam? And that, I think, was how I gradually developed the fear of enclosed spaces (both literally and metaphorically), spaces where I can’t escape easily if things get too much for me to cope with. This fear of panic attacks was the cause of most of my attacks, creating a vicious cycle that I would later on learn to be a panic disorder. I started to avoid places and situations where I’d panicked at before. It got to the point where I’d avoid wearing the same clothes I’d worn during a panic attack, a form of superstitious paranoia that history would repeat itself under the same conditions.

I wasn’t a very confident and carefree person to begin with, so my anxiety was basically a flared-up version of everything that I was flawed at. I couldn’t eat well. I couldn’t sleep well. I spent majority of my time wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I ended up panicking in the middle of my English paper during SPM and had to tell the invigilator that I had to puke, though after she walked away I was even more afraid of the prospect of leaving the exam hall in the middle of an exam so I forced myself to focus my undivided attention on the paper instead of on my anxiety. It was difficult, but ironically enough, you sort of get the hang of it after enough practices with the number of papers you have to take in SPM. Although those weeks do feel really far away to me now, I can still remember the helplessness and hopelessness of this panic-trodden fear, and to the 17-year-old me who had been receiving these bouts of fear in full blasts sporadically unannounced, it only made sense that 2012 wasn’t exactly the most cheerful year I’d had.

Anxiety is a cheeky little thing. It takes everything you see, hear and think, and twists it towards blatant paranoia that things are actually worse than they seem, or that other people actually have a different negative meaning behind it. It can go from “she looks at everyone except me in the eye when talking, is it because I said/did something wrong” to hours of ruminating over a list of Potential Things I Might Have Said Or Done to Make Her Angry at Me which eventually leads to actually believing that she is actually mad at me and thus affecting my social attitude when it might actually and realistically be nothing at all. And this went for most things besides social interactions; I had a headache? Might be an aneurysm. Couldn’t reach my dad on the phone? Something bad must’ve happened. Sudden feeling of apprehension that appeared out of nowhere? There must be a logical reason to justify this sudden feeling of dread and that logical reason is something bad happening or about to happen. And thus, that was how most of my days spent, believing that things x, y and z were all turning to shit and oh god, suddenly it’s too hot but I’m getting cold sweat and my surroundings are too loud and the lights are too bright and it’s a bit hard to breathe. Rinse, lather, repeat.

I was never clinically diagnosed, and the reason for that involves the stigma of mental illness. Especially in the small town of Alor Setar that I am from, it’s not a thing that most people think is “normal”, I would reckon. And truly, that is a very scary thing if not the scariest, even more so than the actual symptoms of anxiety and panic attacks. Nothing, I feel, is more terrifying than feeling alienated and alone when you’re already slowly losing bits of your confidence and self-esteem. Because great! Now not only do you yourself feel that something is wrong with you, you have the concrete evidence of so many people of the same opinion agreeing with you! Does wonders for your self-worth.

So I did the one thing that would make me feel less lonely: go on the Internet. They always say to never google your symptoms because 70% of the time the results will likely be worse than it actually is, and to some extent I agree with the notion behind that, but at the time, feeling my absolute lowest, I needed to find a logical reason for my despair. I felt like that was the only way I could get my life back on track again. Identifying what my problem was was my first step to gaining a footing on the main pathway again instead of straying through muddy plains. Strangely enough, it’s very, very comforting when you have people tell you that what you’re going through is normal, it’s a common thing and it happens to a lot of people, and sometimes it doesn’t even have to happen for any reason at all. Because suddenly, you’re not alone. You’re not this abnormal specimen that feels bad for existing and being like this. Despite knowing that this knowledge wasn’t going to cure me instantaneously, the job was pretty much already I’d say 20% done when I realised that, in my case, having anxiety didn’t make me an alien; it made me, ironically, human. Despite not receiving an official diagnosis, I found comfort in being able to relate to other people’s experiences of anxiety and being able to put a name to what I’d been feeling horrible about for weeks.

The main things that got me through that dark period of my life were: talking to my parents, Aunty Amelia and my friends, as well as (don’t laugh) watching videos of Youtubers on Youtube. For once in my life, I tried to ingrain the habit of talking about my feelings, problems and just anything that I needed to talk about to people, instead of furiously scribbling them down in an angsty journal and then pretending everything was fine. Because that was my main problem I think, not talking to people. That, and also the accumulated stress and pressure from everyone around me to do the best in SPM after years of being a top scorer. I honestly don’t think I could’ve emerged from that funk if it weren’t for the constant reassurances from my parents that they didn’t see me any less as their daughter, despite the way I was.

And then there were times when I had to seek distractions, so Youtube became an addictive platform for me. At that point in my life when I was feeling incredibly alone, having someone figuratively talk to me through a computer screen helped, surprisingly.

My anxiety didn’t go away after SPM ended, something I’d intensely prayed and wished for in the middle of exams, but of course this isn’t something that just goes away when you want it to. And now with school over for good, I found that staying at home and doing nothing only intensified the overthinking and worrying. I was at my wits end. Wasn’t this anxiety caused by exam stress? But now that SPM was already over, why wasn’t this as well? At that point I was starting to have serious concerns about attending college and subsequently, university. All along, it’d been a naturally default plan in the blueprint of my life that I would do these things without qualms, because that was what everyone expected of me. But now, I didn’t know anymore.

I rarely left the house that month, until I realised that this wasn’t the path I wanted to take. I didn’t want to allow my anxiety to stop me from doing things that I wanted to do. But of course, that was easier said than done. When faced with the choice between doing something and risk being afraid and thus panicking, and staying at home in comfort and safety, it was only natural to gravitate towards the latter.

Which was why I forced myself to get a job. It was my parents’ idea, and I saw this as a chance to actively do something. Plus, I knew how effective routines can be to establish a sense of comfort and calmness.

It turned out getting a job for three months instead of idly waiting for my exam results to come out was one of the best decisions I have made. It was a busy part-time cashier job at Popular, nine hours a day and six days a week with unpaid overtime hours late into the night. On weekends, it got so busy that I wouldn’t even be able to leave the counter to take a toilet break for the whole day, and then I’d come home every night exhausted beyond belief. But I was doing something. I was meeting new people and interacting with customers and using my brain to think while on the job, and it was precisely the busyness of it all that left me little room to ruminate much of anything else. And then of course this is a thing rarely explicitly observed but no matter what you do, as long as you’re doing something productive, you’ll always be able to derive satisfaction from it at the end of the day. Plus, days when I weren’t very anxious served as encouragements that, if there is one day when I can be okay, there can be many more days like that in the future. These were small steps, and I was contented with achieving small goals without overwhelming myself too much.

And then I quit my job in March, after SPM results came out, giving the reason that I wanted to focus on college applications. And then I impulsively bought tickets to fly to the UK and stay there for a month. Alone. I knew I said I was taking small steps but this was a giant one, even by my own standards. And I did it! This, to this day, still remains a pretty big milestone in my life, and I’m really happy that I saw the opportunity and seized it. It has helped me a lot in the long run.

Getting a job and flying to the UK had set up a pretty solid foundation for what was to be a good year for 2013. I entered college in July and was the best version of myself that I could ever be. Funny, sociable and confident. I don’t know if it was genuine or a facade because I’m too distanced from that person I was in sem 1 of A Levels to recall the mindset I was in, but that was a peak moment in my life, which further boosted my self-confidence. I didn’t have any major panic attacks that year.

Come 2014, I had to miss a week of classes due to my grandfather’s funeral in January and when I went back to Sunway, I panicked in the middle of Physics class from all the lessons I’d missed and had to leave the classroom to call my parents, who managed to help me calm down. After that, I got afraid again. I panicked once on the canopy walk and wasn’t able to go on it alone anymore ever again. I couldn’t go anywhere alone because I was convinced if I did that and panicked, no one would be able to help me calm down because I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to calm myself down. Worse still, I was alone in Subang without my parents, so this was a whole new territory I was stepping into.

But I was lucky. I honestly lucked out, to have met the people I met in Sunway who I now call my closest friends. After my panic attack episode, despite feeling like I was being pushed into a corner yet again, I found an easier outlet to breathe through by telling my friends about my problem with anxiety. Maybe this was also prompted by the fact that I was in a college in Subang, and was of the opinion that people here would be more exposed to mental illness issues than back in Alor Setar. It was standard of me to expect negative responses, but I’d received none. All my friends and housemates were so accepting of my struggles, and this time, I felt less of the alienation I did back in 2012. This time, I felt more reassured that this was something I could deal with and overcome to not let it get in the way of me living my life. This wasn’t to say I got rid of my anxiety entirely (in the first place, anxiety is not really something you can get rid of). My anxiety started to creatively manifest itself in multiple different ways besides panic attacks, like avoidance behaviour and social anxiety, equally pain-in-the-ass as panic attacks. But having family and friends who knew what was going on with me and was still willing to accept me and help me get back up whenever I fell down made the falling down part easier to cope with. There eventually came a time when my insecurities and inadequacies kept being proven wrong time and time again with the reassurances of the people around me that I was capable of looking my anxiety in the (metaphorical) eyes and discern what was real and what was not. It still remains a blurred line to me nowadays in certain aspects, but I’ve learned a lot since then to be able to differentiate worries that are substantial from those that aren’t.

Now, I am in university and sometimes I still get habitually afraid of going to places alone for fear of panicking and not being able to be “rescued”. My social anxiety is also probably at its peak form in this environment that expects you to meet all the people and make all the new friends and do all the yolo stuff together, but I am still learning to go about life without allowing anxiety to be a hindrance to things I want to do, people I want to know and the person I want to be. Last year, I was regretful of many things that I was too afraid to try, and after spending the whole summer back at home lamenting and deliberating, I came back to Manchester this year with multiple resolutions to make a change for myself. I am in a far better place currently, and it’s always comforting and reassuring to know that if I have managed to overcome the things I’ve overcome, I can do it again. If I can take a 13-hour flight all the way to UK by myself and start a new life afresh in a foreign country surrounded by a massive amount of people from different cultures and backgrounds, I can invincibly do almost anything.

Ultimately, this post is to reach out to those who have felt/are feeling similarly and feel isolated because of that. I know what it feels like, and I want to help. You are never alone in this, and you are not abnormal or strange or any of the doubts you constantly think of. You are merely human, and your mental illness does not define who you are. And remember, always ask for help if you need it, whether it be medical help, therapy and counselling, or even just telling your family and friends. Talking about it makes a huge difference. Everyone deals with their mental illness differently; I didn’t want to take medication, but I learned the concept of CBT and sought counselling from people I trusted whenever I needed it. This doesn’t make my anxiety any better or worse than anyone else’s. It doesn’t make me a better or worse person than anyone else. Mental illness isn’t a competition, and everyone deserves the right to help themselves in any way they can, as well as the right to be helped in any way they can be.

World Mental Health Day was initiated to combat the taboos and stigmas surrounding mental illness, which is the main cause of MI sufferers refusing to seek help in the first place. It’s strange that when you say the word “illness” it carries no ulterior connotation but when you attach the word “mental” before it, suddenly all the associated adjectives like “crazy” “deluded” “insane” pop up. I feel it in the apprehension I felt when I chose the title for this post, and I feel it in the casual “oh, you’re just overthinking again” comment I often receive and also often make to myself, to be honest. In any event, it is most likely that the anxiety sufferer themselves have already told themselves that a million times over and what they seek is validation rather than a rejection of what they have been experiencing for a very long time.

With time and the help of the people around me, I’ve gathered more courage to be able to speak about this with other people, and also on a public platform like this. It lessens the burden so much more when you let others in and grant them your perspective on things when you’ve been in your own head for too long. It reinforces the belief that you, despite your anxiety, are worthy of other people’s affection and care just as much as anyone else. And suddenly, living with a mental illness like anxiety doesn’t feel too overbearing anymore when you’ve got people around you who are willing to help you. I am not cured, and I am not confident enough to say one can be 100% cured of a mental illness, but I’d say one can learn how to cope and live with it. Back when I was 17 and was imparted with this new knowledge that I was suffering from anxiety, I thought I could never feel like a normal person again and that I would always have to carry this sickness around with me like a ten-tonne deadweight tied to my ankles. I thought that there was where my life would end, and that I had no hope of ever having a worry-less future anymore. I thought that everything I touched would be tainted by my anxious mind, and that I would turn everything into a giant anxious mess just by existing. I thought and thought and thought, but at that moment in life, I never would’ve thought that all those things weren’t true and would not turn out to be so. Some of my best memories in life happened even though I suffer from anxiety. Some of the best people I’ve met in my life wanted to be my friends even though I suffer from anxiety. It’s amazing, almost absurd, to think that these can be possible, but they are, and they are valid and real, and none of my paranoid thoughts can possibly dispute situations that have physically manifested in front of my eyes. And that was when I started to genuinely believe that I was capable of living a good and fulfilling life with my anxiety, despite my anxiety. I wasn’t going to let it stop me from experiencing the world as it truly is.

I also hope this post helps those who have people who are suffering from anxiety in their lives, to give insight on what an anxiety sufferer is actually going through and how one can understand them better and offer the help that they need. Like I said, the way everyone deals with their anxiety is different, but I would think that being there for them and not treating them like a lesser human being would generally be a good step in an effort to appreciate them for who they are, mental illness and all.

I am so grateful to all the people in my life who have helped me in this ceaseless battle against anxiety, without whom I wouldn’t be the stronger person that I am today. Thank you for always picking me up whenever I fall and constantly reminding me that there are more good things in life than there are bad. Lastly, I hope conversations like this will aid to lift the taboo of speaking about mental illness, especially since it is something that can be alleviated, however little, by talking about it.

Some useful links:


Of late, I’ve been slowly trying to nurture myself to be comfortable with being alone by myself without feeling anxious. My fear of being alone stems from previous panic attacks that had occurred when I was alone, particularly that one time when I started panicking on the canopy walk. There was no one I knew around and I kept on looking at the faces of strangers around me, students like me walking from Monash to Sunway or from Sunway to Monash, books in hand, bags on shoulders, some with earphones in and some without; and I noticed every single detail with my heightened senses, and all I could do was bear holes into other people’s skulls with my stares, silently begging someone to save me from this thing happening to me because I was already too scared to save myself. Since then, I was terrified of going anywhere/doing anything alone because I was afraid in the event of another attack, I wouldn’t be capable of calming myself down. This led to the vicious cycle of “fear of anxiety itself” (as was mentioned in one of Hank Green’s CrashCourse videos which offers very interesting explanations about the whole deal about anxiety), wherein the fear of having a panic attack actually induces a panic attack. Very ironic, I know, but it put me through hell because there was a period of time when even going downstairs to do laundry by myself made me so nervous that I quite literally ran to the laundrette, threw my laundry into the washing machine, and then ran back to the lifts to return to the comforts of my room.

I found out later on that panic attacks weren’t as uncommon as I thought they were, but people never really talked much about it because episodes of panic attacks were solitary for some people. For me, it became a force of habit to avoid anything that might be anxiety-inducing, even if it meant taking a taxi from Sunway Pyramid back to my residence just so I can avoid walking back to my residence alone through the canopy walk. I was still going to be alone, but avoiding the canopy walk made me feel safer (although honestly, I’ve got a pretty twisted opinion of what is and isn’t safe, haven’t I; the irony of it!). Hank also mentioned about this in the video above, calling it avoidance behaviour, where one avoids doing something in fear that doing it might cause anxiety. At that moment, the avoidance might cause some sense of relief, but in the long run, it solidifies the fear of the action, making it more and more difficult to actually do the thing due to the build-up of fear of fear of doing the thing! It’s all just a goddamn cycle! And an exhausting one at that.

Anyway, anxiety 101 aside, tying back to the title and first sentence above, which is that I’ve been going to the Monash library to study alone for a few days now, despite how nervous it first made me feel. I started out in the most secluded corner on the first floor, where I can trick myself into thinking there was no one around and lessen the burden of stress that stares from other people might cause. I sweated a lot and had to take several distraction breaks (in the form of Youtube videos) before I can return to focusing on my revision.

Progressively, I ventured out of the corner and gradually felt more and more comfortable out in the open. And then I started staying back later, walking to Lunchbox to get dinner and then walk back to the library after that. I’m aware how much of a small feat this is going to sound to, well, everyone, but knowing that I did what I wouldn’t have been able to do last week gave me some sort of sense of power and control over my life, as opposed to previously when I relied on the abilities of others to get my shit together.

I made my avoidance behaviour number one on my hitlist, which was why I felt good and sure enough to take the canopy walk alone this afternoon. It wasn’t my first time alone on the canopy walk since that incident, but it was the first time I felt like I wanted to do it. And when I managed to do it I couldn’t help laughing, out of relief more than humour.

That’s not to say I don’t still feel like running away every now and then, but feeling capable of depending on myself and being comfortable about it (and actually growing to like it) has made this week rather alright, despite my initial fear of another episode of spiralling into isolation gloom. It’s always that universal favourite saying of “being alone vs being lonely” and I think I’m gradually coming to understand that.

This week was an unintended milestone and I hope it grows better from here because slinking back into my previous habits sounds very tempting pretty much all the time. But if I can slay this demon then maybe I can slay all the other demons right up to the boss level. Sorry. 1:25AM. Only analogy I can think of.

Panic Attacks, Anxiety and Existential Crises

The end of SPM was as anti-climatic as I’d expected, save for those last few minutes of Accounts paper two when everyone in the hall couldn’t stop grinning like idiots, me included.

The end of SPM also meant my return to the blogosphere but my conscience wouldn’t let me do any other blogging before I wrote this post. It’s perhaps more of an OCD thing because it’d feel like I was hiding something from the world and I didn’t want that.

Okay, let’s start from the very beginning. It all started during Alan’s Biology tuition one night. Before the tuition, I’d already started feeling a sort of numbness at my chest area but I didn’t give it much thought because it went away after a while and so I went to tuition and suddenly, half an hour into it, the numbness returned and I started to panic. Like, a full-on panic attack. Dizziness, sore eyes, light-headedness, nausea etc. I thought I was going to stop breathing. Do know that I’ve had several panic attack experiences before this but none as impactful and frightening as this. So in the end I had to call my parents to come fetch me because I was seriously freaking out and when I got home, the panic reared even higher that my entire body (my face included) went numb. I couldn’t even move my mouth and my eyes, it was like a muscle twitch but a very long duration muscle twitch in every part.

Eventually, my Mum made me wear an infrared belt thingmabob that encouraged blood circulation and I managed to calm down and things were okay. However, the next day, I woke up feeling absolutely terrified that it would happen again, perhaps in school or any other time, and basically this went on for weeks and induced week upon week of anxiety and inexplicable grief.

In between those weeks, I got advice from Aunty Amelia, who reckoned that all this was caused by my subconscious worry and anxiety towards the approaching SPM exams and also constant pressure and stress over high expectations which I never tell anyone about. It is true, though. It’s like forcing any object under high pressure, and one day it just explodes, which in this case means sobbing uncontrollably as soon as I got into the car one day after school. Since then, I’ve made it a point to talk with my parents whenever I faced any problems, something I usually never do.

And then SPM started and those panic attacks returned again. It happened in the middle of English paper two (which, to paraphrase Teacher Noni, was ironic), Math paper two, Add Math paper two and Accounts paper one, which coincidentally happened to be this morning.

The thing is, I was panicking not because of the papers or the questions or that I didn’t know how to do them because I did know how to do all of them, to be quite frank, but because I’d walked into the exam hall afraid that I was going to have a panic attack…and thus that induced a panic attack. Yes, I know that makes absolutely no sense but I later found out it might also be caused by something which I might have called a panic disorder. A person who suffers from panic disorder tend to repeat panic attacks at places where they have been before. Further explanation can be found in a video which I’m about to post below.

Despite the panic attacks I had during the last few papers, I’d managed to well, sort of more or less keep them under control (under control here meaning not crying/vomiting in the middle of a paper). During the second week of exams, I stumbled upon this video by Zoe, a British YouTuber whom, I was admittedly surprised to find out, had been suffering from panic attacks for nine years ever since she was 14.

For those who suffer from panic attacks too, I strongly recommend that you watch this video because it honestly did help me a lot in putting a name to this thing I’ve been having and making me realise that it’s not something impossible. It’s something that can be worked with and treated non-medically.

Part and parcel of these panic attacks, I think, is also this constant terrible nagging feeling at the back of my brain which does a good job of making me feel terrible. In fact, it feels like amplified paranoia because it demands to stay and I don’t know, it feels like an existential crisis because sometimes I’d just sit alone and worry and worry and worry about really insubstantial fears.

So you more or less can get an overall picture here: worry about petty things, petty things being amplified to “world-shaking” level, start to feel fearful, start to panic. It’s a vicious cycle and it’s honestly so tiring.

BUT, now that all that is out of the way, I’m also trying really hard to fix this problem. I know this is going to sound cuckoo but every time I feel an attack coming, I’ll always have certain mantra words on replay in my mind, like “don’t let in control you”, “you have to be brave”, “you have to be strong”, “this will go away someday” etc which are also jotted down on the notepad app of my phone in case I forget them. It helps to calm me down, keep my mind in check as well as distract me from continuing to panic. One of the main reasons why I panic so easily is also because of my fear of everything. If you’ve read one of my previous posts called “Michelle’s Paranoia 101” or something like that, you’ll come to know that once, a friend of mine asked what I was afraid of and I realised I was afraid of every single fear he’d listed down. I was easily frightened, not to mention the fact that I had a strong sense of paranoia so that isn’t exactly the best combination. So now, I’m trying to rectify that by, I don’t know, generally being tougher and stronger. And also more positive and be around positive people more and try to relax and not overthink every single thing.

I don’t exactly know the main reason why I wrote this post (it’d sounded nicer in my head, but then again, so does most things) but like I said, I didn’t want to be hiding things from people I know. Plus, I wish this was something I could talk to people about normally because I’ve now opted to open up more freely to other people. I guess I just don’t want to be alone in this, you know? It’s always nice to have people to talk to and share your problems with, I suppose. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never had the experience of doing so.

So that is all, I hope you guys don’t think I’m abnormal or anything, I am, it’s just that, and I quote my Mum, “people have flaws and this is yours”. Oh dear, this definitely sounded way more morbid than I’d intended it to be. Well, have a good day, and cheers. x