I haven’t posted to my blog for a while, it’s a shame because I kind of got into a groove with it last year. I’ve been feeling quite depressed about my life and not knowing what to do, or how to cope with my anxiety.

Isn’t it strange that you can have all of the coping strategies in the world, but you still manage to forget them all when you’re struggling. I don’t know if that’s just a human thing or a ‘me’ thing. But today I’ve reassessed where I’m at and what I need to do to (try) and get out of my sadness.

I find that the act of walking is great for thinking things over and making decisions. I don’t know why – maybe it’s something from our hunter gatherer days… and when I got home I felt inspired to write a poem, which I haven’t done for ages. I didn’t really know what else to post so here it is:

The restless halls of my mind are spinning.

Weaving hope into existence.

With every footstep,

I tread towards a far-off goal,

It turns to dust when I’m alone.

But out in the shimmering world,

People are laughing and shapeshifting.

I try to peek at the pages of their stories.

I turn the key to my front door

The furniture is motionless as it was before,

Everything is as I left it.

Yet everything is changed.


My mind fizzes and pops,

I’m scrolling on my phone and I just can’t stop,


What? Sorry I didn’t hear you,

A bird flew by, just there, near you.

Its 1am and I can’t sleep,

Tomorrow morning, there’s an appointment to keep.


That thing that happened ten years ago,

It’s important – my mind told me so.

I had a thought and now it’s 2 hours later,

There’s a snack that only my fridge can cater,


More distractions and a knock at the door.

My mind just can’t keep up anymore.

The Secrets Water Holds – Poetry

I’m often inspired by the weather. The tropical heat we’ve been having in the UK is quite unusual, so naturally we’ve all been talking about it – a lot. I hope you enjoy this poem that I wrote during one of the many storms this week.

White water is dripping at the window,

A spiral downpour knocks my door.

I take a breath of heavy heat,

As the land waits with baited awe.

Will the storm throw in the towel?

Or continue its battle with the sky?

A rumble shakes my bones,

As I exhale moisture into the unknown.

I spy a light in the sky,

With my little eye I wonder.

What secrets water holds,

As it moves in cycles and groans.

I step outside into silence,

The leaves are moist with memories.

And across the sodden ground I uncoil,

The water has left footprints in the soil.

Umbrella Heart

The rain often caught me,

Ice water etched rivulets into my bones,

The cold soaked so deep,

I couldn’t catch my breath to breathe.

I only knew I couldn’t fight,

Fear wrapped me up and held me.

And cosy comforts became puppets strings,

Wrenching me from my door.

I wanted to scream at it to disappear,

But the water still fell a crystalline grey,

Always in my way, always in my way,

I had to search for something today.

A red umbrella covered in dust,

Trembled in time with my beating heart,

And with it in hand, I stepped outside,

The rain ran off and fell away.

The Desert

I thought I was alone in this desert,

In fact, I’ve never felt so lonely.

The sky is beautiful, unbroken and blue,

But not as blue as me.

The scorpion at my feet walks by, oblivious.

I’m not alone because you are over there,

I wave at you frantically,

The sand swirls around me,

Into the shape of a strange person,

A mirage you can only half see.

Why must the words stick in my throat.

The heat, the fear,

It dashes any chance of rescue.

If I must I’ll build a temple of stone,

And then perhaps you’ll come.

I step into a riverbed that long since ran dry,

I lay the foundations stone by stone,

My hands are throbbing and crack,

Taunting me to turn back.

But I know I must carry on.

Now my foundations are good and strong,

Startled, I look on,

As someone I’ve never met approaches.

I look at them and smile,

Smiling back they say, I thought I was alone in this desert.

Speak – a poem about my silence

Talking is hard when you are silent.

In a room of crowded voices,

Words ricochet around the room.

Too fast for your mind to consume.

A jumble of sentences,

Flow from one person to another,

And end abruptly at your ears,

Stoking the fire of your fears.

It’s an easy song to sing they say,

But I don’t know the words.

Maybe I should learn one day,

Or remain forever unheard.

I Lost Myself

A few months ago a song called She Used To Be Mine by Sara Bareilles made me stop in my tracks. It’s about life not turning out in the way you wanted and feeling like you’ve lost a part of yourself. I can’t think of a song that has ever hit me like that before and after listening to it I immediately burst into tears.

I thought back to my final year of high school; (16 years ago.. eek!) I was excited about leaving and what the future held, “we can start living and be free to do whatever we want,” I laughed excitedly to my friends. But unfortunately due to my social anxiety disorder and mental health struggles it didn’t really work out like that for me. I went to university and dropped out after 3 months, struggled to hold down a string of basic jobs and ended my long term relationship two years ago after he cheated on me. My relationship was a big part of my life and after it ended I felt lost, as I realised just how much focus I’d put on him rather than myself. (I’ll write a post about why neglecting yourself in a relationship is a bad idea soon).

For the last two years I’ve been slowly rebuilding myself, having therapy and thinking about exactly what I want from my life. I’m not quite there yet but I believe I’m on the right track. Sometimes I feel a bit sad for the naive young girl I was, whose soul was a lot lighter and more optimistic, but the truth is with age comes wisdom. Although I haven’t achieved everything I wanted, I’m still proud of myself for carrying on and growing so much as a person.

The song really inspired me so I decided to write a poem.

Finding Her Feet

The funny girl with the vivid red hair,

Lost herself as the years passed and the people fell.

She reached the end of her path,

And tumbled across the ground grazing her knees,

Watching as the others kept walking.

Her hair is still red but it’s faded now,

And she carries on smiling but without the vivre.

She might have a plan but can’t see the wood for the trees,

But that’s OK because now she’s found her feet.

The red transforms into chestnut brown,

Her outer layers crack and fall into jagged pieces,

She exits the thicket and boldly steps into the breeze,

The woman she is can now simply be.

You are important to me. Poem for Mental Health Awareness Week 2020.

You are important to me.

Though you might not feel it,

When time ticks by without you,

And you spend your days alone.

But still, I want you to know.

You are important to me.

When tears fall onto your pillow,

And your soul feels scared inside,

Others share your struggles,

So there’s no need to hide.

You are important to us.

Though your voice seems so quiet,

And the world is screaming loud,

When you shakily take your first step.

You’re never alone in our crowd.

We are together.

Mental illness is a difficult thing to live with. The little things like going to visit a friend or popping to your local coffee shop can be what help you stay well. So losing that freedom can feel hard to bear.

I tried to remind myself of how important it is to protect others by staying at home. As the UK government keeps saying.. stay home, save lives. This will all eventually end. Here’s a little poem I wrote last night.

Hope is the light that shines through,

Connecting me to you.

Smiling faces on handheld screens,

Although apart, we are together.

The kindest words and deeds,

Spread faster than any disease.

So here in our homes we will wait,

Bravely keeping each other safe.