To The People I’ve Hurt, While I Was Hurting

If there’s anyone that still follows me, or even still reads this blog, then you’ll probably notice that I haven’t posted in about 3 months.. or maybe you haven’t noticed at all, but to be perfectly honest, I’ve been going through a pretty rubbish time mentally. It’s no secret that my mental health isn’t the best, and for the past few months, it’s kind of taken over my life and I needed to take some time out for me.. but while I was doing so, I guess it’s safe to say that while I was hurting, I ended up hurting a lot of people too.. so in case you haven’t already gathered from the title, I’m coming back to this with an apology. With an open letter to those that I’ve unintentionally hurt while I was hurting..

To the people I’ve hurt while I was hurting,

Everyone has been hurt in life, it’s human nature. Anyone who says that they’ve been through life and never got hurt, is a liar. Pure and simple. But does that give us the right to inflict hurt on others, whether we mean it or not? Of course it doesn’t. I don’t know why we do it, but we tend to end up pushing away and hurting those who love us, because of the pain we feel, and therefore end up hurting ourselves more. SO whats the point? To everyone that I’ve pushed away, unappreciated, taken for granted, or hurt in any way in the past few months… I’m truly sorry.

I never intended to hurt those around me. I was at war with myself. With my own mental demons, and unfortunately, many that surrounded me, and many that I love became casualties of that war. I was broken. But even in a thousand pieces, I never mean’t to damage anyway and so, this post, is my sorry.

To my parents. When I didn’t love myself, you made sure that you loved me enough for the both of us. When I was bullied in school, when I was letting blades kiss my skin at early, heartbreaking, ages, when I didn’t quite fit in with the other kids, you were there. Every court appearance, every doctors appointment, every surgery, every parents evening.. you were there. In growing up, and finding myself, I have found that I’ve hurt you more than anyone. Something that I never intended to do and yet you still haven’t given up. You’re still here. I love you both more than you will ever know, and I’m sorry.

To my grandma. There is no one better than you. No one will ever compare or come close to you, at all. You were there through everything I ever went through. When I thought I’d be alone forever, you were there. Telling me that I didn’t need anyone. I had you. You were my best friend, and you still are. I’m sorry for always snapping when all you’ve ever done is try to help me recreate my life and get better. Thank you for loving me when I’ve given you every reason not to. I’m sorry.

To my ex girlfriend. I’m sorry for not knowing how to love. I’m sorry for caring what people think. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the wall that I built around my heart in order to stop anyone getting in, because I didn’t feel enough for anyone. I didn’t feel enough for me. Thank you for the countless nights that you spent holding me, while tears trickle down my face, and I’m begging for this pain to just stop. For this life to end. Thank you for finding me, just when I needed you. Thank you for showing me that I can be loved, that I am capable of giving and receiving love. Thank you for giving me courage, and thank you for trying to lift my self esteem. Thank you for being the best friend that I needed. Thank you for teaching me everything that you don’t even know you taught me. Thank you. I’m so sorry for the hurt that I caused you while I was hurting. It wasn’t that you weren’t enough, it was that I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough for me and I pushed you away. I shouldn’t have done that, especially when all you wanted to do was to help, but I never wanted you to fix me. I wanted you to hold me, to catch me, and to stand by me, while I fixed myself however, I will always be grateful for the things that you have taught me, and the memories that you have given me, and the sense of actually being worthy of something that you gave me. I’m so sorry for everything that went wrong in the last 6 months, from the things that I could have fixed, to the the things that I couldn’t. Thank you for loving me and showing me what that feels like.

To my ‘old’ friends. I’m a selfish person. I’m not going to deny that, I am, and I know it’s hard for you to believe but I did appreciate you and I do miss you at times. You may not have given me the friendships that I needed, or told me what I wanted to hear, but you gave me the friendships that you had and you told me what I needed to hear, and I’m sorry for rejecting both those things. I’m sorry for the nasty things that left my mouth and my fingertips in fits of anger. I’m sorry that we may never see the true potential that each of us can grow into. I’m sorry that we may not be able to look across a table at our weddings, or baby showers and see one one another sat there, smiling back. I’m sorry that we promised each other forever, not knowing that time changes everything. I’m sorry for making you feel your friendship wasn’t enough. It was. It was just me that wasn’t enough. I miss you both from the absolute bottom of my heart and I love you both. More than you will ever know. I’m so sorry.

I’m in the process of healing. I’m recovering. I’ve pushed a lot of people away, just so I could jump the nest, spread my own wings and learn how to fly. I’m not there yet.. I can just about make it from branch to branch, but I’m getting there.. slowly. I’ve shut a lot of people out so that I could be alone and allow myself to go completely off of the rails. I’ve lost near enough everything, but I have experienced freedom. I’ve also hurt a lot of people along the way, while I was hurting and trying to tape my heart back together. I was simply a walking disaster. A time bomb waiting to explode, but my weakness or brokenness should not have caused you pain, so for that, I am truly sorry.

Please forgive me.





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Straight Pride

I’m sure I’ve written a post about this before, but I feel like I need to do it again, and I will do it every single year that it needs to be written, until people realise why they don’t have straight pride. Why straight pride does not exist. Why it just isn’t important.

The amount of times I’ve heard ‘You get a whole month for pride! Why don’t we get just one day?!’. I’ll tell you why you don’t get just one day. Because even a month isn’t enough justice for the fight that the LGBT+ community are forced to fight everyday.

Pride isn’t about drag queens, and streets dressed to the nines in all colours of the rainbow. It’s about the remembrance of the lives that have been lost in hate crimes. Police raids. The lives that have been lost, for fighting for our rights.

Pride is about fighting for our rights, and not our right for a marriage certificate, but our right to exist in this world. The right to show our partners affection in public without fear of being met with a sea of stares. The right to just be who we are, without being met by persecution and judgement.

Pride is about all the kids I watched take off their pride stickers, hide their pride flags and scrub mercilessly at the face paint on their face, on the train home so they don’t get jumped. It’s about how we should be allowed to go into an LGBT+ bar, a safe space meant for our community, without having to worry about being on the news the following day because of a massacre that took place.

Pride is about how our events got bombed last year. How there’s protesters with signs, telling us that we’re wrong. That we shouldn’t exist. That our existence, is an abomination to human nature.

Pride was not born out of our need to celebrate being who we are but instead to fight for our right to exist with persecution, so, instead of making jokes and wondering why there isn’t a straight pride movement, just be damn thankful that you don’t need one.

Pride is about the remembrance of those who died fighting our fight. A fight that we continue on, in their legacy.



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Focus On Your Own Happiness

I’ll be perfectly honest, my mental health hasn’t been on top form recently but that is entirely my fault. I absolutely hate the fact that I have to rely on medication for happiness so in a spur of the moment decision, I decided to just stop taking them.. yeah.. don’t do that. The amount of nights, my girlfriend has had to deal with me crying over something ridiculously small is a joke, so I think it’s safe to say that I’m most definitely going to keep taking them regularly.. Not only to help my mental health get better but to also give my girl some time off from dating a damn onion!

Speaking of my girlfriend though, last night was a weird night, and she had to deal with me being sad over nothing again, and she said something that has not stopped playing over in my head since she said it.

One of the things I love about her is how simply realistic she is. She sugarcoats nothing and just says it how it is and I love that. I would much rather someone did that than just tell me what I want to hear.

She essentially just sat down next to me and told me what I already knew. She told me that I put other peoples happiness before my own way too much which is true, I do that a lot. I put my own happiness and energy into making other people happy, and in the end, I only end up getting hurt, and my happiness ends up in the firing line. She also said that I should start putting my happiness first and do whats best for me and what makes me happy and that struck me, because no one has ever said that before. I always get the usual ‘Oh, its so nice that you put everyone before yourself!’, rather than someone telling me that I should myself first for once.

Another way what she said struck me, is that I never understand why I’m no ones first choice, but after the conversation that her and I had last night, I realised the reason for that. No one ever puts me first because by putting everyone first, I’ve taught them that I come second and that’s not how it should be.

This life is my life, and no one else is going to live it except me, so why can’t I live it according to how I want to? Why can’t I live it in a way that makes me happy?

There’s so many things that this girl has taught me since she’s come into my life and she doesn’t even know how much she’s helped me realise some stuff I should have realised a long time ago, and how much she’s turning me into a better person without even realising.. not only do I want to be a better person for her, but I want to be a better person for myself and no one else has ever made me have that realisation before, so a huge thank you to her..

From this point onwards, my happiness is coming first, and yeah, there will be days when I’m sad but from this minute forwards, it won’t be every single day like it has been. I’m just going to live every day with a smile on my face, and if I can’t change the situation in 5 minutes, then I’m not going to bother getting worried about it.


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We’re Not Cars. (Potential Trigger Warning)

People seem to have the misconception that once you’re discharged from counselling or any type of therapy that you’re suddenly better. Like the psychologist or doctor just snaps their fingers and you’re fine over night but that’s not how it works at all. 

When your cars broken, you take it to the mechanic, he repairs it and you get it back good as new and perfect again. A lot of people think that happens with humans too but we’re not cars. We can’t go in, get a quick fix up and come out again. It takes years and years of hardwork, dedication and relapse. 

I was discharged from CAMHS (Child and Adolesent Mental Health Services) when I hit 18. I was hurting myself less than before and sometimes I would go weeks without doing it and they felt that I was ready to face the world without them. Was that a good decision on their behalf? I don’t know but they felt that they had done all they could do for me and that’s as much as anyone could ask for. 

There’s still days when I feel like there’s no point, there’s still nights when I fall asleep streaming tears into my pillow. There’s still times when my adreneline and endorphins crave the pain I once voluntarily gave myself on a regular basis and I still have to take my medication as I did before.

But then there’s days when I find myself smiling like I did before everything and everyone happened. There’s days when I let people get close to me and actually let them touch me now. There’s days where the only pain I give myself are accidents when I’m clumsy and the only sleepless nights I get are when I really want to finish an episode of TOWIE before I go sleep (I know, please don’t judge me). 

Recovery doesn’t happen overnight. There’s ups, there’s downs.. it’s like being on a goddamn rollercoaster sometimes but you will get there. 

One of the hardest things that I ever had to learn was that I was worth recovery and it’s something that takes constant work, every single day. Somedays, I love myself, and someday’s I don’t but every day I try to and as long as I try that’s what’s important. 

People just seem to forget that we’re not cars. We need constant fixing. 

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We Get It, You’re Gay.

Everytime I write a post about LGBT+ rights, I always feel like ‘Should I post this?’, ‘Is it worth it?’. I’ve heard so many times from people at school, and in college that ‘Youre gay, we get it’ and I recluse back into a shell of my former self-consious self and leave it in my drafts folder.
I don’t even know where to start other than I’m sorry. I’m sorry if any part of my work felt bombarding, like it was in your face, like it was almost excessive. I never meant it to be that way. I never intended to force my sexuality in your face but in another way, it’s not really within your right to police what I say, what I write, what I do. You’re disillusions of entitlement over that concept are a joke.

If you think that you have dealt enough with my gay, then I dare to take a minute to step into my rainbow confinement. Unlike yourself, I am reminded of my minority, my identity at every waking moment. I don’t do it because I want to, I do it because I am forced to and I really don’t think you get that so let me let you into my world for a minute. 

I am forced to face my identity when my male gay best friend clasps his boyfriends hand down the street and rather than a display of affection, it is percieved as a political statement, met with numerous teenage girls, ‘Ahhhhh’-ing at them as they stroll by, in the same way that you would to a newborn puppy. You don’t seem to realise how dehumanising that can be. They are not a spectacle but just two people in love. 

I am forced to face my identity when LGBT+ people are shot and killed in a nightclub and I am too scared to hold my (ex) girlfriends hand in public, in case we are both met with the same kind of violence or verbal abuse.

I am forced to face my identity when girls got boyfriends and no one battered and eyelid, but when I got my first girlfriend in school, I suddenly wasn’t invisible anymore. People I didn’t even know or rarely spoke to, felt that it was within their right to pass judgement about my relationship or gossip among themselves. 

I am forced to face my identity when people ask about my ex-boyfriends, even though I’ve never had one or ask me which boy I fancy. They choose to engulf me into this heteronormality that leaves me feeling invisible and invalidated. It would take a several rainbow flags, multi-coloured streamers and a stereo playing Madonna, everytime I arrived somewhere, in order for my sexuality to be acknowledged.

I am forced to face my identity when I am forced to campaign for LGBT+ media representation because every character from in every media outlet from books to films, unless specifically perceived as the stereotyped ‘gay best friend’, or used as comedic effect, are heterosexual. If you think that my sexuality is thrown in your face then you seem to forget that I am unable to turn on the televison, open my laptop, or scroll down facebook on my phone without being bombarded by your sexuality. But when I do find out about LGBT+ issues? It’s something about a young transgender girl who felt compelled to stop her beating heart because of what she was forced to face everyday, because LGBT+ teens are three times as more likely to end their lives, twice as likely to be assaulted in everyday life and 1 in 12 transgender people are murdered. 

Now do you see the thousands of ways that daily, I am made to face my difference? There are constant reminders that my community has continued persecution for who they are and it hurts. The worst part is, I feel that I am unable to vent my frustration for fear of coming off at ‘too gay’ for them, or risk feeling like I’m rubbing it in their face. But that’s the only way that we can destroy this prejudice towards my community. Talk about it. 

I wish these problems would go away overnight, but I know they won’t so that’s why I continue to speak up. If not for myself, then for the kids who live in fear of the walk to school everyday, for my friends who live in fear and hide who they are in their own homes so that they don’t get rejected by the very same people who gave them life, for the kids who are completely oblivious that there are more genders and identities than just ‘male and female’. I speak up for everyone who has ever laid in their bed at night, tears streaming their face, and lacking all hope of life ever getting better.

Which is why, when people say to me, ‘Yes, You’re gay. We get it!’, I can’t help but think, yes I am but no… you don’t get it at all. 

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Beauty and the Beast – Film Review

In the past, I’ve held back from watching Disney’s live action remakes of old classics because I didn’t want to see them ruin the films for what they were so when I heard that they were remaking one of my favourite Disney classics, I was a little aprehensive but decided to give it a go, especially since one of my favourite actresses was playing the lead, and I was pleasantly suprised at how much I loved it. 

When I heard that Emma Watson actually sung in the film, I wasn’t too sure what to make of that fact as I had never actually heard her sing before since I’d only seen her in Harry Potter and Perks of Being a Wallflower before she trotted off to university but she really put her own unique spin on the songs and I loved it! She played the part of Belle beautifully, with a fiesty feministic attitude however also showing a sensitive side to the character when it comes to the love of her father.

Not only does the film recreate the original songs from the classic but there are also a couple more brand new ones that have been written specifically for the film which are fantastic within themselves and I honestly can’t wait to get my hands on the soundtrack! 

The special effects, the acting, the musical numbers.. it was all 10x better than I imagined it would be and I’m so happy that I made the decision to go and see it at my local cinema, in fact, as soon as it comes out on disk, I’m sure to be one of the first to grab it! If you have the chance, I highly recommend that you go and give it a watch. 

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Do You Know Who Your Real Parents Are?

This post has been sat in my drafts for a fair while now and I’ve had my mouse hovering over the post button so many times but after a conversation that happened with someone a few days ago, I just thought screw it, and finally clicked that publish button..

Anyone who is adopted, fostered, been in the care system or anything else inbetween will know exactly what I’m talking about when I say that this question is an absolute pain in the ass to hear from someone who knows nothing about what it’s like to be in one of those categories that I mentioned previously.

Putting your genitals anywhere near someone else’s who happens to be of the opposite sex and creating a life does not automatically make you a parent. It gives you no right whatsoever to call yourself a parent. Perhaps it does legally, but morally? Not at all.

My real mother is the woman who took time off work to look after me, who stayed up countless nights while I refused to sleep as a child and simply cried until I had no tears left to cry, and put me back in my cot every single time I did my best Spider-Man impression and tried to climb out. She’s the woman who marched straight into each school I was at, and stood my ground when I was being bullied and run across a busy road, in order to reprimand a girl who had previously tried to thrust me into oncoming traffic. The woman who picked me up from school every single Wednesday in Middle School and drove me to my Physio-therapy appointments and later accompanied me to my CAMHS appointment. Following that, my real mother is the woman who would sit with my teenage self and hold me while I cried nearly every night, just as she had done with me as a baby, only this time I wasn’t shedding tears because I was hungry or because I was tired.

My real mother is the woman who taught me that as a woman I am no one’s lesser and in fact we are all equal. She taught me how to be patient when I feel like I don’t want to, she taught me how to be strong when I feel that I am at my weakest and she taught me that being kind to others, even when they may not have shown you the same courtesy isn’t a bad thing at all.

My real father is the man who would sit on the end of my bed and give me pep talk nearly evening. He’s the man who would put on a brave face in front of me, and break his own heart in private. He showed me just how a man should treat a lady simply by loving my mother with everything within him and I couldn’t ask for more than that. My real father is the man who makes me laugh when I feel that it’s the last thing I want to do in the world. He would go away for extensive times with work, but when he came back, it would be like he never left. When I was off school ill, he would always stop off at the petrol station on the way home and come into my bedroom with a tube of Fruit Pastilles or Smarties in hand for me, much to my mother’s dismay.

My real father is the man who taught me that it’s okay to put yourself before others, and that its okay to have high standards for yourself. He taught me that no matter what age you reach, it’s perfectly okay to be childish sometimes, and that everyone deserves a laugh no matter what age you are. He taught me which battles I should fight and which are best left alone however, he always taught me to fight for what I believe in. He taught me that acceptance is important, and although we are all different, we must all live in harmony with one another.

So, I guess the point that I’m trying to make, is that these two people are my real parents. They are the people that raised me and made me into the young woman that I am today. They are the people that backed me all way in whatever I wanted to do, and even though I changed my mind every five seconds in what I wanted to pursue as a career, they were still there, right behind me the whole way. Not pushing me, but there with open arms ready to catch me if ever I fell.

I’m 18 years old now. It’s not like I’m 7 years old anymore, sitting up at night asking my mother why my biological parents didn’t want me, spending my younger years wondering if I wasn’t good enough. I don’t do that anymore because I don’t need anything to do with either of them. They didn’t spend hours in the garden teaching me to ride a bike, they didn’t spend every week down at the doctors doing speech therapy because I couldn’t talk at 5 years old, they didn’t teach me how to read. My mother and father did that and I got pretty damn good at it and now can’t put a book down. I got through my first heartbreak without my biological parents, I got through the years of bullying without them and I joined my dream career without them. I did all that with the help and support of my mother and father. I didn’t need them back then and I sure as hell don’t need nor want them now. I have a great job without them, I’m going to get married without them and I’m going to have a beautiful family without them because there isn’t a damn thing they can ever teach me about raising and loving a child.

So, next time someone decides to have the audacity to ask me who my real parents are, they will just get redirected to this post. My real parents are, and always will be, the two people who raised me and I will forever be grateful to either of them for turning me into the young woman that I am today and that I will soon become.


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