forward or onward movement toward a destination.

I watched three episodes of Peep Show this afternoon. This past month I've read two books. I've only cried once this week.

Almost two months ago, I sat in the waiting room for my last CBT session. My therapist was late (as per) and I was thinking a lot about how it was definitely my last session out of circumstance rather than by choice. But it was my last session nonetheless. I'd done five months (admittedly on and off) of therapy, and I didn't feel how I wanted to feel. Or maybe, how I thought I was supposed to feel.

I wanted a cure. I was also hoping that by trying to deal with my anxiety, that it would then have a domino effect on the depression. It didn’t. And so I was frustrated and angry and felt as though I’d failed.

But then last week I found myself seven seasons deep into Peep Show – which I know sounds incredibly inconsequential, so just bear with me.

Four, actually maybe even two, months ago I couldn’t concentrate. On anything. As someone who thrives on their alone time, I was at a total loss. I couldn’t read a book, I couldn’t watch a film and there was no way I could keep up with a new TV show. Broadchurch bypassed me, I was two seasons behind on Made in Chelsea, and I hadn’t made use of my Netflix subscription in weeks. I would rather lie in bed, totally consumed by my own thoughts, because I was unable to bring myself to do anything but.

So the sudden ability to just sit down and enjoy – and I use the term enjoy loosely here, because is enjoy really the word for Peep Show – a few episodes seemed miraculous to me.

I’ve started reading again too. Back in April I finished my first book in months and, as soon as I put it down, I burst into tears. Since then, I’ve finished five. Five whole books. Something that seemed incomprehensible a few months ago.

And of course progress isn’t linear. There are mornings when I wake up and know that the rest of the day will be a struggle. That I’ll have to take the day an hour at a time, and fight back tears on the tube, and count down the hours until I can go back to bed. But there are also mornings when I wake up and think about what I might get for breakfast on my way to work, and read my book on the tube, and don’t feel the need to get straight into bed come 7pm.

So I’m clinging on to these little things. Because it may not be linear, but maybe progress is finishing a book and wanting to pick up another, and going six out of seven days without crying, and sleeping through the whole night.

And maybe I need to be ok with that. 

Things from August

I'd like to say that August was a welcome break from the mad rush that was July. I'd give quite a lot to be able to say that, but it wasn't. It's as though I've accidentally sat on the remote, unintentionally set my brain to fast forward and have now lost said remote and can't set it back to normal speed.

With that in mind, and around four other posts waiting patiently in my drafts, I think I'll keep this one quick.



I moved into my new room in London, started to get settled, then found out I have to move again. I'm now in the process if finding somewhere new that I can move into the next two weeks. Who wants an easy life anyway? 

High School Musical 

Yes, you read that correctly. Way back at the start of the month (believe me, it feels like a lifetime ago now) I spent a Friday evening watching a screening of High School Musical at The Clapham Grand, with prosecco, popcorn and whole lot of singing. Thanks to Jazmine for organising and Michelle, Amber and Emily for being fantastic Wildcat company. 

Cursed Child

Almost a year after booking my tickets, I finally got to see Cursed Child. Whilst I wasn't completely blown away when reading the play, actually watching it was a whole different experience. Would 100% recommend.


My August weekends consisted of friends visiting, eating our way around London (hello all of the crepes), visiting the Design Museum, heading back home for the bank holiday, birthdays, and ice cream walks. 

I'm ready for a nap now. 


Things from July

So I moved to London. Might as well start with the big news, right? 

Long story short I had a somewhat mentally draining June, full to the brim with being busy at work and interviews and rejections and hospital appointments and anxiety. I left my job at the end of the month, then three days later got offered a new one. 

In the space of a month I then went on holiday, found somewhere to live, started a new job, moved my life to London for four months, and spent most of it completely exhausted. 

But let's start at the begining.

Dodgy disposable shot of the Trevi Fountain

Dodgy disposable shot of the Trevi Fountain


The day after my 'congratulations new job news' I headed off to Rome armed with my best friend, my best SPF30 and my best attempt at packing light to date. Three dresses, a jumpsuit and two pairs of shoes. I've finally nailed it.

My first answer to everyone who has asked me how it was has been, "Hot." Because it was. Very. 

We did the expected and visited the Colosseum and the Roman Forum and looked at the hoards of people taking selfies by the Trevi Fountain.

We also ate a lot of pasta and a lot of pizza and I took a lot of questionable photos on my disposable camera.

I'm really glad to have visited (and also ticked a first trip to Italy off my list) and now I can't wait to get myself to some of the greener / coastal parts of Italy too. I'm thinking Amalfi Coast next year. 

Roman Forum ft. a hot and sweaty me and some fences in the background

Roman Forum ft. a hot and sweaty me and some fences in the background


I've developed a bit of a thing for gardens lately. Probably something to do with my new found appreciation of the outdoors, but also the fact that there's going to be a cafe and somewhere to get a cup of tea at least every 20 minutes. At the very start of July, Charlotte and I spent an impromptu afternoon walking around Compton Acres, before heading off to Kew a week later. 

What started off as a cloudy morning turned into a beautifully warm day, which meant that what started as perfectly unburnt skin (I managed not to burn for the entirety of my trip to Rome) turned into very pink shoulder by the end of the day, despite having re-applied my Hawaiian Tropic constantly. 

and the rest

Once I'd finished eating all of the pasta and wandering round botanical gardens, I thought it might be a good idea to find somewhere to live. So I did. And then I started my new job, moved up to London and spent all of the days since then missing my cat. I'm here for the next four months, and after that?  I have no idea.


I also signed up for Laura's writing summer course – Don't be a writer, be a storyteller. It's a six week course (currently on week four) and it's all kinds of educational and inspiring and challenging. 





the act or instance of making or becoming different.


I used to think I was afraid of change. Six months of CBT has taught me, however, that what I'm actually scared of is the uncertainty that accompanies change (although that's another story for another time – really, it's currently saved in my drafts.)

This past month, my life has seen a lot of change. I left my job, got offered a new one, found a place to live, and started said new job, all in the space of 18 days. For months I'd been craving change. I needed something new, something different, something to shake off the uninvited black cloud that had been following me round for what felt like a lifetime.

Then it happened.

And now? Now I'm not really sure how to feel. I'm a mixture of terrified and excited and sad and apprehensive and a few more adjectives thrown in for good measure. But all of these feelings aren't trigged by the change itself, they stem from the uncertainty of leaving my comfort zone. And, although my comfort zone is a nice place full of naps and beds and cats, it was getting pretty limiting. 

Change is good, and if I keep telling myself that, I might start to believe it. Things change and people change and circumstances change, and that's ok. I've changed so much in the past couple of years, I can look back and read things back and struggle to recognise myself. On the outside, I probably look the same; minus a few lbs and a couple of inches off may hair. But I think nicer thoughts and I feel different things and, whilst I've found life more difficult, ultimately I'm pretty sure I've changed for the better.

Nothing stays the same. Not forever. Some things just change quicker and more drastically than others. And it might be scary, but I think it might be ok too. 




a polite expression of praise or admiration.

You know the warm feeling you get when someone compliments your new dress? I like to extend that feeling to other people. I tell people when I admire their outfits, and congratulate them on their achievements, and never think twice about doing so. Yet I – and by I, I definitely also mean we – rarely ever extend the same treatment to myself* (*ourselves). 

When you're feeling especially 'not enough', it can be hard to remember the things that make you 'more than enough'. I know this because it took me weeks to think of enough things take up more than an opening paragraph. But I also know that there are things. And it's about time we started complimenting ourselves. 

Things that I like

My freckles. During the winter months, I can almost forget that they're there. I suppose that's what comes with looking at the same face in the mirror every day. But in the Summer, they come out in full force, and every year I'm reminded how much I love them. How I really quite good at remembering things. Things like someone's favourite colour, an unimportant and not very interesting fact, what I was wearing on a specific day three months ago. Those sorts of things. My hair. 24 years later and I've finally started agreeing when people tell me they like it. Because so do I. Most days. My sense of humour. I'm not laugh out loud funny. My jokes leave leave a lot to be desired. But I'm quick, and I can muster up many a context based sarcastic comment. I amuse myself anyhow. My body. Yes, I said it. Not all of it. Definitely not all of it. But I wouldn't be sharing the above photos if I didn't like something about it, right? Loyalty. I feel like this is a weird one, but I was recently asked to describe myself in three words, and 'loyal' was one of them. If I like you, you're kind of stuck with me. I tend not to give up, and absolutely hate to disappoint. In fact, let's add reliability to the list too. I like to pretend I'm not one for star signs, but if I were? Well I'm such a Taurus. My intelligence. I may have given up on academia around the same time I gave up on my Journalism degree, but I've managed to keep the clever thing going to some extent. I like to learn new things, and I manage to have the odd intelligent thought every so often. And lastly, to quote Maurice Moss – “I like being weird. Weird's all I've got. That and my sweet style.” – I can put together a pretty decent outfit, and enjoy myself whilst doing it. 

And there we have it. It may be hard to always like myself, but it's doable. Even if I could only come up with nine reasons for now.