Friday, 16 September 2016

my friday favourite

Fridays are for frivolity. Oh yes, all the frivolity.

Since I worked as a checkout girl at Waitrose (gah being a 16 year old and not a partner when the bonus used to be at least 20%) I've had a rule about not studying on a Friday night. I think I can remember only once when I broke this rule, oh group study, bleurgh!

Oh how I love going out on a Friday night with two days to recover or coming home for Bean cuddles. Tonight I shall be at home hopefully with fish and chips and maybe a glass of Lillet Rose. Ooo what are you up to? Are you with a Friday night rule?

Anyhoo, frivolity. Like many of you, I harbour a deep love of stationery, oh the beauty. I want it all. I've lusted after many beautiful personalised notecards in the past. Oh Smythson, one day. But I just stumbled upon my new favourite. I'm not usually one for emojis but how I love a smiley poo, he make me giggle so.

And whilst I may not have my own home, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps? (I always told myself that my first present upon buying a flat would be a stationery delivery in one of those beautiful blue boxes). This lady, very much a rented lady, could stretch to a correspondence card or two, no?

Have you ordered from Papier before or do you have your own paper joy? Do tell. I promise I'll try to keep it secret!

I'm super excited about this weekend. I get to do some painting and create a few Potentially Motivating Penguins for you lovely people. I can't believe so many of you have contacted me about them. I'm almost proud of myself! Who knows, this time next weekend I may have myself a little Etsy shop! Oh I cannot wait for tonight!

Wednesday, 14 September 2016

i used to be a wedding blogger

I used to be a wedding blogger.
It seems so long ago,
Now I sit and cry all day,
Oh quite the tale of woe!
My new mantra?!?

Sorry the woe is strong with me today! The fear of change is gripping me tightly and forcing me to run to the loos and have a quick sob every so often. I will not cry in front of my colleagues! Especially those who might be rather judgmental. I'm not sure I could cope with their eyes and thoughts right now.  

Starting up this little ol' blog again has made me think about my roots. The Bean and I have only attended two weddings this year and we will soon celebrate 6 years of marriage. It seems like yesterday we were giggling at the surreal scene of us more than knee deep in snow. 

I realise I never really spoke about my wedding. Am I too far gone from the wedding scene to talk about weddings again? I'm not sure if you would want to hear about it or even if I have anything thoughtful about that day. 

However, I know I still have all the thoughts surrounding the emotional aspects of weddings and marriage but is this old lady flogging a dead horse?

Perhaps each Wednesday I can reveal a little Wedit - a wedding edit - of the prettiest of the pretty baubles which have caught my eye over the past few weeks. 

I have to say there have been some beautiful dresses perfect for a bride on The Outnet recently. 

Oh yes from Alexander McQueen!

Tuesday, 13 September 2016


Thank you so for your kind words here and on Instagram. It feels nice to be interacting with people again. Although I definitely need to find a way to bring you all back here, but early days anna, try not to be sad that people aren't flocking back to a blog that effectively died 3 years ago!

But really thank you. Please know that I know I'm not an artist. Oh my, art lessons at school were certainly not my forte. Art homework was my nemesis. My old art teacher used to mark our work with a sadistic level of passive aggression. Satisfactory (just) was his favourite remark on my attempts.

So no, I'm not an artist, I am an proud (well not quite, I'm not great with the confidence although you have bolstered me!) attemptist. Yes, an attemptist is what I be. If that means I can create something that will make someone smile and then in turn support a special charity which makes me smile, hells yeah, I'm going to attempt that!

And so to Etsy, methinks, do any of you have any experience with them, could you offer me any advice?

Anyhoo, back to yesterday. I was hoping to resolve a few issues yesterday but alas no. Although "things" may have started to move in the right direction. However as I think more about my situation I am beginning to worry that getting what I want is not necessarily what I need. Alas getting what I want would be the only way to test if it is what I need. Gah. Life, eh?! Sorry to be dreadfully cryptic, the fear of jinxing the exciting possibilities seems rather powerful. So I shall wait a little longer for things to develop.

Yet, yesterday was not all sads, Bean and I went to the Sherlock Holmes themed immersive experience, The Game's Afoot, at Madame Tussauds. A combination of Punchdrunk lite and an escape room. 5 suspects for three murders and you are tasked with whodunnit! Actually a lot of fun, albeit a bit too busy and thus you couldn't really talk to some of the suspects but fear not both Bean and I separately came to the same correct conclusion! It's a little pricey but the set is beautiful and the actors are very good (a little hammy - but what more would you expect!) A lovely little night out. I must get back into trying escape room. They make me smile.

They make me smile like my little penguins. Perhaps I shall sit in the garden and try and create a few more? Hello Indian Summer! I might have a few more to show you tomorrow!

But first I'm off to give these two monsters a cuddle. These little foster kittens have lived with us since they were 3 days old and hopefully in the next couple of week we will be able to adopt them! They are fluffy and cute and silly. Purrfectly impurrfect.

Monday, 12 September 2016

Potentially Motivational Penguins

Hello Monday morning. 

Perhaps you'd like a little joy to entertain your trawl through all those emails?

I spoke about my instagram in my last post. I'll admit it's been slim pickings for the past few months. I've barely had the energy to scroll through the happy faces and exquisitely styled images leave alone actually create something myself.

However, I have created a few things and rather love a little watercolour especially after attending a little workshop at Quill London with the amazing Emma Block.

Anyhoo, the hospital I attend for therapy asks different units, wards and services to create art for a space on a rotating basis. So I tried to create something. 131 little anatomically incorrect baby penguins with words helping and hindering my little brain. How I enjoyed spending time focused on something which actually brought me joy. What made things slightly more satisfying was that someone has offered to buy all of the little beasts. All 131 of them! Craziness! 

They night not be much but perhaps they are something. What do you think?

So I had a thought.

Might some of you like a Potentially Motivational Penguin to cheer up your life? I have been branching out into other birds so how about a Fairly Motivational Flamingo?! Hmm, which other animals could be motivational?

Perhaps I could create something to make someone else, maybe you, smile and in turn I could use those pennies to donate to a charity very close to my heart. Which might make my brain and heart a little happier.

Would you be interested in something from anna and the draw(r)ings?!

Sunday, 11 September 2016


I feel as if I've been writing to you (if there still is a you, so maybe just me at this point) every day since February.

So many nights I've lain awake with my thoughts racing, I found trying to create a narrative for this blog a little calming, Using those thoughts, reworking and refining allowed me to sleep. I admit that perhaps it caused me more problems that it solved, perhaps prolonging my insomnia but a girl has to get through the night some how. Trust me when I say it's infinitely better than pacing for hours trying to stop yourself from running outside and throwing yourself in front of a train.

So here I am, again.

I miss blogging. I miss people. I miss life.

I can see my slow decline, I can mark it through my "life" on instagram, Sad, but true. I can see that I have stopped wearing my "hello world, perhaps you should notice me" glasses (see below - although the smile looks a little forced at least I was trying) and stopped attempting to take pretty/thoughtful pictures. I have retreated. Cocooning myself in nothingness. I have put up a veil of sarcasm and hidden behind the sick role and stopped people getting in. 

The last time we spoke was just before my birthday. It was a delicious 3 days of fun and frivolity. Perhaps I will write about it soon. I would recommend what I did as a perfect jaunt to London. Afternoon tea, brunch and flowers. Oh it must be written about, despite the rain and bitter cold, there was warmth in my fragile heart. 

Perhaps my return is timely, yesterday was World Suicide Prevention Day (a day I always fear and August was not kind) and tomorrow I may have to make a very important decision about my future treatment. 

So I may be back because I think I need to be but also, maybe, I have something to offer?

I have all the thoughts and perhaps none at the sane time. Oh the crippling lack of self worth!

I have a few ideas and Bean doesn't think they are ridiculous so maybe others won't either?

Speak to you soon, I hope,

Thursday, 11 February 2016

time to talk day 2016

Again, I'm a little too slow. I started writing this introduction last Thursday morning, thinking I would be home after therapy to finish and be part of Time to Talk Day.

Then 30 hours of work (over a couple of days!) later I got to bed and now it's Thursday again. My brain is very slow at the moment. I've just started a new drug and, well, the side effects are not delicious.

Shall I try, one more time?

It's Time to Talk.

So another day of talking. Mental wellness is something I think we almost take for granted. It's very difficult to quantify before illness arrives, because mental ill health can be incredibly insidious. It's part of it's clever arsenal of misery, to make you think you are not worthy of help and that if you just tried a little harder everything would be fine.  It's not just about being happy, it's about being safe and hopeful.

"the finest trick of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist"
Charles Baudelaire 

Why am I going to add my voice today?  Why am I going to reveal more, reveal something so intimate and painful?

I'm talking because despite everything, I still want to help people. I think I want to help myself. It's definitely why I'm still alive. Above all I do still want to help others. Others who don't have as loud a voice as mine, and for the most part my voice is incredibly weak.

I'm going to talk about my acute suicidal ideation. We don't talk about suicide, it's something thought to be incredibly shameful and that it will never affect us. I'm not saying it's a nice thing to talk about. Oh, gosh no. It's hideous. However, if your head constantly tells you, that you are "pathetic and useless" and seductively invites you to sit on the edge of life and death it seems incredibly rational. Oh readers, it is not rational. Even though, every moment of every day I feel like a failure. However for young men it's a big killer. For me, I have a lot of help right now but it's just not the case for many.

I want to reiterate what others have said, that suicide isn't selfish. It's not anyone's real first choice. 

So if you need help, please try and focus on that sliver of hope, perhaps it's not even you holding on to it. There is always hope my darling. If you can't see it right now, find that person who wants you to have hope. If you can't love or even like yourself right now, someone out there wants you to live. Perhaps they are your best friend, parent or lover. Or perhaps they are me, no-one deserves to feel the way you feel right now, you do exist and the whilst the feelings you are experiencing are real, they are not you. You can be more than your illness. You can keeping on trying. You can survive.

If you're in the UK, call 999 if you feel you can't stop yourself from hurting yourself. I urge you to give yourself one more chance. It's bloody scary to feel be on the edge and whilst I don't think A&E is the best place for someone acutely suicidal, it is at least a safe place. I so want you to be safe.

Maybe 999 seems too much, could you try and call the Samaritans on 116 123 (yeah I don't understand how that's a phone number either!). Even if you don't say anything, perhaps it will give you a moment longer to think.

And if you are in touch with your local mental health services, I know they don't seem the most kind at times, and that continuity of care is incredibly disjointed but do try and call their crisis line.


Perhaps no-one will read this - perhaps I'm hoping that when I need to try and stop myself again I'll read this and focus on the hope. I find it hard to direct these empathetic feelings towards myself, I know others are the same. This is unashamedly for me too.

So this was my January. I'm not sure why I'm writing this down. Perhaps it will make me understand myself a little more. I find I can express myself more clearly. Perhaps I'll learn something. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...

TRIGGER WARNING, please don't read this if you are teetering on the edge. Call 999 or the Samaritans or anyone, just don't read this. Anna if you are close to the edge the next time you read this, call Bean, call 999. Please don't try and take your life again. I know you don't think you are but you are so loved. Please sweetpea, just try to talk to someone.

Oh how I was going to write.

I was going to write every day and I was, I was, I was.

Slowly each day that passed would allow me to start to write again and I would find joy. I am under no illusion that I am a writer but I do recall a time where I enjoyed trying to write. Trying to rebuild a little of my life I used to enjoy. I really loved being part of a caring community of bloggers who became my friends.

Days passed. I went to therapy, I went to work and Thursday came.

Those days before I felt I'd been screaming for help (albeit metaphorically) but at the same time I was pretending I was fine. 

That morning, after Bean had left for work, I took out the hundreds of pills I'd bought over the past few days and I sat down on my bed.

Those little pills and I looked at one another for a time.

My plan crystallised. I should take some tablets now, pretend everything is fine whilst I attend my therapy and after Bean knows I've been "good" I can go to a hotel and end my life.

So I started to take the pills, by the time I'd caught the train I'd taken 80 pills.

Schadenfraude is a "funny" thing. Only the day before I'd sat moments before Waterloo East as a young lady pulled the alarm as we moved into the station. I'd bemoaned the fact she chose to do this just before the train stopped. I didn't see her set off the alarm but she was in my carriage and I could see her, I couldn't understand that even after she stopped the train she asked no-one for help. It baffled me. I arrived at work late and indignant.

So as I stood on the train to the hospital to attend therapy I started to feel rather queasy. Even in my slightly confused and nauseated state, I remembering giggling at the irony of the situation in which I found myself. Luckily for the other passengers I managed to contain my stomach and my arms. I left the train and found myself in hospital.

Hospital is meant to be a safe place and I'm embarrassed to say I made it unsafe for my fellow patients. I was overcome by the toxins in my body and they quickly saw that I was under the influence of something.

And so I was marched to A&E and I waited to be seen, alone. In that time I took another 80 odd pills. It was then I started to feel incredibly unwell and promptly vomited over matron. Sorry sir.

There I sat. I refused to let them call Bean. I refused treatment. I so wanted to die. I needed to die. Life had/has become so unbearable.

As the hours passed I realised I wouldn't be able to steal myself away (no matter how much I tried to slip away), being manhandled by security guards whilst being threatened with being sectioned is never nice.

I'd thought that death would come that day. I was so angry with myself, again wasting the time of the NHS. The registrar did a great job of scaring me. They kept taking my blood and showing me my results. My blood was already acidotic and my fear increased. It has never been my intention to die from liver failure.The pills have always been my ill-conceived backup plan and not my primary want.

And thus I relented, I allowed them to treat me.

I stayed in hospital for another three days. Hoping that my I hadn't ruined my liver. The words, "massive overdose" were bandied about by the staff and thus I was watched constantly. At least I managed to escape being admitted into a psychiatric ward - although perhaps that would have been good for me?

Each day I feel as if my mind is torturing me. (Note I know it is not real torture, having met patients who have been tortured I would not dare equate my situation to theirs but I cannot think of another way to describe the constant barrage of hatred which bounces around my head.) It slips out sometimes and it always surprises people, for this incarnation of me (and it is me - I can't hide from that) is a terrible person. And yet, this is the person I have to deal with all the time and people are surprised that it distresses me so? I know you would feel the same. Just imagine how it feels to be verbally devastated by someone and that's how my brain treats me, every day.

I think it would be so much easier if I just knew I wanted to be dead. It's just seems that a I still have a little bit of hope still inside me. The little sliver which makes me go to work, to therapy and try and be a real person. It's the hope that hurts. Death seems like paradise (albeit in my head that is nothing - death is absolutely nothing). To continue with the thoughts, the fear of being admitted to a psych ward, to never live the life Bean and I both wanted. The torture seems incredibly real and oppressive.

So whilst I talk, I know that others can't or won't. I appreciate this is an incredibly personal moment in my life and that many people might think that it's incredibly inappropriate to discuss this publicly. However the fact we don't talk is the reason people think they have no other choice. I'm so lonely. It's not a physical loneliness. I'm very lucky to be cared for by many people but it's a mental loneliness. I don't want anyone to feel the way I do. I wouldn't want to burden them with my thoughts of self-loathing and self-destruction. It just seems a rather cruel thing to do.

So, whilst you may be lonely, you are not alone. These are not good thoughts. (I know good and bad are the wrong words - according to psychology - but I really think they are right for this moment.) There is something wrong if you feel like suicide is the only choice. Please try and talk to someone, I would say talk to me, but right now I'm so very unreliable, I can barely concentrate long enough to write a sentence, leave alone read one, so if you write to me (and please do because I will respond eventually) please talk to someone that same day. Please.

It's my birthday this weekend. I'm nervous. Bean has organised fun but I'm scared I will ruin things. If not this weekend but in the days following. I know life is good for many people but it just seems as if it will be too hard for my little soul. I don't want to waste any more of Bean's time.

What will the next few days bring?

I hope I don't find myself in hospital. I hope I can enjoy my birthday. I hope there are all the flowers.

I hope I can connect with a few more people through this blog. I'm trying and for now that has to be enough.

Monday, 11 January 2016

Cards are Cuddles continued

Oh squee. You kind souls. Cards are Cuddles is definitely go!

I'd forgotten how much I love sending post (and receiving it!) I'd forgotten I'd sent myself a card and it was just so wonderful to come home to exciting colours on the doormat! (Oh I'm a sad, old sausage!).

I'm certainly not forgetting you all. Your emails and comments have made me smile.

Oh smiles are in short supply in my heart right now. (Sorry Bean, you try so hard, I'm just not good).

Trying to find that certain something. Hmm what could it actually be?

I'm so sorry I've have't got back to replying to all of you. What with work (oh sitting in front of a computer all day entering and cleaning data is not always thrilling - no really?!) and then being a hospital patient three times a week trying to get my brain not want my body dead is bloody exhausting. I know it doesn't sound like it should be but I'm incredibly surprised as to how the last couple of months are wearing me down so.

Crumbs, I'm almost in tears just thinking about next week, that life's endless cycle just continues. *Sigh*. Yet, why on earth do I think anyone wants to hear about said woes? It does seem to border on the narcissistic. I'm not sure why I still want to write a blog but I really do. Since I've been gone I've really missed the community, the writing and my attempts at creativity. 

Dear readers, will you continue to join me whilst I try and work out what I'm trying to do?

I do miss some of the wedding chat but definitely want to talk about mental health. Oh who knows really. I need to get back into a routine, 

Perhaps writing something everyday, about something light or heavy would be a start. So that shall be my goal this week, Something. Just something.

I hope you enjoy.

Cuddles x