A Letter From 25 Year-old Me to Today’s Me

Hey you,

It’s five years on and I am still here despite some of your efforts. The world isn’t too bad you know. My scars have faded but not yet gone and my hair is slowly recovering from when you assaulted it with bleach and dyes too numerous to list.

I am still unhappy with my body, but instead of trying to change, I am now content and accepting of my dissatisfaction towards it. It may not be ideal but it works for me. You won’t always hate your scars. You won’t always get those looks and those questions because of them. And anyway, if you did, your sass and otherwise awesomeness out-ways your struggles, addictions and past. At the moment, I am on a mission to demonstrate that I am more than my self-destruction. I will not fall into the self-fulfilling prophecy of self-doubt and the gaping black hole where my self-esteem should be. I know that at the moment you need all the validation and encouragement from others to see you through but that will change.

A lot will change actually. Five years is a long time. You might even be qualified as a doctor, but I won’t say for sure as I can’t pass on any spoilers. But what I can tell you is that you will have times when you fall back again, but you will make it through.

A word of advise though that I would like to pass on, alcohol is not your friend and most people do not want to be your enemy. Ain’t nobody got time fo dat! 

I am so proud of you for giving life and medical school another shot, as both you and I know how much harder it is to pick yourself back up after having stumbled. There is no need to be embarrassed or ashamed, hold your head high and scream to everyone I FUCKING WELL DESERVE TO BE HERE! Because you do. We put the work in, and wether or not attempt two at uni succeeds, it will not reflect on your worth or potential.

Lots of love,

Older You xx


Finding a Box That Fits.

I’m having a Zoolander-like crisis.

I just don’t know who the hell I am.

I feel that by the age of 20, most people have an understanding of their sexuality. I’m still fucking confused.

I am still waiting for that day when I wake up and realise that I am X, Y or Z. I need someone to tell me if it is love I feel.

I think that I am attracted to women, but my brain questions “is that just because you have had bad experiences with men?”.

I know that I am attracted to men, drunkenly at least, but are my promiscuous behaviours in clubs just a way for me to feel that I am regaining some form of control when in the past I didn’t?

Perhaps I’m bisexual or just asexual. Please can someone enter my world and let me know! Heterosexual or homosexual or any other type of sexual I would be fine with. I want to find a true identity and a genuine romantic love.

I hope to not feel an outsider when my female friends talk about guys or a fraud when amongst the LGBTQ community. I need to start learning to be able to decipher my emotions and build a stable sense of self. I am going to invest my time into learning to trust my internal experiences and others so that in the future I will be able to have a healthy relationship.

Catching My Breath

I’ve started to run. Not far, not fast, not consistently, but more than I did before. As someone who has experienced panic attacks, I have realised that running was more challenging than it was before.

Not because I am unfit and carrying more weight surprisingly. It is my brain and it’s ability to panic that has tied lead weights to my ankles and bound my chest too tight. I am having to learn how to breathe again and become comfortable with a pounding chest and rapid breaths.

I had never thought this would be the challenge that I would face. But from this, I have realised that my thoughts are more powerful than my physical abilities. I am going to take this new-found wisdom and re-motivate myself to give my all to therapy. I am going to have to make myself vulnerable in order to confront my beliefs that have held me back for so long.

Small Steps 🚶🏻

After recieving my first pay packet from my new job, today I’ve indulged in some retail therapy.

Fuck-it! I have put on a stone and a half (9-10kgs) since Christmas and as a result I have done my usual thing of hiding away from people and mirrors. To put it another way, going to a large outlet centre on a bank-holiday was kinda terrifying.

With my twin sister who is recovering from anorexia in tow, I felt more self-conscious than ever. “Oh dear!” she would exclaim, “they don’t do a UK size 4”. So I treated myself to two perfumes that were ridiculously reduced to under £10 and also to a running top and leggings.

Yes, it wasn’t a huge amount and you are probably thinking “why the hell is she telling us this?!”

Well my friends, I haven’t engaged in more exercise than a two-mile stroll into town for the last six months. I have been reluctant to, since my latest attack/ self mutilating episode directed to my arms. I finally found a long sleeved running hoody that was within my price range and I actually wanted to cry with joy. It is beautiful.

Summer Shines and the recent London Marathon have inspired me to re-discover my inner athlete. Fingers crossed that I can keep it up into June!