Thoughts Not Facts

This is something that my tutor said to me a few months ago and it really stuck with me. Ever since opening up about the voice in my head, I’ve received a lot of advice (most of which hasn’t been helpful whatsoever!) about how to deal with it. It’s hard to describe something that is not there, so I made a full body and gave a name to this voice. It helped to bring him to life and that Im not just fighting something invisible anymore. However, this did come with its downfalls as do most of my plans.

Although it is real, it actually means that it is real which probably doesn’t make sense. I’ve always been in a constant part of denial, refusing to believe certain things as then in my mind it means I don’t have to deal with them. It made it harder than people in my mental health didn’t believe me and constantly put it down to stress. You know, stress totally makes me want to kill myself 24/7 and suffocate in your own thoughts. Some professionals argued it was Psychosis, others said it was BPD and others kept it to stress. I still don’t have a clear answer on what is actually wrong in this aspect.

I was at college one day when the voice was in full swing and I was in a very big meltdown. My tutor found me, got me off the bathroom floor, and got me in her office (only took like 20 minutes to do what would normally be a 10-second walk). She said that this voice is not displaying any facts to me, that they are all just thoughts. I didn’t believe her to begin with as I couldn’t see that the voice was taking over me. She got me to tell her some of the things he was saying to me like ‘No one loves you’, ‘Your better off dead’ and so on. We wrote them all down and then ticked which ones were facts, to which not one of them was.

It made me realise that even in the moment of intense feelings, that everything my voice is telling me is all just thoughts, that these are not facts and therefore should not get my attention. Instead, I should acknowledge these and let them go. Yes, I understand that is easier said than done but I keep putting in my work when it comes around as I know that this is not real. From then on, we use this phrase a lot. Thoughts are not facts, and therefore do not need to take over my body. Its something that I can’t forget.



Have you ever felt lost? As your standing in the middle of a forest, trees all around you and you don’t know which path to take. Every path you take brings you back to the centre of where you started. Slowly you begin giving up trying to find the right path, as you have tried every way you can think of. That’s me right now. I’m standing in this forest and I’ve tried all these paths to get better but nothing seems to be working anymore.

Feeling lost is a weird one. Like right now, I’m laying in my bed, plumped up by a few pillows with a scarf around me to help with the anxiety I’m feeling. I know I’m at home, I know what town I’m in, but somehow I still feel lost. I don’t feel like I belong here. Not because I am not loved, because this isn’t where I’m meant to be. I shouldn’t be laying in bed crying, I should be out loving life. It’s hard when all you have is a voice in your head hating on you every second, of every day, of every week, of every month. I want to go out, find which path I should be taking in this chapter of my life but I cant.

I have tried many paths. I have tried so many different methods to help my mental health yet none of them has seemed to get me anywhere in particular. Some have helped me move to another part of this forest maze I’m stuck in, but nothing has actually helped me escape. Counselling, CBT, group therapy, being assigned a community psychiatric nurse… you would think that this would have made a huge improvement and to an extent, it has helped me and I’m forever grateful for getting this help. None of it got me out though, and that’s all that I keep longing for.

I always get told that to get better you have to help yourself and yeah, I probably have made some stupid decisions that haven’t helped me move forward, but it’s not like I’m not trying. Everything anyone has ever set me I have always done, I’ve read self-help books galore, tried worksheets to figure my patterns and thoughts, different therapies, absolutely everything. Yet, I’m still sitting here trying to fight away this voice in my head. I’ve got told that its because I’m stressed that I hear him. Stress doesn’t want to hurt you like this voice does to me. I’ve been told to just ignore him, pretend he’s not there, but you can’t ignore something that is part of your daily life.

I can say with certainty that my journey has been a long one, and my paths feel like they are leading to nowhere. I know it’s not true, as I’m studying in Health and Social and going to University in September to study how to become a youth worker. I know its leading somewhere physically, but mentally I feel like I’m going to be trapped. This forest feels like it is ever growing, and that I will never find my way out.

I can only dream what the view will be like at the edge of this forest, and I hope one day I can see it.




We are told to be strong for ourselves. That the Mentally Ill are the strongest people in the world. I’m not saying we are not either, as what we face takes courage. I’ve always wondered though; as strong as people tell us we may be, that doesn’t mean we are strong all the time.

I’ve had someone say to me ‘You must be immune to anything bad happening to you, as your brain is horrible to you everyday’ I get where they are coming from, they are trying to say that nothing should phase me anymore and those bad things are just apart of my everyday life. I get that, but at the same time, that doesn’t make certain situations any easier for me. Just because I’m used to bad things happening’ doesn’t mean I’m strong enough to hold myself together all the time.

As kids, we are given the misconception that we should be strong for one another. That we shouldn’t show any sadness we feel as that will bring others down. However, that feeling builds up inside of us. That feeling of strength that used to be in us slowly fades into nothing. You can be as strong as you like to others, but if you’re not strong in yourself then that strength won’t come through.

Strength comes in different forms though. Strength to me could mean something completely different to you. Strength to me means opening up to someone, admitting that you aren’t coping as well as people think you are. Strength to me means being able to say ‘no’ to something without the feeling of guilt that you are letting people down. Strength to me means that you are building yourself up to help yourself out first, before putting someone else in front of your needs. What I think strength is though could mean something completely different to you.

We look at those who we think are strong because they got a smile across their face, they are laughing and helping others out. They may not be as strong as we all first thought though, and sometimes we all need a little helping hand. Always keep that in mind.



Why do we have to be so ashamed of our children for having Mental Illness(es)? That a parent can’t speak up about their child who may be suffering from Depression, Anxiety, an Eating Disorder, BPD or any other Mental Illness? Maybe its because they are afraid of being judged, or that their child will be bullied against it. My parents don’t like to believe that I have anything wrong. Maybe it’s just a phase that I’m going through they say.

My parents hate it when I talk openly about my Mental Health, especially on social media. They say that it would upset Nan and Grandad to know what I’m going through. That there are people worse of then me so I shouldn’t be complaining. That not everyone needs to know our struggles. That’s the one thing that annoys me, they use the words ‘our struggles’. I’m sorry, you know what I’m feeling? That I’m suicidal as hell and that a blade hits my skin most nights? No. You never try to understand what I’m going through.

When I tried to open up to you about all this, Dad got angry and upset as he couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t share this with both of you. Mum, you sat there in silence, but your face told me a thousand words. I could tell that you were feeling hurt by what I was saying, but everything I said was the truth. The truth hurts, but what hurts more is trying to hide it from those you love because they won’t understand.

Dad; one thing you said to me was ‘I worry some nights that I’m going to wake up in the morning and my little girl won’t be there anymore’. That was a dagger to my heart. I wouldn’t want you to ever think that. Then we got talking about things, and that’s when you started telling me that if only I went to you that you would have got me through the system quicker. That none of this would be happening right now if only I came to you. You insinuated that I can’t do things right and that you’re always right.

Mum; you never yell at me, if I’m more honest, you don’t say much when it comes to my Mental Health. Your face tells me everything I need to know. When I posted on Facebook one time opening up about my struggles, you said that you didn’t want Nan & Grampi to know as it’s our family problems. I get that Mum, I do. Thing is though; why should I be ashamed of myself? Why can’t I tell people? You tell me that its nothing to be ashamed over and that people just don’t want to know the struggles we face.

You ask my parents what I’m like and they will say a happy, outgoing and bubbly person who never lets things get in the way of her dreams. That I’ve won awards upon awards, that I’ve met Royalty, I volunteer for a living, I went back to college to get a better education. They would say that I’m perfectly fine and that my life is great. And yes, to an extent my life is great. I have done all those things, but why don’t you tell people that I have Mental Health and despite having it that I have still done all these amazing things? Is it because you fear they will judge you? Your parenting skills? Cause you brung me up with the best life I could imagine. Yeah, we went through shit like when Dad went to prison three times, or when my brother started smoking at age 12, or Grampi being told that he will be basically wheelchair confined for the rest of his life. Admittedly you don’t bring it up much, but people still know about it. Maybe they only know one of the three things, but they still know. No one knows what I go through.

Before anyone wants to start having a go at me, I know it must be hard to admit that something is wrong with your child, I’m not denying that. Why can’t your child speak about it though? Why do we have to make them feel ashamed for something that they have? We don’t tell them they can’t tell anyone if they feel sick or feeling faint. We don’t tell them to hide their cast from where they have broken a bone. So why must we do that with Mental Health? Why can’t we speak openly about it?

Mum & Dad; I’m sorry for what I put you through. I would stop all of this if I could, I swear. I can’t though, so can you accept me for who I am, and please let me be open about my Mental Health?


Duck Duck Goose

If you from England, chances are you know the game ‘Duck Duck Goose’. For those of you who have never heard of this game, it’s one with simple instructions. Players sit in a circle and one person goes around and taps each participant on the head. They say duck duck duck etc until they choose a person to say goose too. They then both run around the circle and whoever is last to sit down in the previous persons seat goes around the circle repeating the earlier steps. A simple game that is learnt at a young age.

It’s weird, all my other classmates always wanted to be picked, and would get upset if their friend didn’t pick them; for me though this was never the case. I was a shy and reserved kid, one who just liked to keep herself to herself and had very few mates. I never liked playing class games as I never wanted to be singled out. I hated that feeling of being picked upon, even in a simple game such as Duck Duck Goose. I would get worked up about these situations as I just hated being the centre of attention. I was never a fast runner, I wasn’t not liked but then again I would never be picked to go on someone’s team, they got stuck with me as I was always the last one to be chosen. When working in pairs, if my one friend wasn’t there, then I would either get out with someone, work on my own, or be the teacher’s assistant.

I hated that, being the teacher’s assistant. However, I grew to accept that this was who I was, and I started going with it. I would suck up to teacher’s and make attachments real easy with them as at least I knew I had someone, even if they were years older then me. I knew that in games such as Duck Duck Goose the likelihood of them choosing me would be high and although I hated being chosen, it was also coupled with a feeling of releif. Releif that I don’t have to wait in suspense for someone to choose me, and at least I knew who would choose me.

It wasn’t just Duck Duck Goose I didnt like though, it was all games that required me to be the centre of attention. There’s a song called Cookie Monster, which is where you sing this rhyme that goes ‘Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? _______ stole the cookie jar.’ then you would be denying it and the rest of the class would ask who done it, and you would say someone else’s name. Not only was my fear of my name being chosen high, it was coupled with them having to speak alone infront of a good 30 other people. All these games were not my idea of a fun time, and I always dreaded it when these lessons came around.

One thing I have realised though is this is not a past fear, I still have this fear. I can’t stand being infront of my class speaking out loud, I don’t like being called upon in a class to answer a question, all of this is still so scary. Then something occured to me, I’ve always had Anxiety. I thought this was something that came apart of my life in my teen years, but this has been with me ever since I have been a kid. No one ever really picked up on this either, they just always put it down to a bit of nerves and that I will ‘blossom’ soon. This started at age 5, I’m now 19. Apparently forcing me to stand in front of people will also help, but that’s a whole other post!

Simple games are scary for me, and that’s okay.


Good Enough

Nothing hurts you more than when you’re trying your best and you still come out not being good enough. That sinking feeling, your eyes filling with tears, the sound of your voice breaking. It all hurts you, each feeling like a stab in your heart and there’s nothing you can do about it.

I think this is the feeling that is hurting me the most. I want to be the perfect person, one who is flawless, one who doesn’t fuck up every time she touches something, I just want people to realise that I am trying. I’m trying so god damn hard to make something of myself.

I want to be the daughter my parents wished for, a friend that isn’t broken inside, a sister that would make my brother proud. I want to show people that is not just my Mental Health, and not be defined by them. How can I do that though? How can I show people that I’m more than my labels when they are the ones that are dominating my life. Everything I do is defined by my illnesses.

From that shaking of my foot, the tapping to try and calm my heart down, avoiding all eye contact to people to not let them see into my life. I want to be good enough, I want people to love me for who I am. This post is a bit everywhere, I’m aware of that. Not much of this probably makes sense, but how can you make sense of my thoughts when even you cant make sense of what you’re thinking?

My mind is going 100mph right now, and I cant slow it down. All them self-help apps keep saying to talk to professionals. How are they going to make sense of what is going on when I can’t even pinpoint what is making me feel like this? They cant help me when I don’t even know what is going wrong in my life. All I do know is that I’m struggling, and I just want to be the person everyone thinks I can be.

I’m not good enough for anyone, and that feeling is hurting me the most.


13 Reasons Why – S1 VS S2

A Netflix show that has divided many. One that shows the raw details of Hannah Baker’s life, and why she decided to end it. I wrote a post named 14 Reasons Why Not, where I wrote about all the reasons why not to watch season one because of the way it portrays mental health. Now watching season two, it has left me with very much mixed feelings

Season one shows us why (and how) someone’s actions can lead to suicide. I do not agree on how they portrayed most things in the season as showing Hannah’s suicide scene was an insensitive move, especially because of there being no warnings around this. There was no mentioning of any of the characters, not just Hannah’s, mental health. These were insensitive moves that they took with little thought for their viewers and the personal struggles they could be going through.

Season Two has left people with mixed feelings, some saying that the final episode with the sexual assault scene was too much, while others jump to defend the show’s decision in this by saying that warnings were sent out for this scene and that it was at the viewer’s the discretion to continue watching.

My opinion? I think that season 2 is a lot more accurate in accordance to Hannah’s suicide. I do think that the scene featuring Tyler was a bit too much. I look at it though and despite my first reaction to this graphic scene, I do see why they have put this in. That scene alone has generated a whole new discussion in society about the impacts of sexual assault/ abuse and being able to start a conversation about this matter. With this topic being a taboo subject, a person who has gone through this can find it hard to open up. This could be a way to slowly introduce the idea of speaking about sexual assault and lead into a flowing conversation.

The other episodes however really won me over. It shows issues in a true light and doesn’t attempt to glamorise any of it or try to make it into a comedy to make something of such a sensitive issue into a mockery. Take some of the characters story as examples; Justin, they show what life can be like for someone struggling with drug addiction, Jessica and her acceptance in her sexual abuse and learn how to deal with it, Alex on his progression journey after his suicide attempt, or Clay and the grieving process he goes through with Hannah’s death.

One thing that did make me very happy about this season of 13 Reasons Why is that they talk about the characters Mental Health, and opening up the clarification of Hannah and her experience of depression. Watching these episodes, I found that the production team have put a lot more thought into the new season compared to the first one. This along with featuring at the end of each episode a web-address with an actors voice saying go to the website to find resources, and at the beginning of the season with the actors being filmed, giving out viewer discretion and explaining what the show is about showing us that they took the comments in that society had and improved the show.

The second season has left me thinking about mental health and suicide and how this show is a great way to start a conversation on this topic.





They sting, and if you know what I’m on about, then I am so sorry. The pain gets less and the numbness takes over. No longer can I feel the pain, I’m just left with the aftermath of an awful decision. If you haven’t guessed by now, yes, this is about self-harm.

**DISCLAIMER – There will be mentioning of self-harm stories, blood, blades and so on. Please do not read on if this causes you too much distress. All things said in this post are from my viewpoint**

Recently, a blade has become my best friend again. This time though, they want to make sure their presence is known by leaving marks worse than ever and causing me pain like no other. The cuts are becoming deeper and deeper now, and I don’t know how to stop. All these coping mechanisms that I have developed throughout the years just won’t work anymore. I have tried everything to stop myself. I was told to wrap the blade in layers of sellotape so it makes it harder to get access to it.. that just made me more determined to get to it. Draw on me with red ink. I dug the pen that hard into me that I broke the skin. I was once told by sticking my face in the freezer would help, all I got out of that was a very cold head.

As I’m writing this, my legs are bandaged and I can not move them without being in intense pain. I’m lying here, dead still to avoid causing any more damage to myself. At the moment, there is nothing more than I want is for me to bleed out, to make me hurt. After though, when all that tension is out, I regret it. I feel mad at myself because I know I fucked up again, and that I’ve damaged myself so much that I’m just coming to accept it.

All these cuts and scars are visual proof that my demands won again. They take over my brain, control everything I do, make me want to hurt myself. Its a feeling that I can’t explain, as it takes over me, but it seems like I still want to do it. I want to cut myself to try and kill the monster that is inside of me. I don’t fight with him, I comply with his wishes because I hope and pray that it will make him go away.

I’ve got bloodstained bandages, raw red legs, and a monster wanting me to die. He’s winning at the moment.



Louder and louder. Kill Yourself they say. There’s nothing left in this world for you so just die already they scream. Make them cuts deeper, the more pain the better they whisper as they seep into my brain and destroy every thought I ever have.

Recently, there have been voices in my head. I’ve had them for a while, but more recently they have been getting louder and louder. They used to be things that I could deal with, keep on going with my normal daily routine. This past month though, they are loud, and I cant shut them up anymore.

I was sat in a lesson, and out of nowhere I started to feel anxious and that made the voices speak a little louder. I put on my headphones to try and drown them out. I turned them up louder and louder till it as at max volume. Yet the voices overpowered them. KILL YOURSELF YOU PIECE OF SHIT. YOU CANT DO ANYTHING RIGHT. SELF HARM AGAIN, BITCH. It scared me, as I havent expereinced anything like this before, and at that point, I wanted to die right there and then.

From walking out the room and going up one flight of stairs to get to my tutor, I figured out a solid 10 ways I could take my life right there and then. I know they are not real (as many people keep pointing out to me), but it feels real to me. Sitting there, with these voices screaming at me, I don’t know what else I can do! I wake up and there they are, greeting me. Same applies when I go to sleep, they send me off to sleep with messages filled with self-hate.

I just don’t know what to do anymore with myself, as I’m clearly not coping too well. I want help, I really do, but I don’t want people to think I’m crazy by what I’m saying. Yeah, I know what you’re probably thinking Chelsea, your writing this and sharing it with the whole world. I am well aware of this, but somehow thats not as scary. Be that because I’m not facing them, or not speaking it face to face,  but I needed to get this out.

I just want to curl up in a ball right now and cry.


Rock Bottom

That feeling of nothingness. Emptiness. Aloneness. It overwhelms every inch of your body. Silence can be the loudest cry. The voices in your head are getting louder and louder. Cuts on your arms are becoming deeper and deeper. The nights are becoming longer and longer. Before you know it, rock bottom seems like your best friend.

I constantly say that rock bottom is somewhere that I have never experienced. I say this because the day I hit there is the day that I kill myself. That will be the day that rock bottom will become a real thing. Whenever I go to a Mental Health appointment, they always ask me on a scale 1-10 on how close I am to rock bottom. Each session it can vary. Recently though, it’s 9. I get told I’m brave and must be strong because I’ve never hit rock bottom, or want to believe I haven’t. Truth is I’ve probably hit rock bottom that many times now we are best friends.

Why do I say this though? Because its true, the day I commit suicide is the day that I lost, and that day would be a 10 on the scale, as I felt that bad. I’ve been suicidal for years now, and I’ve had a few too many attempts and trying to take my life. The other night, I saw this come up on my Instagram, and it fits the situation perfectly.

I’m not suicidal, but if a car came while I was crossing the street, I don’t think I would move out the way. And if someone held a gun to my head, I wouldn’t exactly beg for my life. In fact, I’d laugh and tell them to go for it. No, I’m not suicidal. But if I had an opportunity to die without having to kill myself, If probably take it.

How wrong is that though? That I live in this permanent mindset that I want to die. Why should I feel like this? I never asked for this life, for Christ sake I never asked to be born. I was brung into this cruel world by two people who cant see that their own little girl is falling to pieces with every step she is taking, and she doesn’t know how long she can carry on for.

Rock bottom, a place that I should make myself a new home. Going to be here for a while.