Previously on The Anxiety Diaries, Martha diagnosed herself with psychosis and crossed her fingers that her boyfriend wasn’t dying on the other side of the door – find out what’s next for our Little Looney Tune in the final installment of the series!
Last night on The Anxiety Diaries, Wanda wouldn’t shut up about sugar and Martha started hallucinating in the middle of the night. Will she get any sleep tonight? WHO KNOWS! It’s all going on in Martha’s head, stay with us folks!
“Whenever I write about my own anxiety, I tend to do so with perspective and distance. The way we discuss mental health is such that we’re happy to let people talk about it as long as they seem out of the woods” – Daisy Buchanan
The first time I called myself a ‘survivor’ was when I [stupidly] attended the Global Summit to End Sexual Violence in Conflict. I was sitting in one of the photo exhibitions and a young woman holding a microphone asked if she could interview me for her radio show. She asked me why I was at the summit. I looked up and blurted out “I’m a rape survivor”.
This time last week, I emerged from a debate at WoW London named “I Call Myself a Feminist”. Five women, all under 30, reading excerpts of the essays they had each contributed to a new book by the same name. When you’re sitting across from 17-year-old June Eric-Udorie speaking wisdom far beyond her years, you start to wonder why more people aren’t paying attention.
It started with a conversation with my mother. I’ve never told her that she started me on my way to being a proud feminist, so I’ll likely be getting a phone call this evening.
I first met Pavan Amara about six weeks ago and remember thinking to myself “are you sure this is Pavan Amara?”. Let me explain – a year or so ago, I read about something called the My Body Back Project. Pavan had set up the project after her own experience with sexual violence, determined to help fellow survivors in reclaiming their bodies.
During my routine Pool perusal, I happened across Ella Risbridger’s blog “Sometimes it’s the Little Things”. It’s a moving, funny, generally wonderful journey through lipstick and loving a man with cancer, and I can’t recommend it highly enough. Continue reading “Thinking || The Grounding Power of Touch”
I wrote recently about how I had lost my voice. How Generalised Anxiety Disorder was metaphorically crushing my vocal chords, paralysing my tongue and sewing my lips shut. Continue reading “Thinking || The Tyranny of ‘What If?’”