current unhealthy obsessions vol. 3

Patty & Bun chips with roast chicken mayo and chicken skin salt 
Before I tasted this, garlic mayo was held in highest esteem but we now have a new front runner. You know how you can now buy Nando's sauce in supermarkets, this place has to do the same and with the chicken salt, too. The chips are perfectly crispy on the outside and lovely and fluffy on the inside making them the ideal companion for this heaven-sent condiment.

Star-shaped nose studs 
Apparently, nose rings are unacceptable to wear at my job therefore I was forced to opt for a simple stud. I refuse to pay Claire's Accessories extortionate prices so off I took myself to eBay in search of some reasonably priced jewellery. I came across these star-shaped ones and I'm in love. They're flat top which means subtle for work and also no danger of getting my hair caught in my piercing which yes, has happened to me before and yes, is as painful as it sounds. As well as that, they're cute as fuck and dirt cheap. They're also none other than 925 Silver because my precious little nozzle deserves the best. 

Fresh Meat 
A series I am re-watching for the umpteenth time. Season 2 is the best season and has saved my sanity this past week. Despite the fact I know all the jokes and could probably recite them word for word, I still find them genuinely funny. Zawe Ashton, who plays Vod, is one of my favourite actresses ever so there's also that. Moreover, I would most certainly get with Jack Whitehall given the opportunity - he is beyond fit.

Dreamland Intelliheat Heat Pad 
Who has time to be filling up a hot water bottle once every few hours like it's the early 1900s? Not me, clearly. My mum got this as a Christmas present from her mum a couple years ago and she never used it so I stole it and re-homed it to someone more grateful. My house, like most others across the UK this time of year, is fucking freezing. My feet suffer the most and turn into literal ice blocks. This heat pad warms up my trotters nicely and once they're warm every other body part follows. Additionally, during my time of the month it becomes the other necessary pad but for killer period pains.

Aloe vera 

I recently revived my IKEA bought aloe vera plant after weeks and weeks of neglect and now it actually looks decent. Supposedly, they have air purifying qualities and usually I don't believe any of that sort of bullshit but I have to admit, the quality of air in my room as of lately has been delightful. I reckon my next investment will be a lavender plant because I hear they help you sleep better.


bi, shy and ready to cry

Today I am here with a dating update that no one asked for. Since being ghosted by the last person I slept with, I came to the sad realisation that the most action I have had over the last couple of months has been on tube, up real nice and close and personal with sweaty strangers. 

I tell myself that I am done with online dating at least once a week but as soon as the existential loneliness hits me, I find myself swiping again. I don't even bother deleting the apps anymore because I'm done lying to myself. OkCupid is currently my number one choice which, if you've never had the displeasure of using, is basically a bootleg Tinder that attracts a special breed of people.

One woman wanted to financially dominate me which I was seriously considering because I'm never not broke but it just felt icky. That was actually one of the least ludicrous propositions. Users will unashamedly ask you to participate in their obscure fetishes. The ones you have to Google and instantly regret doing so. I'm not kink-shaming by any means, by the way. You do you, just don't include me thank you very much.

Never in a trillion years did I think I'd become a relationship person but here I am crying myself to sleep because I've got no one to cuddle at night. Despite this, I can't help but self-sabotage. Last week, I point blank refused to go out with this guy because I convinced myself he was too good looking for me. When I relayed this information to my best friend this, her eyes rolled so far back into head she looked possessed. Anyway, that's what has been going on in my head. My heart has been aching for romance, all the cutesy stuff and of course, hugs. My vagina has been craving human touch of a different kind. I'm sorry for being vulgar but I'm at that desperate stage where you're so sex deprived, you start to fancy anyone and everyone. A few days ago, I found myself fantasising about the 65-year-old security officer at my local Sainsbury's who has hairy ears and beer belly.

I need help.


a sertraline success story

Just over a year ago, I had a mental breakdown and not in a millennial hilariously tragic relatable kind of way. I became dangerously unwell. The things that crossed my mind were truly terrifying and the morbid reality about suicidal thoughts is that they can kill you.

Amongst all of the voices, the sane me managed to get a word in and told myself that I urgently needed help. One early, fateful morning, I dragged myself out of bed, popped a coat over my holey pyjamas, pulled on a pair of boots over my mismatched socks and took a trip to my local GP's walk-in clinic. I joined the queue alongside many others also suffering where we stood in solidarity patiently waiting our turn and all hoping for the best.

A GP couldn’t see me for at least two hours but I didn’t dare go home or else I probably wouldn’t have returned. Instead, I sat and waited anxiously perched on an uncomfortable chair and scrolled through r/relationships because reading about other people's misfortune always makes me feel better. Eventually my name was called, and mispronounced, as per usual. I clumsily arose from my seat and hurriedly walked into the office being careful to avoid contact with anyone.

I sat down and was greeted with kind eyes and a shy smile before being asked what had brought me here that day. With my apprehension at ease, I began to talk and what ensued can only be described as incoherent word vomit closely followed by hysterical tears. The doctor politely told me to shut up. They'd clearly witnessed enough.

The diagnosis: depression. Tell me something I don't know, I thought to myself. Plus, who isn't depressed these days? I'm joking, of course. Well, half joking, at least. I digress.

The prescription: 50mg of Sertraline, otherwise known as Zoloft to my transatlantic readers, once a day, every day for the foreseeable future. I'd already tried and tested antidepressants twice before to no avail. After two unsuccessful courses of medication, I wasn’t overly optimistic about more drugs but I quickly lay any hesitation to rest thanks to my wonderful doctor who expressed that they thought I hadn't given a fair chance to them previously.

The first week consisted of nausea, more nausea and a loss of appetite which, in all honestly, I wasn't mad about which I realise is utterly fucked up but at my size, weight loss, intentional or otherwise, is much appreciated. After trawling frantically on the likes of netmums.com desperate to uncover what I had got myself in for, I was well prepared for intolerable side effects but they just never happened. I'm one of the lucky few.

Any physical symptoms practically disappeared after week two and from then onwards, the timeline doesn't really exist. My moods gradually stabilised and I slowly became myself again - a person I hadn't seen in years. My thoughts became much less dark and my anxiety significantly reduced. I felt better in every capacity. Who knew I would ever become a fully-functioning human semi-capable of making socially acceptable decisions and morally sound life choices?

All of which should have been only good news, however, I found myself feeling very uncomfortable with my new found joy and glory. For the longest time, I identified as a depressed person and my mental health completely defined me. As time has gone by, thankfully these thoughts have largely subsided and I've decided that I in fact do deserve to be happy. Of course, I still get down though but overall, I can navigate my depressive episodes considerably better these days.

I realise this may seem like an oversimplification of recovery but, believe it or not, there are just some things that I can't share with the internet. At the same time, it could be possible that I'm simply not ready to yet. There is a sea of misinformation online and in and amongst the horror stories, I am hoping to reassure at least one vulnerable soul that antidepressants can and do actually work for some people, much like they did for me. 


november intentions

This time last year I was in Amsterdam and at that exact point in my life, that trip was all I had to look forward too. I was heartbroken. I'd been unemployed for two whole months and I held an impressive 100% rejection rate for any jobs applied to. CBT wasn’t the magical cure for my deep, dark depression that I hoped it would be. Despite the long list of reasons of why I wasn't, I told myself I was completely fine. We all know what that really means though, so as you can imagine, a break was well overdue.

If I had to relate myself to a Simpson’s character it would undoubtedly be Milhouse. My clunky glasses arrived a bit later in life, when I was 14, to be exact, but they were very much a thing and fortunately, no photo evidence exists. I could even do the eyebrow thing. Although mostly, it was our shocking social skills that were unparalleled. My point is, I was very uncool and therefore I never ever would of imagined that someone like me would be escaping to Amsterdam for a few days with my bestest friend just like all the cool kids do.

Sadly, I am not currently canalside with a cone of chips slathered with a generous helping of mayonnaise. Frugality was supposed to be the theme of this month but 5 days in and I've already fucked it. I blew November's entire budget in a matter of days forcing me to slip back into my overdraft yet again. What pains me most is that I literally could have bought a return ticket and an Airbnb for two nights and transported myself back to the Netherlands with the amount of money I spent.

The first order of November will be to declutter my bedroom. I lost my Oyster card in there well over two weeks ago and I also have a shameful collection of dead house plants. The fact that my draws struggle to close properly is filling me with anxiety so I will dedicate at least one whole weekend to seriously sort my shit out. I'm certainly not cool enough for a capsule wardrobe but I'm going to attempt one anyway.

Next up, I'd like to read Severance by Ling Ma which is first on my TBR list. This year I've read 3 books cover to cover so far which is the most I've read in about five years, probably longer. By the end of the year, I'd like to have reached 5 total. I'm thinking one this month and one the next. I may even join my local library although I probably shouldn't get too ahead of myself.

Lastly, I have to mentally prepare for ageing another year come December. The physical process of getting older is not what frightens me. Instead, I fear that I am nowhere close to where I’d have liked to have been by now. My list of accomplishments is far shorter than expected and I fear I’m not doing much to play catch-up. I've been watching The Apprentice recently and an adolescent dream of mine was to become a contestant and stand before Lord Sugar in the boardroom. One day, when I’m older is what I told myself. Except that day is now and thus my quarter-life crisis is rapidly approaching.