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The Street Fight Aftermath

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I have been in hiding. I spent years on this blog revealing my truth, but then I became trapped. I somehow began to believe that I couldn’t share my reality anymore and that belief imprisoned me. It imprisoned me at a time when my mind had become a madman and was living to torture me. Haunted by the continuous splatter of sounds that were crunched, smashed, thrown together and weaved with a poisonous thread; a ricochet of memories, feelings, thoughts and voices. A downright cacophony of crazy.  Photo: Nicola Muirhead So, I shared. Six weeks ago, I took to social media and finally expressed how the last 18 months of my life had truly been in a post called “The Street Fight”:  “It’s been several months since I’ve posted. In the mental health narrative, we love stories of rebirth, renewal and redemption. We watch the phoenix burn and we are inspired when we see that phoenix rise from the ashes, but we rarely bear witness to what happens in between. Brene Brown calls
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The Alphabet Years: A is where the adventure begins

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It’s 24 days into 2018 and I’m only now sharing my new year’s resolutions. I am, however, giving myself a pass because mine aren’t just for one year, they’re for 26. Since university, I haven’t planned my life more than a few months ahead. I thought I was a free spirit, but I now believe it was indicative of the opposite – one caged by fear. One that’s scared to plan and be disappointed; terrified to make goals, in case I miss the goalposts. The letter A is for... x While I had an incredible past year of achievements, I experienced something akin to daily stress fractures on my brain, which created fissures and cracks in my mind triggering mania and depression in rapid cycles. Now, I have chosen to unlock the cage: I’m committing myself fully to my creative endeavours all while travelling wherever this wild spirit finds itself drawn to, because that spirit was slowly dying. I was not in a good way. Now, here I am with the vastness of life stretched out before me. These e
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Best of Bermuda

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It's been a few weeks now - as it usually is between my blog posts and I know I must change. I will change. I have to now! Because I've been named in The Bermudian Magazine 's Best of Bermuda 2017 awards as Best Columnist/Blogger. And when you're neglecting your blog as much as I am, the guilt is accentuated when you win an award for something you're neglecting. Yes, I've been writing columns about Pepper Spray and Women's Rights , which I must admit is much more frightening than blogging about the inner workings of my troubled mind. I received very good advice once, "Don't look down." This applies equally to tightroping over a cliff as to when you've written an opinion piece and are terrified of the comments (read: trolls). I've been struggling with mania for months now, which is the opposite to my usual long bouts of depression. But I know the causes: it's lack of sleep, it's too much caffeine, it's lots of stress,
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