Am I jealous of your baby?

I wanted to write this blog post because it’s a question I have not only asked myself about other women’s pregnancies and babies since Samuel being born in the second trimester, but even prior to his arrival, I could never quite make sense of how those around me struggling with infertility, or having suffered miscarriage and baby loss, would feel about my own pregnancies or baby…and to be quite honest, mothers with babies who suffered extreme prematurity weren’t even on my radar.

Google defines to be jealous as ‘feeling or showing envious resentment of someone or their achievements, possessions, or perceived advantages’. I’d like to explore this a little bit and explain where I’m at.

Having a ‘Mummy Instagram’ page & feed means that almost every day, thanks to the good old algorithm, I will see at least a handful of pregnancy announcements, baby bump photos, birth announcements and newborn photos. I stop to look at these posts, I tap ‘like’ on these posts, I leave comments on these posts. When I say ‘congratulations’ on a pregnancy, or a new baby, or a gender reveal…I mean it, from the bottom of my heart. I do not resent a new or expectant parent’s happiness, and I would never be disingenuous about this or avoid wishing them well because of my own experience. There is no happier or more moving time than the promise of new life…I’ve been in those shoes and I 100% buy into sharing the excitement.

However, that doesn’t stop a niggle that I never used to feel. A sting of sadness; a reminder that what was supposed to be for us didn’t happen that way, and of everything else that happened instead.

Even now almost 10 months later, I am not yet comfortable to be around other babies. It’s impossible still for me to not look and compare what a ‘normal’ baby is doing, what the baby looks like and what has come naturally for Mum and baby, which wasn’t the same for me and Samuel. I have two close friends who were due months before me, whose babies were born after Samuel, in the same month. It may be almost a year since he was born, but that does not mean I have forgotten the experience or that his preemie journey is over, or even will be over for a number of years.

To see Samuel aside babies of the same age who are twice his size and in some cases almost walking, is something I will hold my hands up and say I am not yet stoic enough to deal with gracefully, and is a situation I will continue to avoid until I feel differently. There is actually a designated baby clinic in my area for babies who were on the special care unit at my local hospital, so that they can get weighed/chat to other Mums of premature or sick babies without experiencing these feelings. I haven’t yet attended it myself, and tend to take Samuel to the ‘normal’ baby clinic. For me, this is about taking little steps to push myself into situations where I can gradually learn to feel more at ease around Mums and babies who haven’t been in my shoes. I don’t engage in chit chat, but I’m there. It’s part of the healing process.

The other new and unexpected emotion I now find myself processing when it comes to pregnancies is that I am almost entirely unable to get my head around the possibility that the outcome of a pregnancy can be positive, and am struck by the fear and anxiety of this, completely unnecessarily, on another woman’s behalf. I know logically that what happened with Samuel is very rare; only 7% of births in the UK are premature, and of that 7%, just 5% were born before 28 weeks and would be classed as ‘extremely preterm’*. But knowing this doesn’t take away from the fact that it did happen to us, and that every second and third trimester bump photo now triggers a habitual thought pattern for me that includes willing the baby to stay in there ‘til they’re absolutely ready, calculating in my mind the potential size/weight and stage of the babies’ development (particularly their lungs), and comparing this to Samuel at birth. I would like to think this is because it’s still not been that long, and that eventually one day I will see gorgeous bumps and scrummy newborn babies with only the feelings of joy and excitement, without a tainting by my experience.

I don’t believe I’m special, or am worthy of any kind of exclusive treatment. I don’t like a fuss of any kind (good or bad – the thought of a big party thrown on my behalf, for example, calls for me to tuck my head away in my hands or rush to the toilet for a nervous poo). I certainly would never ask for, or expect anyone to tiptoe around me because of the indignities and failings of my own reproductive system. If there’s a situation or conversation I would rather avoid, I generally do just that, it’s no one else’s fault or responsibility. Unless backed into a corner or subject to a serious feather ruffling, I don’t tend to speak my mind about sensitive issues that pertain to me. This is why when someone pregnant has a moan to me about being pregnant (which having had a full-term pregnancy myself I COMPLETELY understand and empathise with) it is always of value to me if the disclaimer of ‘I know I probably shouldn’t whinge to you’, or similar, is thrown in there somewhere…at least in comparison to the times when it is not. Not because I think anyone owes me an explanation, or an apology, but it’s of comfort to me know that another mother might appreciate that it may potentially be difficult or uncomfortable for me to hear.

Bitter? No. Resentful? No. Jealous? Still unsure…maybe ‘envy’ is more on the mark?

Lucky? Definitely…I am under no illusion that I am one of the luckiest ones. Whatever the journey, my baby is here and never a day will pass where I am not acutely aware of how fortunate we are to have him.

Have you ever experienced any feelings like this? Perhaps you’re an IVF parent, have suffered miscarriage, baby loss, or are a fellow preemie parent? I would love to hear from you, it can be a lonely old place when we don’t talk!

Jo XX

*premature birth statistics from tommys.org

You won’t fall pregnant without treatment: My PCOS journey

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Around the age of 22, I decided I wanted to take a break from taking the contraceptive pill. I had been on Dianette for moderate acne for some years, and I just knew it wasn’t doing me any good (that drug is evil in its purest form…for me, anyway!) and I found that my ‘periods’ (obviously the ones you have whilst on the pill aren’t genuine) did not return. The official term for this is ‘secondary amenorrhea’, which basically means you did have a menstrual cycle, and now you don’t.

I went to the doctors after around 6 months, and was told to give it more time. I waited and waited, and over a year had passed before they decided to do some blood tests to figure out what might be going on. The results showed that I had low levels of what’s called the Leuteinizing hormone. This is the hormone that triggers ovulation, so basically every month when my body tried (or didn’t try) to ovulate, it wasn’t quite happening. The doctor referred me to the hospital for an ultrasound, which confirmed I had multiple cysts on my ovaries, and ‘scars’ from cysts that had come up and gone down again when they had tried to pop out an egg multiple times, and not managed to do so.

During the appointment when they explained this to me, a non-native English speaking doctor explained to me very matter-of-factly (it very may well have been the language barrier causing the perceived bluntness) that I would not get pregnant naturally, without medical intervention. I was only 23 and having a baby was so far from anything I had even in the periphery of my plans at the time, but nevertheless, to hear this was still pretty upsetting. It wasn’t an option? Ever?! What is wrong with me? They said I would need to gain weight before they would consider taking my case any further (I had a BMI of around 14 at the time; the weight fell off me very quickly after coming off the pill), and that really, I would need to be actively trying for a baby for at least 18 months before I would qualify for any kind of fertility treatment.

I was definitely not in ‘the zone’ to be trying for a baby, or putting pressure on myself to gain weight at what was meant to be the most fun and carefree time of my life…finally graduated from University, renting a decent flat and in a stable job, with the freedom to pretty much do whatever I damn well pleased for the first time ever (it was glorious…!) The relationship I was in at the time certainly wasn’t heading in the direction of anything so serious, or long term…so I just accepted it and carried on with my life, although it still played on my mind from time to time.

Fast forward to a couple of years later, and despite my reservations about the pill, I decided it was best that I go back on, and persuaded my doctor to put me on Yasmin instead (I had heard good things; that it was more gentle and good for people with mild acne/PCOS, both of which I had). It did take a lot of persuading, I guess it’s expensive to prescribe…but anyway, I still experienced some adverse symptoms from taking it (bloating, loss of sex drive, migraines, mood swings etc.), but stayed on for another two or so years.

During those two years, my circumstances changed when I met Jack, and so did my state of mind. For the first time, I actually saw myself settling down, getting married, having babies. After we had been together just over a year, the symptoms were getting too much and I decided it was time for another break from the pill, and to hopefully ‘reset’ my body so that in a couple years’ time, it might be ready for us to start thinking about babies.

I found after coming off that yet again, the weight fell off me and my skin flared up in painful and unsightly cystic acne round my jaw, and comedones (skin coloured bumps) over my face almost straight away. I had maybe two (irregular) periods, before they stopped completely, yet again. It was mega depressing being back where I was a few years ago, if not worse, and I started researching holistic ways to balance my hormones and clear my skin. All of the information I seemed to find about PCOS suggested that losing weight would be helpful, but this assumed that I might be struggling with being overweight, which didn’t apply to me.

I tried so many potions/powders & supplements; maca powder, bee pollen, Agnus Castus (chasteberry), chromium, fish oil, vitamin D, vitamin A…and so many more I can’t remember! Nothing *really* worked, not significantly. I was getting seriously depressed with it, because not only did I feel grotesque, my bad skin was a physical reminder that something wasn’t ‘right’ inside me, and that my hormones were still imbalanced after all these years.

I read a fair bit about a link between PCOS and insulin resistance/type 2 diabetes. There was one thing that seemed to make a difference when I tried it, and that was following a low GI/GL diet. No sugar, no refined carbs, no alcohol etc. Whenever I managed to stick to this for more than a couple of weeks, I managed to trigger my body into ovulating, and I would have a period. I would then relax a little… “hurrah, my body is working!” and then become complacent and go back to eating normally again, the periods would stop, and the pattern would continue.

In the end, I went back to the doctor (different surgery this time as I had moved) and was basically told I wasn’t heavy enough to be referred, and that my issues most likely stemmed from being underweight. I 100% knew this wasn’t the reason, and threw a big hissy fit…but I still went away and made an effort to eat as much (mostly healthy) food as possible to gain the weight needed to be referred. Months passed, and I managed to gain maybe half a stone, which still wasn’t quite enough. It was becoming extremely demoralising, so in the end I booked another doctor’s appointment. Just before the appointment I ate a large lunch and on my walk to the surgery, downed a 2 litre and a 1 litre bottle of water (my poor bladder; but you gotta do what you gotta do!)

Feeling suitably sick and stuffed, they weighed me and Hallelujah, I scraped the weight they had asked of me by about half a lb. They finally put me in for a referral, where I eventually had another ultrasound confirming I had PCOS, or more accurately this time, that I *HAD* PCOS, and there were scars there to show it, but my body hadn’t created any new cysts recently due to my cycle being completely dormant.

The plan was made that I would start a drug called Clomid, which is intended to trigger ovulation. It was around March at the time, and we decided between us (myself and Jack) that we would wait ‘til after the Summer for me to start treatment. I was just so relieved that something was in place to get me sorted, but we weren’t in any mad rush to get pregnant and thought it best after all the stress, to just enjoy our Summer. We were engaged and had a holiday planned to Sicily to look at wedding venues, and our weekends were just one party sesh after another (wistfully remembering these long-ago fun times!)

Fast forward to June, and a few people at my work were attempting a 5 day juice fast, for various reasons. In my infinite wisdom, I decided this might be good for my skin, so I joined in (never, ever, EVER again….). I made it to the end of day 3 and caved; I started eating vegetables and fruit again… I needed to chew and feel actual food in my belly! I was actually quite poorly for a week or so afterwards, it wasn’t a good move for me and I certainly wouldn’t recommend it, but that’s just me. My skin didn’t improve, and I was more bloated than ever. HOWEVER, sometime in the two weeks following the fast, I must have ovulated, and after a night of carefree partying…we got pregnant.

The same thing happened after I gave birth to Thea; my periods stopped before they even really started. But this time, it was of no real consequence to me, as I was in no rush to get pregnant or expand our family…my skin was good satisfactory, and I wasn’t exactly complaining about not having periods, so I just ‘let it be’.

Following a trip to Spain where I had severe D+V for 2-3 days, we arrived home and yet again found out I was pregnant. It must have happened just after we got back.

*Before I point out the following, please be aware that I am in NO WAY qualified to give any kind of medical or dietary advice, and this blog is purely anecdotal; my own experience. Please refer to your GP for any medical issues.*

The thing that my two pregnancies have in common, is that I hasn’t been consuming refined sugar, carbs, alcohol in the weeks leading up to ovulating. First time because of the juice fast, second time because of the actual fast from being so unwell. AGAIN – I AM NOT SUGGESTING ANYONE DOES ANY KIND OF FAST, EVER! What I’m getting at is, the doctor who said I wouldn’t get pregnant without treatment was wrong. No information whatsoever relating to diet was offered to me, but it turns out (in my personal experience, and in line with much of the research known about PCOS) that diet plays a huge role in balancing hormones, and that in my circumstance at least, I was lucky enough to be able to manipulate my body into doing what it should, without drugs, and I now have two beautiful babies.

Everyone’s PCOS journey is different, the symptoms vary greatly. What PCOS looks like for me, might be completely different from what it looks like to someone else, and one size does not fit all in terms of treatment. I wanted to share my story and make the point that never doesn’t always necessarily mean never, and if you’re suffering with PCOS, you aren’t alone and there is hope!

Jo XX

How #MummaMakesItWork

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I was adamant throughout my pregnancy that I would continue to live as close to my ‘normal’, ‘pre-pregnancy’ life as possible once the baby arrived. That I would not get ‘lost’ in Motherhood and become detached from the traits of my personality and the characteristics of my lifestyle that made me ‘me’. I called for meetings with my boss to discuss my return to work (though unsure on the actual timings of when this would be) and wanted to make it absolutely clear that I wanted to retain my position. I told anyone who would listen that I would continue to do things for myself and show my daughter from the very beginning that both Mummies and Daddies work.

No one was more shocked than I was when I made the decision to ‘give up’ my job after 8 years in the workplace. Whether we think we are prepared for it or not, having a baby has a massive impact on our lives in so many varying ways. My reasons for not returning stemmed from multiple factors, and whilst it was not an ‘easy’ decision to make, my gut had made my mind up for me before I could process my thoughts fully. I didn’t feel I could leave Thea, even if our situation had more so easily allowed.

For a while I have wanted to create a post on returning to work after maternity leave, or in my case, not returning. I started to write, and I somehow felt that I wasn’t going to be able to effectively get the message that I wanted to across. I didn’t want to simply describe my own situation and how I felt personally, without being able to offer another perspective, or convey that I wholeheartedly respect and understand the many reasons that other Mums may be doing things differently. There is no one ‘right’ way, and the last thing I wanted to do was give the impression that I thought mine was, without giving a nod to fellow Mamas.

I decided the post should be a collab, and reached out to other blogging Mums with children of a similar age, each with individual circumstances with regards to their return to work. We put together a simple Q&A to discuss our thoughts, reasons and doubts over our situations. You can link to read their answers at the end of this post!

Here are mine…

  1. How soon after having your baby (or finding out you were pregnant!) did you decide how you would continue after maternity leave?

Before going on maternity leave and all through my pregnancy I was absolutely adamant that I would be returning to work. Firstly because of our financial situation, and secondly because I was oh-so-certain that the baby would work around me, slot into my life and I would be able to continue on as normal. PAHAHAHAHA. HA. Not so!

My decision to not return was a gradual one, made based on numerous factors following my daughter’s birth.

  1. Who else had influence over your decision?

My partner, because he said he would support whatever I decided, but also during my maternity leave, he had one of those ‘it’s now or never’ moments, and made a big decision to leave his job as a graphics installation manager and start up his own installation company. Since he’s still starting up and establishing a client base, it’s too soon to turn down work. His hours are long and completely random (sometimes I won’t see him for several days at a time while he works day and night, and I won’t know that is going to happen until a day or two before). The long and short of this is that I am pretty much the only ‘constant’ in Thea’s life, and the onus is on me for everything she does, wants, needs etc., so I want to be around to make sure she has some security in her life. Also, when my husband does get to have the odd day off, if I were due to be at work, this would then mean we’d not have the chance to be together as a family (he works a lot of weekends too), and that prospect just didn’t sit right with either of us.

My Mum, because when we were small she put her career on hold to be with us. She enjoyed it thoroughly, and doesn’t regret it one bit. All our memories of this time are deeply treasured and so happy. She went on to still have a brilliant career(s) and excel in many areas…so although becoming a stay at home Mum was never what I envisaged for myself or something I had ever even considered, my Mother’s recount of her choices and experience gave me the confidence to make the decision for myself, and my family.

  1. To what extent did finance have an impact on your choice?

I worked it out and after putting Thea into childcare, paying the train fare to the office & working reduced hours (I had a rough plan to work 6 hours, 4 days a week down from 8, 5 days a week), I would have only been a couple of hundred pounds a month better off (that’s not disposable income, that’s to contribute towards living costs etc.) and since my husband had now worked to get us in a position that allowed me the choice (which I am incredibly grateful for) I chose time with my daughter over that couple of hundred pounds.

  1. Do logistics/travel play a role in your decision?

We moved further away from my place of work to buy a house while I was pregnant…we got the keys after I had already begun my maternity leave. My train journey would have increased by about 15 minutes had I not got a baby to factor in. That doesn’t sound like much, but on top of this, I would have also had to somehow get Thea to and from nursery on foot (there are no nurseries near our home or nearby to any train stops on the way to the office) and get to work on time for a reasonable number of hours that would have made the faff worthwhile.

The move had a huge impact on my decision, but to re-locate to this new area was the only way we could afford to buy a house, and we wanted to be able to have the baby in our own home, given the choice.

  1. What kind of judgement from others have you feared or experienced?

This one is difficult, since I am embarrassed to say I didn’t have the highest opinion of stay at home parents before I had Thea and became one myself. Not that I thought they were in any way ‘less than’, but because I couldn’t understand how someone could choose to ‘not work’. What an absolute fool I was. Being a stay at home parent is the hardest effing job I have ever had, and there’s absolutely no monetary reimbursement involved! If I was paying someone else to look after my child, that would be considered a ‘proper’ job, whereas mine as her Mum is mostly not.

I have always been the kind of person who thrives in the workplace, so being a stay at home Mum is completely unchartered territory. If I had to summarise, I would say that my fears are that people would assume because of my situation that I am not clever, not driven, not capable, not a role model and not a feminist.

Even some of my oldest friends have looked at me with a mixture of confusion, sympathy and disapproval when I have explained my decision to not return to work, which I have very much struggled to come to terms with. At times have felt as though I no longer have anything to offer, or am no longer worthy of the same respect as when I was getting paid to work.

  1. How has your sense of identity/independence/confidence been affected?

Specific to not returning to my job, not having my own wage has been a difficult one to adjust to. I have always been in paid employment ever since I was 14 years old (that’s 17 years, folks) be it part-time while I studied, or full-time since finishing university. However, in our family it is me who handles all of our finances, so I do still feel involved and play an integral role. I am no longer employed in the traditional sense, but I am responsible for handling all of my husband’s business accounts and admin, as well as occasional freelance work for his clients, so that definitely gives me another focus and sense of value, and we work together towards the same goal of providing for our family. However, as far as anyone else is concerned, because I don’t take a wage or run my own business, I am probably ‘just’ a stay at home Mum, which I would be lying about if I said it doesn’t sting.

In some ways, I am far more confident than before I had Thea. I like myself better as a person. I look back on how my personality was affected by my job, and I don’t like a lot of things about that person. I could be stressy, impatient, often rude, judgemental & snotty. I don’t think that’s due to me working full stop, nor my former workplace. More so, an unfortunate bi-product of an underlying dissatisfaction with my situation at the time.

  1. Did you have career goals prior to pregnancy? How do you feel about them now?

I’ve never had my heart set on one particular job. I studied English Language & Linguistics at Uni, which is more of a core subject rather than specialist, so I’d hoped by ‘playing it safe’ it would leave me open to approach a range of roles/industries. I’ve held two full time jobs since I graduated, both office-based. I would have liked to have been challenged more than I was. The main challenges for me ended up being the workload, and dealing with stressful deadlines/confrontations. I didn’t feel as though I was doing any ‘good’ or had anything to show for my commitment or how stressed I had become, which muted my inspiration and enthusiasm in the end. I do slightly regret allowing a lot of my career so far to be made up of ‘firefighting’ and not reaching my potential…but equally, I am confident that once Thea is a bit older, that I am bright, flexible and hardworking enough to re-establish my career and that I will know my own mind better to follow what it is I feel passionately about.

  1. In what form does your ‘Mum Guilt’ kick in?

I think people assume that only ‘working’ Mums feel guilty. This is definitely not the case! Often if we haven’t made it out to a class/playgroup/activity any given day, I worry that Thea might be bored, or that she would rather be with some friends than at home with me while I do work or try (largely unsuccessfully!) to keep up with running the house.

I also feel guilty because I know there might be other Mums and Dads out there who wish they could stay at home too, and if I complain about my bum not touching a seat ‘til gone 8pm (because looking after a toddler all day whilst juggling everything else is HARD!) I may appear to be coming off as ungrateful or resentful, which I can assure you is definitely not the case. I always try and make the most of every day I have with Thea, whether that’s taking her out, playing at home or just singing songs and reading the same book a million times over with her sat on my lap instead of getting on with what I ‘should’ be.

  1. Name your biggest doubt/insecurity over your situation.

When I see or hear the term ‘role model’ used for being a working Mum, I get a pang in my gut…am I not setting a good example by raising my daughter full time instead of going out to work? Am I an inferior role model by taking another route instead? I have the utmost respect for Mums who go to work, I’d go as far to say admiration. I agree that it’s a fantastic example to set your children by showing them how to hold down a career and create your own independence. So when I see rants on social media or experience judgement about being a stay at home Mum, I do feel a bit upset that the support isn’t always reciprocated. I am cautious about being too open about the reasons why I am ok with putting my career on hold for a few years, because I don’t want to cause any offence or come off as though I don’t understand or respect why other Mums choose (or have to) do things differently.

Another concern is that I worked really hard and invested a lot of money into going to university and working my arse off for years, and whilst I’m not in paid employment, it’s difficult to not worry on some level that it was all for nothing. I do know really that it wasn’t, but it’s something that crosses my mind from time to time.

  1. Finish this sentence ‘I am happy with my decision because….’

…at the end of every day, I feel good about being with Thea. I genuinely don’t get bored with hanging out with her. I feel like I’m fulfilling a role I didn’t know I was made for, and I know I’m doing my best. I know I will 100% return to my career when the time is right. But for now, for my own little family and our situation at this moment in time, I am right where I need to be.

Jo X

See answers from:

Skorchcake

Mums Revolution

The Mummy Saving Expert

Adventures of Lyncoln and Sophia

Thrifty Mumma Thrifty Bubba

Georgie Plus Three

 

 

“Nothing Changes, if Nothing Changes”

Normally my Saturday evenings are spent at home, in my jammies, usually horizontal, chilling with my husband and largely ignoring one another as we lay side by side, scrolling on our respective phones. Last Saturday was different. I was lucky enough to be invited along to an event at Brighton hidden gem Powder Beauty Boutique in the South Lanes in honour of International Women’s Day, along with my one of my besties, interiors blogger Jasmin aka @brickdustbaby. I washed my hair, wore ACTUAL make up, and left my baby in the capable hands of my husband.

Powder itself was beaut; totally glam, retro and buzzing with energy as lots of lovely ladies and bloggers enjoyed their treatments and some well-earned pampering. We sipped on the most delightful gin cocktails and snacked on some ‘super-healthy-so-tasty-surely-they-can’t-be-healthy?!’  nibbles from Gem’s Wholesome Kitchen.

The night was hosted by the incredible Life Coach Mary ‘Badass’ Meadows and ‘Mental Mutha’ Blogger Natasha Bailie, who I had the pleasure of meeting for the very first time. I have to admit that on sitting down for their talk with a room full of other women, I was taken by surprise when they introduced themselves by unreservedly addressing and owning their battles with mental health, and Natasha looked me right in the eye and said “U OK, Hun?”.

I felt a bubbling anxiety rise up through my body, prickling my neck and cheeks, my heart pumping loudly in my ears. Never before had I been in a scenario where a perfect stranger had been so open and talked so candidly about what is (wrongly) considered a taboo subject. I was unsettled by the idea that the talk may result in an ‘icky’ confrontation with my own mental health.

I needn’t have been so fearful. It wasn’t so much a ‘talk’ as it was a refreshingly upfront and involved conversation about the prevalence of mental health struggles in everyday society, coping mechanisms/techniques, and learning to not be ashamed or suffer needlessly. Lots of incredibly brave women found the strength to share their stories and discuss their innermost thoughts and feelings with the room. I listened on with admiration as one by one, they became empowered to openly confront their own experiences with mental health.

Unfortunately, I didn’t feel prepared or brave enough to speak out about my own experiences on the night. I am not ready to do anything more than scratch the surface of my long-term battle with EDNOS and Anorexia. Close friends, family, professionals who have treated me, and anyone who may have deduced from my appearance during my darker moments will be aware of my struggle to some extent, but this post will be the first time I’ve addressed it in a public forum, and I’m not going to lie; it racks me with fear, guilt and shame.

An uncomfortable cocktail of fear that I’ll be judged for being mental, weak or neurotic. Guilt for ‘indulging’ in what is widely considered to be a middle-class, ‘first world’ problem. Shame for not appearing to have been mental or skinny ‘enough’ by whatever standards or criteria Joe Public has set for what an eating disorder should look like from the outside.

I know somewhere within that I have nothing to be ashamed of. I wouldn’t be ashamed to say if I had a headache and needed to take a paracetamol. I wouldn’t be ashamed to say if I had a chronic bout of cystitis, crying out for antibiotics because I was peeing out razor blades. I wouldn’t even be ashamed to say if I had a serious case of food poisoning and was sh*tting every 10 minutes through the eye of a needle. What’s the difference?

The difference lies in what society has told us up until now what is and what isn’t ok to talk about, and false ideas about what is and what isn’t a ‘real’ health issue. If we were suffering from a physical or visible health problem, we wouldn’t be so quick to stuff it away like a dirty secret, or treat it as merely an afterthought.

Conversations like we had with Mary and Natasha are crucial, because only by talking about our mental health, can we begin to break down the stigma that tells us that we shouldn’t; the cause of far too many suffering alone and in silence, believing that we’re crazy, or that no one could possibly understand or be able to help us.

The ladies told us that they’ve “never known anyone to regret asking for help”, which I can wholeheartedly believe. Granting release to our worries and difficulties is the only thing that ceases them from endlessly circling and intoxicating our minds, tormenting us from the inside.

Asking for help is a choice that we make. A choice in which frees us to discover that we aren’t alone after all; we’re all as mental as each other! Just like we all catch colds or get the sh*ts from time to time. Help is out there…often in places and in formats we didn’t even know were at our disposal.

As the ladies quite rightly declared, “Nothing changes if nothing changes, Babes”

Jo X