Whenever people say ‘I have a phobia’, I think the popular assumption is something you probably wouldn’t blame someone for freaking out over. Spiders, enclosed spaces, snakes. Imagine having a panic attack every time your body functions like it’s supposed to.

I suppose I’ve always known I had a problem with vomiting. I don’t know where it came from or why it happened, but in my teenage years I began obsessing over ways to stop myself being sick and went out of my way to avoid people who might be sick. If someone looked pale on the bus, I’d get off at the next stop regardless of where it was. Once, and I’m ashamed of this, I was travelling with a friend who got sick on the bus and I left her alone because I was absolutely petrified. Rightly so, her parents and other friends were disgusted with me. I was disgusted with myself. What sort of person was I? For several hours I was shaking, crying and wishing I could just cease existing because I believed I was bad, wrong. Something that everyone has done or does at some point was crippling me mentally to the point that I’d pull sick days off school if I knew a bug was going round, just to avoid catching it. I thought there was something really, very abnormal about me and I kept it to myself.

The first time I realised it might not be such an isolated case is when I caught my first stomach bug at high school. I don’t remember a lot about it, it was 16 or so years ago. But I do remember knowing it was about to happen and running through the house screaming ‘I’m going to be sick!’, hysterically crying. As I passed my Mum in the kitchen, I was slightly surprised to see her run in the opposite direction. That didn’t seem in line with what should be happening. Afterwards, my Mum was very apologetic and tried explaining that it was just an instinctive reaction and she didn’t know why she felt that way. It needed no explanation for me – it all fell into place. Every memory I had of being sick as a child involved my Dad doing ‘the clean up’. 

It was enough for me to feel less alone and I began coping a little better. I still had quite substantial panic attacks if I felt sick, or was around anyone being sick, but it wasn’t so much it consumed me. Then in my 20s, I had the horrifying experience of my boyfriend, now husband, throwing up on me on the London Underground – unable to stop himself. I blacked out from sheer panic soon after, the rest is quite hazy. Things kicked up a notch from then. I carried anti-emetic tablets with me everywhere. I panicked if I didn’t have water with me. I opened public doors with my sleeves over my hand, and read up on symptoms of ANY illness obsessively. I’m not sure how I lived with it for so long, or indeed my husband. By this point I’d heard of emetophobia and I think I knew deep down that my condition had a name, but I still felt massively ashamed. People always said ‘well nobody likes being sick!’ when I tried to explain how I felt.

It came to a point last year (early 2012) where my GP was talking about trying me on new painkillers for my fibromyalgia and while talking about side effects she said ‘vomit’ a few times. I got very tearful and shaky and when she paused, I practically screamed at her, “STOP SAYING VOMIT!” That was it, the floodgates opened and it all came out. The panic, the weird behaviours. I braced myself for the reality check, that I should have grown out of my silly fear. Instead, she asked me if I’d ever heard the term emetophobia. DING DING DING. I was immediately put on the waiting list for CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) and suddenly I felt instantly more normal. My first 16 weeks of CBT were aimed at chipping away at my general anxiety problems and then we moved on to addressing my phobia.

This Thursday will be my last CBT session and the difference is astonishing. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a fair way to go. I still have that initial wave of pure panic if I feel anything that could be interpreted as nausea and I have to sometimes physically stop myself from indulging old safety behaviours. But, I can now sit through a film or TV show without worrying. I don’t instruct my husband to have his finger on the mute button just in case. If a vomit scene happens to crop up in something we’re watching, I barely even flinch, maybe just a smirk to myself as I realise just how far I’ve come. When I have anxiety episodes in the throes of insomnia, I now calmly reason with myself and don’t straight away resort to waking Mike up so he can protect me if I’m sick.

I don’t need to go into detail about what CBT entails, most people will already realise that a lot of it involves exposure therapy in order to retrain initial reactions. It’s brutal, seriously. The first time I ever watched a YouTube video of some frat boy puking after his 10th beer bong I thought I was going to pass out from panicked hyperventilating. Over time though, I’ve learned to question my instinctive reaction and replace it with something that doesn’t start off the panic cycle. Overcoming phobia is possible – I believe that now. Still got a fair way to go down this path, but hey. Isn’t life about the challenges?

*In summary, I have emetophobia and have completed a course of CBT to treat it. It’s going very well. This is one of those May Challenge blogs that I put a lot of thought into. And if you read the whole thing, contact me for your prize**.

**Prizes include cat gifs and bad jokes about flies.

Sinful Colors Nail Polish – £1.99 at Boots (available in glitter, pearl, shimmer, matte and cream finishes)

I’ve only recently started painting my nails again, for the longest time they were in awful condition, but since being in a regular exercise routine and generally eating better, my nails have become a bit more presentable. A stand in Boots caught my eye last month, an array of gorgeous colours, just £1.99 a bottle. Boots had one of their famous 3 for 2 offers on as well, so I picked a few up. Amazed at the quality for the price. Three days after application and no chipping. None. And I didn’t even use a top coat that first time. Some of the colours are a bit hit and miss with application, but for that price, can’t really quibble.

(pic from Amazon)

Bare Minerals Original SPF 15 Foundation – £18.75 at Feel Unique

Making the move from liquid to mineral foundation has been a revelation for me, truly. I have combination skin, with a full-on grease tendency around my nose and forehead along with uneven skin tone and somewhat flaky skin around my nose. This beauty applies wonderfully and gives fantastic coverage. It also lasts – I bought a trial sample in October last year and I’ve only just had to replace it with a full size one. I use Bare Minerals own large application brush and it works a treat.

Garnier 5 Second Perfect Blur Primer – £12.99 at Boots

Ever since stumbling across Benefit’s The POREfessional a few years ago, my entire make-up routine changed. I was finally able to smooth out my uneven skin tone as well as hide my dinosaur footprint pores. The only drawback for me has always been the price. Don’t get me wrong, I’m generally happy to pay for quality – when I can afford it. At £24.50 a time, it’s not always easy. So, I was quite interested to try Garnier’s offering, which makes similar claims but is available at a much more acceptable £12.99. I had a fair amount of scepticism, but it’s wonderful. It doesn’t feel as smooth straight out of the tube, but it applies SO nicely and provides a really good base for my mineral foundation.

Maybelline Eye Studio Gel Liner – £7.99 at Boots

I bought myself the famous Bobbi Brown Gel Eyeliner last year, justifying the gargantuan cost by reasoning it was for my wedding. To be honest, I was never blown away. It always seemed to ‘drag’ itself across my eyelids, no matter what brush I was using or how warm the liner was. I ended up reverting back to the cheaper Maybelline liner, started using a MAC brush and I’m much happier with the way it applies and its longevity. Sigma’s liner brush works just as well (and its cheaper), though it isn’t as fine as the MAC.

Pond’s Cold Cream Cleanser – £4.49 at Boots

I’m a bit late to the party on this one, beauty bloggers have been raving about it for years and older generations using it for even longer. I finally got round to trying this cleanser last month and I’ve been kicking myself for prolonging it ever since. Even though it feels greasy as you slather it on (this can feel counter intuitive if you suffer from greasy skin) but as you massage it in, you can almost feel the crap on your face breaking down. Removed with toner on a cotton pad – fresh and clean feelings guaranteed. Now a staple in my routine (and I’ve noticed my overall complexion improve).

So maybe I’ll revisit this again in a month if I have any more ‘discoveries’.

What are your can’t-live-without beauty items?

Now I could just accept all of this and carry on with my life, but nooo. I have to be a brat about it and insist that I create my own list, tailored to things that will challenge me, while still remaining in the realms of possible. Time frame? Well, I turn 30 in December of 2014, so 18 months seems a decent amount of time. Every time I complete one of the items on this list, I’ll blog about it. Simples.

30 Before 30

1.  Overcome emetophobia
2. Make peace with my body/be happy in my own skin
3. Running races – a) 5k b) 10k
4. Learn to cook a lasagne from scratch
5. Visit one of the following: Rome, New York, Sydney
6. Reinvent overall look at least once
7. Buy a house/save enough for a deposit
8. Own something designer
9. Design/code my own wordpress theme
10. Watch all of the Bond films
11. Complete NanoWrimo
12. See the Northern Lights
13. Do a hot air balloon ride
14. Get a spray tan (seriously, I’m from Essex and I’ve never done this)
15. Travel first class
16. Make a dress
17. Join an amateur dramatics group
18. Invent a cupcake
19. Read something considered an ‘epic’ novel/book
20. See Cats the Musical
21. Try a curry
22. Get off antidepressants
23. Have a serious conversation about parenting/start planning for a baby
24. Attend/throw a fancy dress theme party
25. Pull an all-nighter (done this before, but not in a LONG time)
26. Visit Edinburgh/attend Edinburgh festival
27. Watch films I’ve not seen from the Empire Top 200 – listed HERE
28. Visit Stratford Upon Avon
29. Have a Centre Parcs holiday
30. Learn a second language

And there we go, folks. The countdown starts now. Wish me luck!

I’m not going to go back over my story, you can read it here if you fancy boring yourselves.

I still don’t look like I’m suffering, at least I don’t think I do. Sure, I often look a bit drained and I tend to have acne breakouts that I should have been over at least 10 years ago. But that’s the thing about chronic illnesses. Lupus, CFS, ME, MS, Fibromyalgia, etc. Visible symptoms aren’t typical. When I tell someone that I’m suffering with a chronic illness I think they assume I’ll have a drip behind me, or perhaps a frequent flyer card to the local hospital. Doesn’t work like that sadly, you’re just going to have to take my word for it that if I’m awake, something hurts.

I’m also one of the lucky ones; there are some fibro sufferers that are frequently confined to their beds, physically unable to function. Admittedly there are days where I wake up and whimper a bit because I’m in stupid amounts of pain without even moving. But I’ve managed to find the right balance of gentle exercise (yoga), painkillers and pacing myself. Having people around me that are understanding helps. Sometimes I don’t really feel as though I can manage a full night in a pub, but I’m lucky enough to have friends that don’t pressure me about it. There’ll be days where I’m concentrating very hard on not letting that sharp pain in my back overwhelm me – so much so I’m very quiet. I’m lucky enough that my friends and colleagues don’t assume that it’s me being a ‘moody cow’, or god forbid, sulking.

So, if you know someone that’s been diagnosed with fibromyalgia please do them a favour and pull back on your judgement. Just because they’re not showing typical signs associated with sickness doesn’t mean that they aren’t fighting their own enormous battle on the inside, trying to find an equilibrium that allows them to have a life.

I don’t look sick and sometimes I let myself believe that maybe I won’t always feel sick.

As seasons change I tend to get reflective, this one is no different. When we moved to Peterborough three years ago, I was newly diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and we wanted to settle into a quieter pace of life with the intention of dropping anchor here indefinitely. Then in January 2012, things began to unravel and we (as a family) would face our hardest 18 months ever.

Just before Christmas 2011, my Dad sneezed and then complained of back pain. A few months down the line he was getting worse and having trouble walking, despite numerous doctor visits. Finally in early summer last year, he was taken into hospital and they found a tumour on his spine. He was also diagnosed with myeloma and suddenly we were faced with the prospect that he may not be well enough to make our October wedding. This alone stressed me out more than I can express.

Owing to this change in situation I made the decision to downgrade my job to a part-time deal. In finding a position that allowed me to do this I received a rather hefty amount of apathy from all kinds of angles, and don’t even get me started on how unkind people were to me in my new post.

Then, people we considered to be our best friends just up and left from our lives, claiming that we were being too selfish about our wedding. Given what we were already dealing with (work issues, a critically ill father), I think I was actually remaining fairly level-headed. They also vanished with several hundred quid and some personal effects that we lent them. They forced us to go through the courts to get our money back and we did (obviously we’ve been able to prove all along that we were in the right). We decided to leave the issue of personal belongings and put it down to experience. We were both massively damaged; people that we put ourselves out for both emotionally and financially totally screwed us. I for one am in no hurry to trust anyone ever again.

The wedding of course was a bright beacon in the fog – my Dad made it and was able to travel down the aisle with me, albeit with my Grandad pushing him in a wheelchair.

Me and my dear Dad, with my Grandad

Then 5th November 2012, things spiralled. Dad went into intensive care, and just a few weeks later I found myself jobless. Despite the upward trend he experienced during December, my Dad sadly lost his fight with various illnesses just before Christmas.

Out of a job, but more than willing and able to work I threw myself into a job hunt in the new year, but was faced with ‘sorry, you’re over-qualified’, ‘we’ve found someone who will work for less money’ and ‘ah, that job went internally’. I also found the government screwing me and refusing me JSA because in their minds it was my husband’s duty to financially support me. There’s a happy ending to this thread at least – I’ve been in my new job for a month and I adore it.

April 2013 – we lost one of our darling cats, Spike. He had kidney disease, so we always knew he wasn’t going to live to be an old cat, but we weren’t expecting to lose him at just five years old. We were devastated – still are – that his kidneys just couldn’t work anymore. It felt like another stab in the heart after more than a year of pain. Then my poor Mum got shoved through the wringer with a myriad of problems arising with the house and garden putting her under strain.

All of this while dealing with chronic health issues and adjusting to life as a newlywed. I know there are always people going through their own personal hell, but honestly, it’s been feeling a bit like some higher power has it in for our family.

But do you know what? We’re still here. My husband, Mum, family and our best friends. All facing huge mountains of adversity – we’ve stuck together and are firmly looking ahead. Rather than looking behind us or at the ground, we’ve got a horizon out there so there’s no choice but to head towards it with our heads up.

Me and my phenomenal Ma

So, while this isn’t really a blog with a particular direction, it is one that fits the May Challenge of putting thought into a post. Maybe it’s a lesson to remember; that when you find your tribe (The Bloggess once told me of this term), hold onto them and feel secure in the knowledge that even the rockiest of paths are passable if you’ve got someone to help you get up when you fall and giggle as they dust off your muddy arse.

I love you guys. Y’all know who you are.

Featured pic credit: James Thorpe Photography – me (right) on my wedding day with my beautiful maid of honour Alex

*note* – I’ve already covered the issue of ‘if you don’t like it, don’t read it’, so let’s not go there again. We ALL know how much us bloggers and media types love to get our hands dirty with a good old opinion battle. 

I’m not personally a reader of the Daily Mail and am particularly against the general tone they follow so I won’t link to anything from them, but as an example:

Samantha Brick – Found notoriety after writing a column about other women hating her simply because she’s beautiful. Such was the saccharine and self-serving voice of the piece it caused a response on Twitter that was akin to hiding the bottle opener at a house party. And then came the inevitable satire. Observe:

She then found herself at the centre of another furore recently when she wrote about being on a permanent diet and how all women should do this to please their man – but more on that in a moment.

Jan Moir – Most well known for her – and there’s no better way to put this – disgraceful article on the death of ex-Boyzone singer Stephen Gately. It was a thinly veiled homophobic attack spouting the Mail’s underlying agenda. Rightly so, the public reaction was one of vast horror. Other than that she mainly restricts herself to whining about other women in general (especially if they are considered attractive). I suspect she sees herself as a crusader sent to single handedly keep sexism in the media alive and kicking. Recently got owned by singer Katherine Jenkins. It was delightful.

Liz Jones – Oh, Liz. Some time ago she wrote a lifestyle article about her ‘lovely’ day out in Bristol. In actual fact she was using the tragic murder of a young woman to force purple prose upon us while trying to maintain that it was serious journalism. She’s also another one that is alarmingly out of touch with the modern woman.

To an extent I agree that these women are purposefully constructing inflammatory articles to get a reaction, after all it sells newspapers and keeps the Mail in the public conscience and in an age where a large portion of people now get their news online, this is a valuable ‘skill’. I think there’s something a little more worrying about these women though, a deep seated craving for the attention that can only come from being controversial.

Samantha Brick was recently invited onto daytime TV show This Morning to explain herself after claiming that any self respecting woman is always dieting. Some of the more cringe-worthy comments in the article centred around her enjoying the feeling of hunger pangs and her assertion that any woman that dares oppose her is clearly just fat and jealous. On the sofa to challenge Brick’s claims was Body Gossip pioneer Natasha Devon (follow her on Twitter, she’s wonderful). One thing became more clear as the interview progressed, Brick’s body language wasn’t that of someone confident in her convictions. She seemed to shrink against the quite frankly gentle grilling from Natasha Devon, Phil Schofield and Holly Willoughby. It made me question if she really believes what she’s preaching – and her distinct lack of facial contortion at Devon’s counter-claims that women should focus on being healthy and happy made me feel as though she was actually fully agreeing with what she was hearing.

It feels as though Samantha Brick is a one-trick pony that the Daily Mail wheel out when a bit of spice is needed, knowing full well that she has the power to trend on Twitter, with thousands upon thousands of comments berating her. Isn’t that a little bit sad? I’m not a straight-down-the-line feminist per se, but I do believe very firmly in equality and women NOT slut-shaming each other while fanning the flames of sexism in the media. There’s MORE than enough mixed messages flying about and I can’t help but think that these women ‘journalists’ are carefully positioned to hold back the progression that popular culture so sorely needs.

I don’t have the solution to this, nor do I even know what would change the attitude of these writers and their supporters. Maybe a little bit of solidarity. A good start is the call for Jan Moir to run next year’s London Marathon after her attack on Jenkins, though I doubt she’d actually do it. I hope she proves me wrong.

What do you guys think? Do we actually NEED this type of female perspective to unite the rest of us in pushing equality forward?

If it wasn’t already obvious, I’m a huge fan of pretty much everything Joss Whedon has ever done and most importantly I’m marginally obsessed with Buffyverse. When we got our cats five years ago we named them Oz and Spike, or to use their full names Daniel Osbourne and William Pratt (or William The Bloody). After we lost Spike to kidney disease last month, we knew we’d be getting a rescue cat at some point, so Oz wasn’t alone (he likes company).

Today the rescue cat we picked out came home with us, and we named him Wesley. He’s currently shut away in a separate room to settle in and let Oz get used to his scent. He has a bit of a sad story; he was found by the side of the road, skinny as hell and with patchy fur where someone had obviously tried to hack off his long coat with scissors. He’s a sweetheart though, with a bit of a naughty streak. Definitely a Wesley.

I’ll be doing regular updates as he settles in. He’s not had the best start in his short 18months on this planet and we’ve been grieving – we’ll help each other heal.

And seriously… he is GORGEOUS.

The main problem I’m having with blogging at the moment is still my issue with identity. I’m not a beauty blogger. Nor do I sit in the niche of Mum blogs. I’m not a health blog either. I am also not a funny blogger. My identity is that of a 28-year old British chick with various health issues that I should be having in 50 year’s time, not now. And I have a lot of anger-based opinions. I still haven’t figured out WHY I’m so angry, but I run with it because it generally keeps me from stabbing my pillow in the middle of the night.

Anyway, I’m wrapping this non-entry up with a little teaser for Saturday’s post – there will be pictures of kitties.

Then, while catching up on blogs I follow, I stumbled across May 2013 Blogging Challenge via The Blog Design Network. Check it out, definitely work a look if like me, you’re in the midst of an inspiration dry patch!

Come on May, come and have a go.

I don’t have a massively impressive track record with hyped beauty products. MAC Prep & Prime, Bobbi Brown Gel Liner, ANY Maybelline or Rimmel foundation, liquid liner in genreal. Then, there are some products that prove time and time again that they are worth every rave review they get (UDPP I’m looking at you, babe).

Hairbrushes haven’t ever really been a huge ‘must buy’ for me. I brush my hair and that’s pretty much it. But years of abuse have left my hair somewhat weak and now I’m in my late 20s, I feel compelled to make the effort to be a little more careful. I’ve read dozens of reviews about the Tangle Teezer brush, each and every one of them singing its praises. I bought myself one of the little tikes a couple of weeks ago and it’s official. We’re in love.

Out of the box it’s fairly nondescript and looks like a fairly standard plastic brush, albeit one that fits in the palm rather nicely. Then you start using it and suddenly the ‘TV advert’ syndrome kicks in and there are coos of ‘WOW’, ‘Ah-MAY-zing’ and ‘it REALLY works!”.

I thought I would use a thoroughly gross pair of pictures to illustrate my point. When my hair is awkwardly between wet and dry, it snags like hell when I brush it, years of bleaching have robbed my hair of its young elasticity. I brushed half my head with my classic Soap and Glory handbag brush, the other half with the Teezer (about 10 sweeps per brush). I then examined the damage and photographed it for you lucky lot.

First up, the S&G brush.

Ew, I know.

Aaaand drum roll please…

Yes, that’s a single hair. A SINGLE HAIR. I shit you not, this thing had to be made by voodoo priests. It’s that good.

I don’t often endorse going out and buying something based on my opinion, but seriously, this one is worth every pretty penny.

£10.99 from Boots