Clocks Go Forward


We all felt how violently that hour lurched forward, right? We all heard the big ‘fuck you and fuck your sleep’ in the sixty seconds between 00:59 and 02:00, right?

Daylight Savings, the horrible spoon of thick medicine we all needed, the forceful push into British Summertime as we had an hour thieved from us. The quintessential sign that summer is just around the corner, regardless of the fact that it’s horrible and grey outside, that we were plagued with torrential rain just the other day.

Today I woke up to the sun shining through my window, ate way too much brunch way too late, and sank into the sofa for an incredibly tense, nail-biting race. The first race of the 2021 Formula 1 season: the Bahrain GP. I saw Nikita Mazepin spin out on his first ever F1 lap, I watched Verstappen relentlessly fight like the charging bull he is, failing to snap first place back from the king himself, all whilst being gifted with little fiery battles between some of my favourite drivers. It was a great end to a horrible week, taking it from an almost-2 to a strong 9. There is a special place in my heart for Formula 1; I’ve always known I love the sport in the decade-plus that I’ve followed it, but I really sat there, after the first race of the season, and thought about how it feels like a void has been filled. Is that sad? It’s quite sad, isn’t it?

Credit: @MercedesAMGF1 on Twitter

No, it isn’t.

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I'll be me [Mental Health – Part 1]

Here’s a long post, read it if you have time. Like 5 minutes, realistically.
Also: If you can figure out what’s written on that notepad, I’ll dedicate a post to you.
So.
What am I doing these days.
Well.
First of all, I’m going to try my hardest not to incorporate my infamous self depreciating humour into this post, even though that is my biggest coping mechanism.
These days I’m reading, writing, researching, and listening to a lot of James Bay.
And I’m thinking.
I’m doing a lot of thinking, but I’m also doing a lot of …just … not thinking.
In other words: I’m keeping myself busy.
I try not to write about mental health, even though I should, because almost every blog I visit has posts about ‘dealing with depression’ or ‘dealing with anxiety’ or just ‘mental health’. And it makes me wonder how many of these people really do suffer from these issues, or if they’re just self diagnosed. As someone who has had doctors referring them to therapists and pestering them to take anti-depressants, it’s a bit … I don’t know. Annoying. It’s the reason I don’t enjoy speaking about my own mental health. I’m fine, but I’ll never deny that anxiety is my biggest enemy.
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Mental health + university

All ye who indulge in schadenfreude, gather round.
It’s not mental health awareness week/month/whatever, but alas, not everything is restricted to a particular time of year. I talk about this now because, as a third year student, the pressure when you have looming deadlines and a dissertation that will basically determine whether or not you just wasted £27,000, is crippling. In addition to everything that crippled you before university.
So understandably, a lot of us are faltering in the mental health department. I’m not saying that a lot of us suffer from mental illness, because a lot of us don’t. I have already spoken about how too many people claim ‘depression’ or ‘bipolar’ when they don’t actually suffer from these illnesses, but that doesn’t mean our mental health doesn’t suffer. Much like physical issues, our brain sometimes suffers
It often comes in many contradicting forms. Maybe you stay up until dawn, downing red bull and coffee for hours until you’re seeing shapes dancing around in front of you, telling you it’s time to go to bed or you’ll collapse. Maybe it’s rejecting all invitations to go out, go shopping, relax, because you have too much to do and you couldn’t possibly deal with the guilt you’ll feel when you get a horrible grade, because it’s obviously due to that one day you took off. Maybe you consistently study because it’s the only thing to distract your mind but at the same time it’s burning you out. Maybe it’s the tendency to sleep all day and all night because you have so much work to do that your brain and body just can’t deal. Maybe it’s going out all day everyday just to avoid the 5 deadlines you have next week. Maybe it’s people telling you you look sallow and tired and that you’re working too hard. Maybe it’s the fact that you can’t remember a time where you had the energy to be genuinely happy about life because life itself is begging to leave you.
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You're tied to a train track, but I'm gonna come rescue you

Personal
I’m about to get real philosophical here.
When life is kicking you down, it’s natural to become dangerously ruthless due to the feeling that things can’t possibly be worse. You realise how temporary everything is. You realise what’s important, and what’s not, but oftentimes, when you’re in this position, you tend to view everything with a negative light. What’s the point in anything. There’s nothing good about anything so you might as well fuck shit up. Everything is shit, so look on the brightest side you can, which is probably a dark shade of grey. My favourite.
Most importantly, you realise that you don’t have to deal with anything you don’t have to.
I quit my job that I was a part of for four years. The managers were  assholes, it’s a shit company and I don’t want to affiliate myself with them anymore. Last week it was my last day, and a shitty one at that. Four years working at that place, 2 years with that particular company and I didn’t even get a goodbye! I don’t mean a goodbye gift or party or whatever. I mean literally the word ‘bye’. The only person who did was my OLD MANAGER who called me twice to wish me the best. It’s always the companies that pretend to care about their employees that are actually the worst. The company is Max Spielmann. Fuck them. I hope you sack of shitnuggets read this somehow. I hate liars.
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You're NOT depressed, the weather is NOT bipolar.

Robin Williams was a man who played an undeniably huge part in our childhoods when our eyes were glued to the TV when Jumanji or Mrs Doubtfire were on, and I can’t deny that, although I don’t place any higher importance on a celebrity than anybody else, his death really saddens me. Apparently it was a suicide, brought on by depression. I understand many people are upset at this news, but the responses I’ve read are amazing (see: ridiculous). This is the comments section of an article posted by Daily Mail (although I do admit I regularly read the comments section for bants, this one in particular is perfect for highlighting a problem that exists in society):

1) Apparently fame/fortune deny you the ability to suffer from depression.
Okay, moron, and all other morons who share this view, are you aware that nobody chooses to be depressed? Are you aware that it is an illness? Are you aware that you could be famous or rich and suffer from a physical deformity that is out of your power? Are you therefore also aware that you could have everything you ever want in the world and still suffer from a mental illness? Other people having it “worse off” than you does NOT negate your unhappiness. And never let anybody think it does. It doesn’t matter if people in other countries are being bombed or starved, that does NOT mean you aren’t allowed to be unhappy or suffer from a mental illness. You DO NOT CHOOSE TO SUFFER FROM A DISORDER.  
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