A Kitchen Rag For A Toxic Spill.

As I write, there’s a strong desire to stop, save the embarrassment and ridicule, and just continue to deal with this alone. My friends will read this and probably get frustrated that I went to social media before speaking to them. I need them to understand, this isn’t personal.


To pin point exactly when my depression first revealed itself would require digging into my memory and uncovering traumatic events which I don’t want to relive and to be frank I don’t think it’s necessary for this blog post. I’m sure by now you're probably extremely concerned or bored of my suspense and rambling. I’m apprehensive about sharing right now and I’m writing as its coming to my mind. I’m stalling and holding back the possibility of crying which I haven’t done in months…


I feel like I’ve failed. At life, at being a woman, at being myself.

(Tears start to flow)


Each day I wake up and I question my purpose. Some days I’m filled with stupendous motivation, so great it scares me because I lack direction like a car with a full tank and nowhere to go. Most days the fear of trying and failing is enough for me not to try at all. I just do, I just live, I’m just here. No feeling of fulfilment, just an ornament on a mantelpiece.

My cycle begins: hide from friends, hide from family, eat excessively, hide from pictures, repeat.


After all the years of building myself up, watching jstlbby videos and relearning how to love myself, I’m STILL not totally in love with myself? I want a refund on all the self help books I bought.


I’m so afraid of failure, I don’t want to push myself out of my comfort zone. At this moment I realised I can no longer blame anyone but myself.


Suddenly a memory I suppressed so heavily replays in my mind and the more I try to supress it the more intense it becomes. My last relationship had me broken in ways I’ve never ever imagined. Can you see yourself giving absolutely everything, from the peaks of your happiness to the nadir of your sadness to someone who only wanted the fruits of your greatness leaving you futile? (Damn, can someone say Carol Anne Duffy?) I spent the majority of that relationship helping him build his future. As soon as you express your aspirations I’m the kind of person who will jump straight onto google and find out exactly how it can be done. My friends appreciate this, he certainly did not. He was so insecure about my drive, he would insult me, tear me down and emotionally abuse me. He would make me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be with him but shortly after profess that he wasn’t good enough for me. All the while my extremely naïve nurturing complex made me want to help more because I saw the broken man inside. I allowed myself to be a kitchen rag for his toxic spill. I tolerated the mood swings. I tolerated the sex after the verbal abuse. It wasn’t until he had sex with another girl that I realised enough was enough. Isn’t it unbelievable that I could accept all the emotional abuse but didn’t feel to leave until my ego was bruised? I should have left a long time ago. But I finally did.

Then, I went back.

For a reason I still can not comprehend, I trusted that the person inside him would reveal himself and he would show the good inside him. (Alexa play 6ix9ine Stoopid.) He revealed himself when he punched me in my left eye, repeatedly. I didn’t leave the house for a week.


I never dealt with that situation, I just moved on, just like when I was sexually assaulted at 8, there was no clarity, no closure… I just moved on. After leaving for the last time I decided to abstain from sex, not date and engross myself heavily into the gym.  In therapy we talk about it here and there but to this day, I’ve never expressed how much it broke me. I created a wall so thick I even locked my true self out.


He would continuously terrorise me by coming to my place of work with different women. 

My anxiety just got worse and worse and worse. Running to the staff toilets to vomit, yeah.. that worse. 

You know what’s crazy? I don’t hate the guy. I never hated him. I hated myself, for allowing someone to change my moral standpoint. I never truly forgave myself. I don’t trust my own judgement, with anything.

(Moment of revelation)


I don’t trust that even whilst doing everything “right” I’ll see results I want or happiness in fact. I can’t afford to give anymore, I’m emotionally drained.


This has been going on for months, I’m tired of feeling lost because I have purpose. My purpose is to help, inspire and motivate others through my story which affects so many people. I just need to get out of my head and be confident in that.


Each month women trust me enough to help them with their fitness goals and allow me into their most vulnerable space, for every woman who has taken part in the Keto Success Academy, or bought a cookbook, or DMed for advice, you’ve given me purpose. You don’t understand how much you’ve helped pull me from my lowest point. You make me feel appreciated, you help me see my worth.


Accepting that loving someone is never a mistake, it’s a sign of pure-heartedness. I will learn to trust myself. I can do it, I can achieve anything.


I’m ready for the next chapter of my life, I think I’m going to call it:


I forgive me.