TIME TO CHANGE – Celebrities on Mental Health

a day in my adhd life

My Dearest Readers,

Today, like any other day, was a struggle. A day of being embarrassed about the way I think and act (or don’t think before I act), a day of stress and a day of deep anxiety. But I’ve got something a little different for you tonight.

What I thought I would do was look for support online. And I came across Channing Tatum. Now Mr. Tatum is one of my favourite actors, (his beautiful eyes, body and face do play a teeny bit of a part…), but I also happen to know that he had a very difficult past. He suffered with ADHD and Dyslexia as a child, and thought that there was no hope for him. He is now one of the highest-payed actors in the business. What does that tell you? mental illness doesn’t mean you can’t succeed. You must find what you’re good at…

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The Art of Getting By

The Art of Getting By. It’s an easy concept, really. You go to school, you do your homework, you eat, you go to bed. That’s life. At this stage work is the priority. Exam results = a good future. That’s all very well, and I agree. Just sometimes it all gets a bit much and you just go to bed and you cry. Not because life bad because it’s not. Not because you’re upset because you’re not. Just because life isn’t easy and sometimes you just need a hug to tell you it’s all going to be alright. That person to hold you close and say ‘we’re gonna be alright’. But sometimes things don’t feel alright. They just don’t. You know they will be just, at that moment in time, you want to hide under your duvet with your teddies and cry. Tell them why you’re crying. Hug them until they’re wet with tears and let them look after you. At least they listen. Then you wake up in the morning, get dressed and face the day. That’s how it is. And it’s alright. You’re alright.

When you find that person, though. That one person why truly does make you feel safe. The person who makes you feel at home with them, safe as you nuzzle into their chest, or you wipe your wet eyes on their shoulder as they embrace you, look after you. But those are tears of happiness. Tears of safety. Tears that tell you that the emotion you are feeling is so perfect that your body doesn’t recognise it. It doesn’t know what to do so it cries. But they’re also ‘time goes fast’ tears. Tears that constantly remind you, in the pit of your stomach, that it’s too perfect. Not too perfect in the sense that it can’t happen. Not that at all. Everyone deserves happiness and if you find the one, you find the one. But I mean tears that tell you that your time with him is limited. It’s counted. Each second, you get closer to the moment when you have to leave him again. Not permanently leave him, just, go away for a while. You long for the day when you can live together, have no time limits on anything, no curfew. But right now, that’s just not the reality. You have a life, a home, a family, school. Boarding school to be precise. You leave that one person who understands you, who gets you, who makes you feel safe. You just have to walk away like you’re okay, go home, be pleasant. All you want to do is curl up in a ball. It’ll be three months until you next see him, three months until you feel this happy and this alive. Three months of tears that aren’t happy tears. Not because life’s bad, because it’s not. It’s just tough. So you cry. Tears of tiredness, tears of working hard, tears of upsets with your friends, tears of worry. But most of all tears of missing him. Tears of I love him. Tears saying I’m okay but really, I’m not.

You study for exams, work hard for your life, your future, your parents, you want a great future, of course you do. But all the time you long for that feeling of safety that you know so well but only distantly remember. Of security. Of knowing that you have someone. Some days you’re fine. And some days it just gets to you more than others. But you just swallow the tears and the feeling sorry for yourself, that scratchy feeling you get in your throat that tells you you’re sad, that sinking feeling in your stomach. Because that’s The Art of Getting By, isn’t it?