I’m sorry I’m me…

I’m in the midst of a major mood change and it’s the middle of the night, so I just wanted to let stuff off my chest. I know people always say shit like “don’t apologise for being you” but I always feel the need to. I want to be this girl who likes to joke around, be creative and just someone that people gets on with… but I feel like my mental health gets in the way.

My anxiety is something I can deal with. It’s really bad, but I can accept having anxiety. But it’s my cyclothymia that fucks me around. It’s a form of bi polar and even though it’s been around 6-7 years since I was diagnosed, I feel like it’s changing. They say you’re supposed to outgrow it when you get to your early twenties, but for me it’s like it’s not going away at all… from what I was told, if it doesn’t go by a certain age then it’s just bi polar.

You see, I can never just have a normal mood swing. I’m either on a real high, where I’m hyper, excitable, laugh at anything and everything (it’s called manic mode) or on a real low, where I’m really down, upset, closed off and sometimes suicidal. I’ve been trying for years to try and control it and I always want to play it cool around friends – like I have some amazing friends and while I’m not close to them all, I still wanna be someone they’ll like and get along with and think “oh yeah, Jazz is cool” but I’m always a mess.I’m too hyper and I think it pisses people off. I think it pushes people away or makes them think I’m crazy. I am crazy, I guess. But I don’t mean to be. I feel like I can’t be in a stable “play it cool, be normal” mood. Ever. And it’s like the harder I try to be, the worse it gets.

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Opposites Attract?

I had every intention of posting this on Thursday because of Demisexual Pride, but I’ve been busy and so that didn’t happen. But it is now.

I thought since it’s Pride Month, I’d talk about sexuality, how I feel about my own and my own personal theory (which is not proven to be true or false, just something that makes sense in my head). I’ve been an ally for the LGBTQA+ community pretty much all my life (I would say all but ask a kid, it wasn’t really talked about and so I wasn’t so much aware, but secondary school we became very aware) and with so many friends and family identifying in many different ways, it’s something important to me. Like the community’s rights and activism is something I would put towards the top of my priority list.

Because of this and my lack of relationships in school (and life), this made me go on a bit of a personal journey trying to discover who I am. For my entire secondary school life, people were adamant I was lesbian. No boyfriend or real crush on anyone = you are lesbian. Because that logic is legitimate. Day in, day out, people would force this assumption onto me to the point where I felt they knew me better than I did. Maybe I was a lesbian. Maybe I saw no attraction in guys. For some time, I thought about the possibilities of being attracted to women. But nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nothing at all. So if I wasn’t attracted to guys or girls… then what? Was I broken? Back then, the only sexualities we were aware of were straight, gay, lesbian, bi and some of us knew a little bit about being transgender. I’ll be honest, school was shite in teaching us about sexualities. Like it wasn’t covered. Never brought up. Our sex ed was pretty abysmal, but that’s a whole other story.

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It’s currently midnight on 30th May and I’m finally letting the adrenaline highs from a music gig settle down. Yesterday was pretty interesting in the good kind of way. As you know, I write for United By Pop and yesterday I had the pleasure of interviewing singer-songwriter turned YouTuber, Emma Blackery.

I’ve been a supporter of Emma’s for some time, now. I love her music and her sense of humour, but her being a fellow LUSH fan really drew me to being a regular viewer of her channel. My friend, Lily, and I often watch her videos and talk about the products she discusses. I’ve been doing interviews since I was 15, but I still very much get anxiety, but having been rather poorly with my mental health for about six months, this was my first interview since beginning to get back on my feet and the anxiety was quite something.

Put it this way, my mother always tells me to go out and do what I want to do in life, but I was so anxious, she was suggesting I call the thing off. But I couldn’t. I knew.knew that if I let my demons win again, I will be kicking myself for a good few months. It’s happened before and I wasn’t going to let it happen again.

My cousin, Emily, was my plus one to the concert that night after Emma’s PR kindly gave us press tickets in exchange of a review. We decided to get to Cardiff a few hours earlier because we haven’t seen each other in a while and also, going to do something would ease my stress a bit. Emily was a total saint and really calmed me down throughout the day, but when it came around to the interview, the anxious side of me took over again.

I felt exhausted – I spent the past 72 hours in and out of hospital for other health issues and though I slept the night before, my body was pretty fed up. But those anxious vibes were racing around me. I was listing every single possible issue that could go wrong.

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It was in no way my intention to start my journal with such an emotional post, but I need to just share my thoughts without having to physically speak about it.

I was in my room, as per usual, at around 11pm when my friend, Josh, tweeted about an “incident” that had happened at Ariana Grande’s concert in Manchester. I checked it out and saw Twitter had made a moment with different tweets, early news reports and panicked fans tweeting out videos of what was happening. At first, it was just rumoured that a giant helium balloon had burst following the finale of Grande’s set, but when I saw a news reporter say he could see some fans covered in blood along with hundreds of emergency services rushing to the scene following the reports of an explosion.

I ran downstairs and put BBC News on to see BREAKING across the screen and news reporters live at the scene. It was still really early on and nobody knew what was going on. Many were hoping and praying it was an electrical explosion because God help if it was what any of us feared it would be.

As a massive music supporter, I live and breathe the life of being a fan. I support a number of artists passionately. I’ve made friends around the globe; many whom I have met in person, been supportive of every project they do and of course, attended the concerts. For me, my entire year is a countdown to the next concert I attend. I love to plan the whole day of the event. When I’ll meet friends, seeing what fan projects are taking place, what I’ll wear, seeing whether or not I’ll be staying at a hotel and sorting things out for there, too. I know the feeling of that adrenaline high when the artist has left the stage and though it’s a bit sad the show is over, you’re still feeling that rush running through your entire body and the energy is oh so high in the venue. Your mind is buzzing with excitement as you try and find your way outside to meet with other people and embark on your journey from the concert. I’ve often heard funny noises leaving that kind of environment and being a jumpy and anxious person, I always assume the worst, but so far every unusual noise I’ve experience has proven to be nothing but equipment. I cannot fathom the kinds of vibes and thoughts of the people in Manchester Arena that night when they realised it was a dangerous situation and they had to get out as soon as possible. Continue reading


I like to write

I’ve always wanted to have a journal to keep, but I’ve never been any good at it. I’d always get those diaries with a lock pad when I was younger, but I only ever put about two entries tops. I’d often lose it in my messy bedroom and never really knew what to put in it. I think that having poor handwriting from the word go didn’t help. Back in primary school, my handwriting was a mess. Of course, when you first start learning to write at four or five, your handwriting isn’t going to be the neatest, but as the kids in my class’ penmanship became less scrawly and more readable, mine didn’t. Year after year, the only flaw in my school report would be “handwriting needs improvement”. Of course, I hated my handwriting, but I also hated using a pen. I could never find comfort in it and after about a page and a half of doing school work, my hand would cramp up.

Hello, it’s me

My horrible handwriting problems followed me up to secondary school and though I could sort of make it a slight bit more readable than my primary schooldays, it was still pretty abysmal. Teachers continued to point out this issue and I was even enrolled in handwriting classes, meaning every Tuesday I’d have to spend my lunchtimes in a classroom trying to learn how to write properly. But you could have put me in that classroom every lunchtime for my entire school life, it still would have done no good. If I write really slow, I can now get it to look quite average, so I spend time writing birthday cards and the like, but if you want me to write at a good speed, I’m sorry, you’ll get a spider scrawl. When I left school and signed up to do a college course, the tutor watched me fill in the admission forms, turned to me and said “you’ve got a lot going on in your mind, haven’t you? Pretty creative and always thinking.” I nodded in awe at his psychic abilities, but it turns out he can just tell a lot from the way someone puts pen to paper.

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