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Where Did My Confidence Go?


Lately, I’ve received messages from friends who have recognized that my ‘Insta-Game’ is not as strong as it once was. If you are not well versed in low-brow millennial speak, it effectively means I have not been posting frequent, valuable content on Instagram. Instagram was a social media platform that I was rather fond of, but I was often taken aback by its competitive nature and the sad comparative feelings that follow.

Now, this is not an opinion piece on ‘Is Instagram good or bad for your mental health?’ - the topic has truly been exhausted and I doubt I have any comment to contribute that you haven’t already heard. Still, I have been paying attention to my thought patterns lately and I recognized myself falling down a negative space, and perhaps the Instagram link has re-emerged.

Last year, I was a girl on fire. I felt wonderful, I thought I looked pretty and I radiated confidence. I posted content that made me feel good. If I uploaded an image of myself, it was an image that I felt beautiful in just as I was – I didn’t want to keep up with everyone else because I accepted that I couldn’t. My best offering was myself. Recently however, I’ve been plagued with negative feelings about how I look. I have not gained weight, there have been no radical changes to my features – but I don’t feel as confident as I once did. I make less of an effort with fashion, I shun the opportunity to be in photographs, I avoid nights out and I am stuck in a pattern of wishing myself different… a little bit more toned, a little less freckly. In my mind there’s been a vanity-themed Cluedo game running overtime… where did my confidence go?

With the homecoming of the reality show ‘Love Island’, where startlingly attractive single people all date in a villa, there have been a lot of jokes made by females that they feel their self esteem has been lowered by seeing an abundance of alluring women. I think to myself: perhaps I’ve drawn these comparisons too, after all I have become an addict to this reality TV show – however, I don’t feel quite compelled to put down the biscuits and hit the treadmill after watching. Although, there is an obvious link, and it’s working on me unknowingly. A lot of us females do compare ourselves, often subconsciously. A TV show which fails to represent diversity, can quickly have us thinking – ‘so this is what beauty is’.

Which brings me to my next obvious link: the unachievable over-editing of female bodies. With social media and an image editing application - a little nip and tuck is within everyone’s grasp. We can all now represent ourselves in whatever fashion we want to, it’s just miserable that so many of us elect to conform to what we think is the image of beauty. After discussing with one of my friends recently the trend of women manipulating their images to have the ‘Kim Kardashian’ big hips and a tiny waist, I discussed how it did not make me feel better about my body type, despite having broad hips and a petite midsection too. I have the body type that many women give the illusion of or try to achieve, but I have the unsightly, realistic version – the one that comes with cellulite on my thighs, tiger stripes on my bum and ill-fitting clothes. The lack of representation of women with cellulite and stretch marks, perhaps too, is what makes me feel in many moments as ‘not attractive enough’.

I understand many of you will be hearing the tiny violins, and I apologise if it seems I have invited you all to my pity party. Some people think I am ‘lucky’ to have my body type and to be really tall with blonde hair. But most of my life I have heard comments that ‘tanned, petite brunettes are stunning’. It’s harder to see beauty in yourself, especially when you are constantly drawing comparisons. Over time it can become ingrained that if you don’t look like the popular ‘trend’ of beauty, you are not attractive. Visually, I’m essentially a big sunflower – but why would I want to be a sunflower when roses are the notoriously beautiful ones?

I believe all people should be able to style themselves however they like and do whatever makes them feel good. But am I the only one who is tired? Surely it’s not practical that we all strain to look the same with all of the same features? There’s a lack of diversity that I have always known, but when I am not making the effort to repeatedly acknowledge it – it manages to brainwash me all over again! Kim Kardashian is whom I would regard as today’s icon of ‘beauty’, but that doesn’t mean we are not gorgeous human beings because of our own ways. It’s cliché but it needs reiterated time and time again that all races, all sizes and all people with all kinds of features are beautiful in their own way. The beauty standard changes as time goes on - once we believed stick-thin models were the most beautiful, now it’s women with specific curves. We can’t expect ourselves to constantly evolve how we look to keep up with what the media and society regard as ‘gorgeous’.

When I round up all my thoughts, it becomes clear. I started to withdraw myself from social media because I thought I couldn’t keep up with all these tan, curvy brunettes, and that I was always going to be the lanky woman with freckles. The vanity Cluedo gives it up: I have been indoctrinated once again.

I addressed my toxic thinking just last year when I had noticed the brewing of low self-esteem through comparing myself. The argument I make is not new, and we all know that there are constant endorsements of unrealistic beauty standards – we have all heard this argument before. However, the sad reality is, if you don’t make the effort to stay aware of what’s going on, you could be influenced subconsciously by the repetitive images of what’s ‘beautiful’ just through exposure to it.

So starting from now: I’m going to make a conscious effort to stop dodging photos with family and friends. I am going to wear the things that I used to wear that made me feel good, and go forward intentionally oblivious to what other people are doing. I need to reaffirm to myself that the qualities that make me different, are what make me enchanting.

In a garden full of roses that I will never look like, I’ll just stick to being the sunflower.



The Bipolar Millennial Woman


Being Bipolar as a millennial is gruelling. I am 22 years old, trying to navigate my professional life, social life and dating life - so mentally I’m always somewhere between Tramadol and Zopiclone. It’s challenging trying to keep up in the digital age anyway, never mind trying to keep up when I’m having - what feels like - an identity crisis. Fortunately, we’re in an age where mental illness is social media popular and everyone totally understands mental health… well kind-of.

I didn’t pick a more familiar unipolar depression or an anxiety disorder out of my mental health lucky bag, so I pulled the short straw in terms of an illness that has sympathy or understanding. I can employ some of the lessons for depression and anxiety to myself, because my illness is an umbrella of mental illnesses - I get depression and anxiety too! So when it’s one of those social media days like ‘Mental Health Awareness Day’, I can really take in the indispensible teachings that I find on social media to cure myself of my Bipolar Disorder. For example: the Instagram quotes.

‘Smile’. - Innovative, well mannered, inspiriting – I always like a reminder.

A poignant Ghandi quote that certainly wasn’t penned by Ghandi. – Liberating. Yes! – I should choose happiness.

I can also extend myself to meditational quotes, for when I am manic.
‘Breathe’ is real punchy. Instagram proves pretty educational. I’ve certainly acquired the understanding that: breathing = good. Not smiling = bad.

From all the various, trendy things I have endeavoured to teach myself in order to control my illness - I have to say that talking is really important. Sometimes I see a quote that says ‘just talk about it’. I enjoy those quotes. Sometimes I message my friends asking if I can call them so I can talk about it and they respond: ‘can’t you just message instead?’ - which is perhaps a little fallacious. Should the inspirational quote be edited to: ‘Just DM me about it?’.
Now, how do I find the right emoji for - ‘I’m going to kill myself’?

These kinds of decisions in my digital life are more burdensome than the navigation with the illness itself; wearing a label is totally enervating. It’s testing enough trying to live with Bipolar Disorder; it’s a different breed of cat trying to learn how to best present myself as the show-stopping ‘Bipolar Mimi’. For example, in dating: do I mention my Bipolar Disorder on my tinder profile? Should I attempt a joke? Should I mention my Bipolar Disorder in a way that makes me more desirable?

I have Bipolar Disorder, when I am manic I am addicted to sex.
I have Bipolar Disorder, when I am depressed I am withdrawn and thus will not be needy.

Or should I go for something that everyone puts on his or her Tinder bio to be relatable but just drop it in like:

Here for a good time, not a long time. (I have Bipolar Disorder)

There are countless possibilities but I have certainly found that telling people I have Bipolar Disorder is vital. I had an ex-boyfriend whose family were ignorant and certainly weren’t pleased that out of all the women he could’ve brought home to mum, he brought back a Bipolar one. The stigma I faced and the fact that they were so appalled that they weren’t pre-warned about my illness, has changed the way I approach dating and I now feel it’s mature to mention my contagious disease illness. It’s like – if I have IBS, I would need to tell my boyfriend’s family about it as soon as I meet them just in case they aren’t okay with having someone like that in their house. So the next time I meet a boyfriend’s family, I’ll be upfront. Practicing what Instagram taught me: if I’m depressed, I smile. If I’m manic, I’ll breathe.
 ‘Hi, I’m Mimi and I have Bipolar’.
Except if I’m manic, and my cognitive isn’t too great, it’ll be:
 ‘Hi, I’m Bipolar and I have Mimi’.
 If I’m depressed I’ll probably not be there at all. But I guess both situations make a convincing case for calling the police: ‘My son’s dating a Bipolar!’, like calling a dog warden to collect a rabid, stray dog.

Living with stigma can be wounding sometimes, the notion that people have already made up their minds about you and your illness despite not genuinely knowing you – can make me feel kind of sad. (Or if I’m off my medication, kind-of seriously, impenetrably depressed). I’ve absorbed the ability to channel this upset into something more constructive: like resentment. I could always just spitefully give birth to their grandchildren. You know how people say that you shouldn’t use children as weapons, well… what if I do? I’m not venomous, I wouldn’t cut visitation rights or hinder relationships – I mean: I could just breed an army of bipolar children. Bipolar Disorder is indeed hereditary, so I could just have lots of them for extra special Bipolar power.

Seriously though, when I do feel sorry for myself – I think: what a shame that my partner would have to date a Bipolar. Imagine him telling his friends about me when we meet. See, I’m quite lucky that a few guys think I’m pretty so I sometimes get the ‘How is she still single?’ comment and that I ‘must be crazy!’. My unfortunate, future man would then have to ratify that: yes, she is indeed, actually crazy.

I am not exclusively crazy because of my Bipolar Disorder, it’s also exacerbated by the fact that I am just a sensitive girl. One of the common triggers for episodes, for example, is stress; but then my star sign’s Cancer – so everything in life is disquieting, emotional trauma. I am reasonably sure that even though I have been writing somewhat satirically, I’ve inadvertently hurt my own feelings 5 times and had to take breaks to again ‘breathe’. I know what you’re thinking: ah yes, certain psychosis symptoms – delusions… she believes in horoscopes. No, I just legitimately believe in horoscopes. I thought I was imprisoned in a grisly nightmare by being sensitive and Bipolar, but ultimately Gemini and Bipolar is the real hard work. I am permanently battling an identity crisis trying to deal with a mood disorder, I couldn’t imagine also having a star sign that is cosmically destined to make me split.

Despite my countless hindrances and difficult times, I’ve gotten to an amiable stage where I feel I’m in control. I don’t commonly experience episodes, partly because I’m dosed up on lithium where my happiness capacity is at an 8 and my sadness capacity is at a 3 (perhaps allowing a 2 when I watch a movie where a dog dies). Truthfully, the real quandary is maintaining a harmonious, stable life despite all that I have thrown at me as a millennial woman. My most valuable advice to others with the illness is to stay committed to treatments and self-management, and try to be watchful of your illness because awareness is imperative to recovery. I’ve gotten to a positive place where I – Mimi Black – have control of my vivacious life, but I will continue to peer over my shoulder to ensure manic Mimi Pink or low Mimi Blue doesn’t show up uninvited to my party.

London, UK

I'm Great! But I Want My Insurance To Cover Suicide


On a scale from one to ten, how uncomfortable does it make you feel when I tell you that I want my life insurance to include cover for suicide?
Insurance is all about risk assessment based on probabilities. They essentially assess their charges on: how probable is your death? How probable is your death certain means?

It’s like with car insurance, there is a no claims 'reward' because it’s essentially proving that a car accident with you is not so likely. On the flip side, someone who crashes their car recurrently will have more costly insurance, as it seems reasonably likely they could make another claim. It would be ludicrous for this driver not to have an insurance that would cover what is probable to happen.

I was looking at different life insurances, as I would like a fund for my family to help them pay for my funeral costs. I considered that my insurance could be more costly as I have a history of mental illness, and after all that Bipolar Disorder has already gifted me – it is indeed an incurable, life-long illness too. I discussed life insurances with suicide cover on social media and was met with a few challenging responses.

‘Why would you need this? Are you planning your suicide?’
No, I certainly do not have suicidal intentions and I would like to think that I am going to live a long, wonderful life. However, mental illness can be so complex and unpredictable, and with a personal history of mental illness, suicidal thoughts and tendencies – wouldn’t it be nonsensical if I found myself cover that did not assure a pay out for suicide?

‘If you prepare your life insurance to include suicide, aren’t you just preparing for suicide?’
I think what’s most problematic and would answer all of these questions is that so many of you still regard suicide very much as a choice. It’s difficult because in teaching those who are suffering from mental illness and who want to take their own lives, we tell them ‘there are other options, there is help available’. But only when you have been in your darkest mental moments will you realise how ‘option-less’ your mental health makes you personally feel. As healthy, rational individuals – we can make comments and put a lot of effort into trying to prevent deaths of this type with our logic, but the very nature of mental illness is that it’s hard to understand and empathise with because everyone’s fight is so personal.

I understand that in some ways many people will feel if I ensured my own life insurance has a cover for suicide that I am somewhat enabling myself if I end up seriously mentally unwell in the future and want to take my own life. Life Insurance policies, which cover suicide, have a waiting period to avoid those who are planning on immediately taking their own life but want the financial cushion so they do not burden their families. It is normally a year or more before the policy will cover suicide, which arguably could be a positive influence for those with suicidal intent. I recognize that you may view a policy, which covers suicide, as one less block to stop my suicide because my financial affairs would be in order. However, if I’m already in the negative mental space where I am making plans for my suicide – money is hardly going to be a key motivator for me to take my own life, as my mental illness has already consumed me and pushed me. The issue is not all the things that ready me for suicide or ‘enable’ my death like financial gain for my family or having my funeral arranged; the issue is that my mental illness has become deadly.

With anyone who suffers from an illness and pays for life cover, I’m sure you find it only sensible to have an insurance that covers that illness. Someone with a history of cancer would want a cancer death covered, someone with a heart disease would want all cardiac related deaths covered. The difference that so many of you see in these comparisons is that either consciously or subconsciously, you have viewed mental illness as imaginative, or viewed suicide from mental illness as a choice. The ignorance of this view is stigmatising, and whenever I see someone who has battled mental illness take their own life, I truly view that as a loss of life to mental illness – not a ‘selfish decision’.


We all need to consider how we think about suicide from mental illness, and especially how we discuss it. Eradicating the stigmatisation of the topic does not mean you are enabling or encouraging suicides, but rather you are helping make those people who are struggling feel more comfortable to discuss suicide and their relationships with their own mental illnesses.

As a currently healthy, sane individual who has previously been in dark, bottomless places before I think it’s reasonable to ensure that the insurance on my life is fully comprehensive and I can’t ignore the high probability that I may tragically lose my life to suicide. It’s not a pleasant thought, but it's time to accept that suicide as a result of a mental disorder, is less of an option and more of a tragic, untimely death by a mental illness.

With educating ourselves on mental illness and suicide, we are removing that stigma and allowing ourselves to better support those who are struggling - which is key to preventing mental illness related deaths.

Information and support on suicide can be found on these links:
Mind UK

If you need help in the UK you can call Samaritans for free on 116 123.
For other international help pages please see the 'Helpful Places' tab.

London, UK

'Busy Thoughts': You Need To Do Nothing


I’m a very driven individual, and when people ask: ‘do you work yourself to the bone?’ I respond boldly – ‘No, I work myself to my last nerve’. I take on too many projects, I say yes to virtually everything and even when I am unwell – I am a bed-bound bonfire. I work vigorously on my laptop with my fingers creating small fires from the friction on the keyboard. I am unquestionably… a liability.

I wasn’t always a self-proclaimed workaholic. In fact, quite contrary – I was often found lying in bed with a boyfriend eating ice cream and practicing my own niche of being a professional nap artist. Now, I can see the link. When I am very content, I can become quite complacent and I slow down to enjoy my life – which realistically, everyone should. Although, when I am lacking something, I work myself into a bottomless exhaustion.

I discovered that when you are busy, all you can think about is being busy; you never need to observe what’s really going on with yourself and your life. You know that feeling when you’re ready for bed at night, but having a bit of trouble getting to sleep, so you think about everything? I had become so scared of those moments of being alone with my thoughts that I drowned by brain out with a tidal wave of – not always meaningful - productivity. My logic was: if I have one thousand things on, I can avoid anything undesirable in my life because my brain will be saturated with ‘busy thoughts’.

'Busy thoughts', are both a dream and detrimental. Busy thoughts are great when you are perhaps having a bit of a rough patch, you have a bit of grief or you are just a bit bored; they keep you going and motivate you to channel your energy into something important. Busy thoughts, however, can also serve as a blinding distraction. Addressing how you are feeling and reflecting on what is going on in your life may sound like a simplistic and natural notion, but it doesn’t come easily to all of us. I know that I enjoy ignoring what’s going on in my mind and subdue myself with busy thoughts, until my unrealised issues manifest as a hideous, unavoidable monster. I habitually become so distracted that I forget to really take care of myself by just setting aside the time to do nothing.

I was horribly sick with the flu recently, and whilst I was bed ridden, bingeing episodes of Black Mirror like no tomorrow, I could not switch off my brain and rest. I was plagued with the thoughts of all the things I had to do, all the things I wanted to do and I thus - I kept subconsciously working. I was unwell for sixteen days, and I suppose the reason it took so long to feel better is because mentally, I was exhausted and it cried out from my body. I realised I had run myself into the ground, because my body was wishing for help and rest. I don’t always get that physical warning, which is scary as I am just poising myself for a breakdown.

Having bipolar disorder, I have experienced the red-bullish, sleepless nightmare that is mania and the ‘busy thoughts’ really do not compare. However, running yourself into exhaustion is always bad news – you create the perfect breeding ground for your unattended problems, and your once small issues will surface like vermin when you are drained. I know my illness well enough now to realise that if I take on too much and become stressed, I am tempting a bipolar episode, so realistically – with my recent bout of flu – I have to thank my body for reminding me of the importance of rest.

After taking some time off over Christmas, I feel energised and ready to conquer the world again. Nonetheless, this time – I’m going to reawaken my professional nap artist alter ego from time to time, because it really is exhausting work being exhausted.


Don’t be afraid to take a break to recharge your batteries, it doesn’t mean you’re lazy or wasting time – it honestly just shows that you’re mature enough to seek out balance in your life, giving both your mind and body a little TLC. Set aside a moment, even a day in your calendar, to have no plans and just rest. It’s small, but it’s life changing.

'The Cupboard': Opening Up About How You Feel



I always describe to my friends the terrifying notion of opening up to someone, like having a truly messy cupboard. As a child, I would tidy my room and I would secretly thrust all my clothes into my wardrobe. My mum would come in to inspect the job, she’d open the door and all my rubbish would spit out at her. I’d just be standing there, so ashamed at my own ineptitude. All those possessions I’d stuff away in the messy drawer, wardrobe or cupboard became the perfect metaphor for my bad memories and anxieties.

There is only so much you can fit in the cupboard. Everything you don’t want to remain in front of you and use, but what you still hold onto, gets chucked in. With every bad experience I had, I bagged it up and stuffed it into the cupboard and battered the door just enough to get it shut so that I could go on with life without ever thinking of it again. I tried my best to ignore the existence of the cupboard, and I would never dare to open it up again because I know as soon as I would – all of those things that I am secretly possessing would burst out in the most suffering and uncomfortable manner.

So many people will live their life never opening up that messy cupboard to another. It’s a very vulnerable feeling to tell someone all those inner insecurities and fears; all those bad experiences you can’t muster enough courage to discuss again through fear of reliving it, as you reticently walk someone else through those moments. People often persist that you should open up, but already you can see the humiliating visual of someone asking for something in your cupboard and the horrifying situation you’re faced with when you finally open it up to find it.

That’s the thing with the emotional cupboard too: not all the things in there are bad. Think back to when you were younger and you had that messy drawer or cupboard in your bedroom and unexpectedly, you realise you need something from it – that gift someone gave you at Christmas, or your favourite scarf you stored away because you didn’t need it through summer. You look at the cupboard and envision the impenetrable stress of it, and that perhaps it isn’t worth opening the door to hunt for it… you can always buy something else, you could always just go cold this winter. The fear of opening the cupboard always seems to outweigh the possible advantages. Anxiety is a black hole: it absorbs the good potential and emanates your fears.

My cupboard was a hoarder's mess. I flung my embarrassing memories there; I boxed up a string of my insecurities like tangled, hoary, ruined Christmas lights and chucked them in. You would even find a few ex-boyfriends in there. Sometimes I would lose things to the cupboard, like when I accidentally threw my faith in. I’d associate my faith with my hopelessness, and throw that in the cupboard too – never to be brought out again out of dread. My cheerful memories that were grouped with the bad, also live there. Yet even though I didn’t go near the cupboard, I always remembered it was there. Out of sight, is not always out of mind and the quiet insecurities grew loud and obnoxious until my cupboard was bursting off its hinge.

My anxieties manifested like painful cysts in my life, because I always remembered what I was illicitly harbouring. I struggled with relationships for a while because of fretfulness, so I just didn’t approach them. I never took anyone seriously because I hid from the hurt I had experienced before and rejected any position that brought me close to that. I never felt I could open up and see someone’s face as I stand above the damaged, messy contents that have burst out all over the floor. You know it is a burst too, when you finally release all your feelings. Your words just keep coming out and you’re crying hysterically, and all that you feel in that moment is vulnerability and damage. However, the lengthy panic and dread of not opening up gave me more pain than what any of the contents of the cupboard could ever give me.

Over time I built my relationships more with people, until finally it was time to just open that cupboard up. I felt so defenceless, but when I cracked it open I was shocked. I opened the door for nothing to fall out – but still fragile, like a tower of emotional Jenga. Cleaning out that cupboard was addressing my issues, and it took a lot of time. I’d spend hours with friends, relatives, anyone – just clearing out all that gave me a heavy mind. As I shifted out the bad things I found the good things too, the blissful memories I forgot about and the wonderful qualities about myself that I didn’t want to see before. After taking it all apart piece by piece, the cupboard was not a mess anymore. Everything in that cupboard had it’s own place. The cupboard isn’t empty now - there are still some things that get kept there, and still some things I need to take out – but it is manageable and I am not afraid to go into it. Every so often, it’s worth opening up that cupboard so it doesn’t build up again and when you realise that everything truly has it’s place. Like my mum always told me after she stood grinning at my tidy room: ‘Isn’t it so much easier and nicer like this?’.

It’s okay to have those fears and anxieties, but it’s about how you organise it in your life and deal with it. Some things, they belong in your cupboard – and only a few people will get to see them, but you should never be afraid to open up. If you spend so much of your time and effort avoiding that hurt by hiding it away, it will make you sick. It catches up to us all and you’ll realise that when you can no longer put things to the back of your mind, as you have so much built up inside your head already.

There is a lot of vulnerability involved in opening up, but it’s much more painful to be closed off than it is to be open. Being hurt and having negative times is part of the process of life. Each time someone or something disappoints you or hurts you, if there is a next time: it’ll be easier. You need to trust the process, and trust that the strength you will accumulate from facing your fears and opening up about the bad things will be a weight off your shoulders. Your mind is an elastic band, if you keep your mind healthy you can bounce back from things but if you build it up and put too much weight on it – it will snap.


Opening up feels impossible, please just try. I have had a tough time these past few months and when I spoke about it, that’s where things changed for the better for me. Speak to someone about it all: your partner, friends, family or doctor. Take care of yourself, we all have had that cupboard.

How Many More Days of Mimi?


So as it turns out, writing quietly and reservedly on a blog where I have marketed myself as honest about everything and able to discuss absolutely every aspect of my life - has proven problematic.
I felt like on '100 Days of Mimi' I reached a point where I felt like a living, breathing oxymoron. I was trying to write from a different place than before, and in the grand context of what I had been doing previously - it felt like it didn't have that seamless fit, and perhaps that the blog looked slightly confused.

I have spent a laborious number of weeks revisiting content, revising the site's design and doing the blog - what I would consider - justice. When you have so many people interacting with the content you put out there it feels like a lot of responsibility, as I want to ensure that what I have built is thriving, and the best that it can possibly be.

I realised over the course of months that the format of telling you all about my daily life, did not completely feel comfortable or right to me anymore. I had to put myself first and take time to reconsider my options in writing: if I would write again and if I did, how could I make the transition from 'mood diary' to general 'mental health' writing? I know writing a daily piece on my mental health in the context of my life was what brought a lot of you here and is what most of you want, but I am reserved about certain aspects of my life now and also, some days there really is not much to report on! That in itself is a positive: I've been doing well and living a balanced life.

Now, this isn't a goodbye to the 'Days of Mimi'. Infact, I hope to still be open with you all and discuss issues at large of experiences in my own life with my own mental health - and all that I will write, will be coming from my personal experiences and what I know. There will still be that 'diary allure' to this blog, but now the content will be much more diverse by taking away the general reporting on my daily life. The 'Secrets To My Favourite Life' series was well received by people, and I'm elated that I can transition this blog to cover a range of diverse topics and formats. I feel that as the blog is growing, it is now maturing - and I am very enthusiastic about it all. I hope you all enjoy the pieces I have worked hard on, and continue to engage with the content I write. I love reading your feedback and thoughts, as usual you can find me on Twitter - where I have always loved to communicate with you all.

Following Thursday 21st December 2017: There will be a new post at 8pm every Thursday.
Along with this weekly scheduled post, there will be many other spontaneous posts appearing without a set schedule - the best way to keep up with the 100 Days blog is subscribing by email, which you can find near the bottom of the new home page.