Feeling Inspired

I’ve been reading a fair few blog posts today, along with various other tasks that have kept me busy. I connected with some blogs I hadn’t read in a while and began to comment again and to engage with everything. As I was reading, I started to notice something that made me smile: these blog posts were making me want to write. They were filling me with an inspiration that I haven’t felt in ages.

The thing I love about the community – I mean, there are so many things which I love that I couldn’t just list one – is the creativity. Today, I read posts that ranged from book hauls to a letter about past friendship. As a blogger, you can choose to read what you like and though you can sometimes feel an obligation to read, I feel like there’s more of a relaxed atmosphere around what you read. As there are so many blogs out there, you could never be expected to read thousands of posts but being given a variety of inspiration from all around the blogosphere and the world is fantastic.

How I felt today, whilst sitting down and reading, was connected. Not in the manic, social-media-must-rule-my-life sense but rather, I felt connected to human emotion and experiences. I think that’s one of the reasons I started blogging – I wanted to be involved with the beautiful web of life and feelings; this was and is one of the best ways. I was stunned by some writing I read as well, the fact that someone could create such beautiful imagery from verse and their own heart.

Ideas started running around my head. I took little things from each post – a section of recollection, the euphoria of friendship, the invincibility of having your words read and understood. Seeing collaborations like The Artistics and blogger interviews made me feel like the community was interconnected and respectful of each other. That made me want to pick up my keyboard (well, just tap out some things on it) and finish posts I hadn’t touched in weeks, start on new ones and let the thoughts run free in my head.

People have such amazing stories in their heads and I often forget that I can be one of those people. In the mayhem of social media, stress and my own brain shouting at me, I forget that I’m a person and a blogger too. Engaging with people reminded me that I have my own independent thoughts and that they shouldn’t be blanked out for the sake of fear about how people will respond to them.

Of course, I try not to read posts when I feel too drained. It’d only make me feel worse but there are plenty of occasions where reading someone’s writing, that they’ve spent their time creating, can create a wish to share my own writing with you. Isn’t that the best feeling? It really reminds me why I love blogging so much.

I want to say thank you to anyone who writes. You might not know it but every word I read and every emotion captured in a sentence inspires me to keep going. I don’t know what I’d do without the community to lift me up and most times, they don’t even know they’re doing it!

Have you read any good blog posts recently that have inspired you? Have you written any that you think I should read?

Love from Elm 🙂

The Thing About my Identity

In September, I’ll be attending a college for the visually impaired. I’ve made no secret of that on my blog but to be honest, there are very few in this country and just under 150 people attend each at any given time. That means everyone will know each other but also that it possibly wouldn’t be difficult to figure out my ‘real’ identity.

Before, when the question of my identity came up, I reacted a little differently. I was much more defensive and worried about people finding it because I went to a school where, I felt, people would judge you or just didn’t care. Now I’m out – and even as I drew to the end of my secondary school years – I started to relax a bit more. Saying that, now, I’m starting to become quite paranoid about things. It seems silly but I’m eternally afraid that people are going to have this preconception of me that they transfer from blogging to ‘real life’, or vice versa. Does that make any sense?

I’m not so worried about blogging people finding out my real identity. It fills me with fear, of course, but there’s less chance of damaging consequences happening. Unless someone decides to unearth things about me from years ago that exist on the Internet, the blogging world won’t be my problem. I doubt I’ll reveal my identity soon but if it happens, that wouldn’t be as bad.

It’s the other way around that could be a problem. People at the college could, and probably will, find my blog. I don’t exactly do the best job at hiding it and trying to now would take far too long and would go against the openness and honesty that I want on my blog. However, the thought of people potentially discovering it and taking the piss out of me for it really worries me. It’s unlikely that they’d be so cruel but you never know: some people can be immature and laugh first before understanding.

If they do find me and only read a small amount of my posts, they could get varying opinions of me. They could look at my emotional posts and jump to conclusions about my personal life, seeming as some of the people I mention on this blog are VI (visually impaired) and might be known by them. They could find my old posts and think that’s still a representation of me. In short, they could do all sorts of things and sometimes, I’m scared about how I could react. People could really hurt me by using this blog against me and they wouldn’t even know it.

The truth is that I could react very badly. If I’m confronted with people knowing who Elm is, offline, I’d most likely freak out and if someone didn’t understand how important this blog is to me, they could trivialise it. Would that cause me to shut down? Would I then stop posting? I don’t know: I’d hope that I was mature enough to react as calmly as possible but who knows? I’m scared that if someone really drags up old memories, I won’t be able to handle trying to defend myself.

I’m afraid of becoming someone else that I don’t recognise. I’m scared that I’ll be leaving myself behind, almost, and that all my identities will be taken from me by people discovering previously unseen parts of myself. Isn’t this just life, though? I suppose it happens all the time; this is just a big change and I don’t know how to feel about it.

Don’t lose yourself in the mayhem of new beginnings but at the same time, don’t be afraid to change what you define as ‘yourself’. Your identity is fluid and doesn’t always have to be tied down by people and experiences. It’s okay if it changes.

From Elm 🙂

This Feels like Freedom

Today was my last A-Level exam.

Ever.

What the fuck???

After 7 exams and the most exhausting and draining two weeks of my life, I’m done. Should I say two years? 7 years? My time in “traditional” secondary education is over. 7 exams, 3 subjects, and it’s over. I don’t know how to process that.

Looking back on it, I worked myself to the ground and I only hope that it was worth it. The exams themselves ranged from reasonably alright to soul crushingly terrible in a pit of fire. I revised constantly – though I must say, it took me a while – and the only thing that existed for the last month, for me, was work and exams and not letting the crying that wanted to get out escape. It all feels strange now – so much of what I did was orientated around trying to keep afloat through it all. Until it was over. Now, it is.

I’m going to write an exam recap – in my typical, “WHAT WAS THIS HELP NO” fashion – and post it tomorrow. Until then, I don’t know what I’ll do. I feel cut loose, with strings of unfinished thoughts trailing behind me. I’m exhausted from a breakdown I had yesterday; I’m just tired in general. I’ve barely been getting sufficient sleep and at the worst points, I felt like I was going to scream unstoppably.

When my last exam ended – Psychology – I cried. I cried when I left the VI unit (place where I do my exams) and I cried whilst I waited to go home, when I was saying goodbye to the teachers who’d adapted my work for 7 years. I cried when I said goodbye to the taxi driver who’d driven me to school, every day, for the last 6 years, when he said I was like a second daughter to him. It was a day of tears that stung my eyes and near-tears that shimmered just behind them. All of this seems bland and blank: I want to have the presence of mind to describe my emotions but that’ll come with time.

Now, I feel listless. The purposeful drive will come tomorrow, when I decide I need to write and read, to sing and to reconcile with people who I’ve needed to gain closure from for years. I’ll get sudden bursts of inspiration; I’ll have a myriad of blogging ideas that clammer to be written. I’ll want to piece together my identity piece by piece. But for now? I don’t want to do any of that. I want to sleep, or feel these overwhelming feelings of complete sadness that have been overdue. Suppressing your mental health through exams is genuinely painful and I don’t know why I did it to such a horrible extent but it’s done now. All I can do is pick myself up after and not lose contact with the world around me whilst I’m doing that.

I’m so tired. I’ve said that already but it bears repeating. Who am I now that I’m not just trying to survive until the end of exams? Who am I now that I have feelings and confusion I can’t understand?

The only thing I regret right now is only being a shadow of myself when I spoke to, and met, some of the important people in my life. I’m afraid that they won’t recognise me now. Saying that, it’s not like I’ll have a personality turn-around, or that ending A-Levels suddenly makes me change. It’s just that I’ve repressed so much of myself to be able to cope that I don’t really know what to expect now. Does that make any sense?

A-Levels were awful; I can’t deny that. However, they did teach me things. I can work if I try and I can get through things, when at times I genuinely didn’t think I would. My mental health gets so bad at times that I feel as if everything’s hopeless and terrible; it only got worse with A-Levels. But I did it. I’m alive. I’m here. Is that enough to be proud of myself?

I’ve missed this blog, writing and feeling like I can truly call my work my own. Primarily, I want to get that back in the next few months. I’m out of the worst now, right?

This doesn’t feel quite like a victory. It feels more bittersweet but I’m celebrating, in my own way. An era of my life is over and I don’t know who I’ll become in the next one. Perhaps I’ll have a major crisis in my mind this summer; perhaps I won’t. I think that now everything is done, I need to start processing.

Maybe I’m on my way to okay, and then on the way to happy. I’ve got the entire summer to figure that out.

Have you had exams? If so, how have they gone?

Love from Elm 🙂

Everything’s a Bit Strange

It strikes me as weird how there are 20 days of proper school left. Instead of making the most of them, I’m sitting here writing a blog post for the first time in two weeks and it feels… Disorientating.

I’m not sure how I feel about leaving my writing for so long. It’s a mix of guilt and just a bit of confusion. In fact, those “bits of confusion” are dominating my life at the minute. From slightly horrifying conversations with people to freaking out about dresses, to violent stabs of guilt, to fucking up friendships, to then freaking out about the potential “date” I’m going on on Sunday? There are too many emotions which contrast with one another. I don’t know.

I’ve realised something. When I don’t write, my life invariably gets way too overwhelming. I don’t know if not writing means I can’t cope and so the shitshow starts, or if the shitshow starts which stops me from writing. Thinking about that makes me panic and I leave it even longer, so that I don’t know what to say when I come back. Really, I don’t know if I can say anything worthwhile.

Last week, I didn’t leave the house in three days because I was ill and could barely move. I went to the GP last Tuesday, absolutely terrified, and got a referral to the mental health service in my area. Again. Hopefully, this time, I can get my shit together enough to be able to get somewhere. Before I went back to school, the last person I’d “socialised” with was Pearl (a girl I’ve been talking to for just over a month) which is a whole other bunch of WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING? that I’ll get into, once I’ve seen her again on Sunday. Suffice it to say that I don’t know what’s happening but I’m not complaining about that lack of knowledge, at least when it comes to her.

Somehow, I submitted something for my history coursework. I cried at the weekend because I was so stressed about the entire thing; I experienced what I can only term as being so scared that I lost complete control over my thoughts. My dad was there to see it and just spoke to me; my mum has also been great for the past two weeks. So then why do I feel worse than ever? It must be because I feel guilty for wasting their time and I feel guilty for talking to nobody for ages.

I would love to be able to speak to people, to carry on conversations, but I struggle with doing so many things and even with just moving sometimes. It makes me so exhausted to talk about it that I inevitably don’t. For instance, I’m going to a party today – my friend Willow had her birthday recently – and I’m really looking forward to it but at the same time, I’m paranoid about getting there for no reason. I don’t speak about it because I’m worried people will ridicule me, or tell me I’m being too irrational for them. That’s what it’s been like: I know people wouldn’t tell me I was being ridiculous but something in me convinces itself and I can’t let go of it.

Yesterday, I tried on a dress for this party and didn’t feel awful. I felt blank, sure, but not disgusting. When I go prom dress shopping tomorrow, I hope that feeling will carry through. Today, I’m just trying to stay calm and to not have a constant mantra of “stop everything stop stop stop”.

I have to break my flow of whatever I’m saying to write that I’m frustrated. This is too disjointed and too confusing; I wish my words flowed better. I need to go back to a time where I felt fully with my words, where I could write them down as easily as speaking about something I love. It’s upsetting me and I wish it wasn’t.

Short of distracting myself with work – which I’ve done – I didn’t know what else to do. The fact that I didn’t go on social media for a long time probably didn’t help with that but I couldn’t cope with the stress of talking to people when I couldn’t talk to myself easily. All of it built into a sort of internal scream and I didn’t speak to my family for a bit, although I did spend time with them.

There are 20 days of proper school left and I just hope I can make the most of them, rather than wasting that time. There’s so much pressure that I don’t know how to hold. At some point, I’ll release that pressure in a more measured way. Just not now.

This was simply yelling onto a screen, which is the best kind of yelling. I didn’t plan this; I wrote with no coherency; I think I vaguely ranted. When I read back over this, I’ll cringe. However, writing it has exhausted me and if I’m being honest, the fear that people will think I’m blowing this out of proportion, or they’ll sigh out of irritation and think I’m bullshitting, is creeping up on me.

But at least I’m writing. At least I’m saying something, rather than shutting myself away. It feels too overwhelming now but soon, I’ll get re-used to being able to do things. Maybe it might make me want to cry at the moment but in the future, I’ll be able to write out how I feel again and to be able to savour the feeling of feeling more free. This is me at my worst, writing-wise, so surely it can only go up from here?

I’ve missed blogging. I’ve missed talking to people, even when I just felt like I couldn’t. I’ve missed interacting with the world and feeling like it’s interacting back, the support, the way it felt to unleash my thoughts in something more together than a jumble. To that end, I want to talk more. I might need time, but I still want to have that time and then invest it into reconnecting with something I love.

How are you all doing?

From Elm 🙂

Spoken Word and Smiles | My Amazing Day with GracieChick!

On the last day of term, which so happened to be my blogging anniversary I went into London with my friend Swan to meet the amazing Gracie. It was a trip we’d been planning for weeks, spawned from a comment I’d left on a post she wrote asking if I could come and watch her in her Spoken Word performance. It started as a little idea and then flourished into one of the best days of my life.

After school, Swan and I went back to my house and after eating a little, prepared to go out. We were travelling to South London, not entirely sure of the route we were taking but the laughter that ensued from that was some of the most full laughter I’ve had in a while. It was raining but the journey in wasn’t bad: I was internally screeching with excitement, texting Gracie with far too many exclamation marks (as I always do).

We met outside the station, me accidentally waving in the wrong direction and then making some comment about how much of a mess I was. It took a while to sink in that I was actually there and on the short walk to the theatre, I couldn’t stop smiling, although I had my hood up from the rain so that I didn’t look odd with a massive grin on my face. It had taken some organisation to do this and now that I was finally there, it felt surreal.

Over hot chocolate, Swan, Gracie and I talked about everything. Conversations ranged from what our lives were like to me endlessly fangirling over bloggers – I spent a while exclaiming over how lovely and supportive Bri is. A big subject was identity and how interesting it can be to how a blogging name vs. your actual name. We talked for an hour and a half before Gracie had to go for rehearsal, by which time the café we were in had nearly emptied.

After Gracie went to practice, her family offered to take Swan and I out for dinner which was so thoughtful of them. We went to a Vegetarian and Vegan Indian restaurant, perfect for Swan (as she’s Vegetarian with plans to go Vegan in the summer). Gracie’s mum, dad, younger brother and sister are some of the nicest people I’ve met – conversations were easy, friendly and made me feel so included. They’re so supportive of Gracie’s blog which I thought was amazing, as it took a long time before I even told my mum about this blog. As became even more pronounced later, I neither felt especially Elm-like or my real name-like (which I nearly just wrote THAT WAS TERRIFYING): I didn’t feel like I needed an identity just then because I was just present there; it didn’t matter what name I went by.

When we’d finished eating, we walked back to the theatre to collect our tickets. We went into the room where the performances were held after meeting Gracie’s aunt and uncle; there were so many other people there despite it being a relatively small room. By that point, I couldn’t wait to hear Gracie: I love her poetry and so hearing it being performed was going to be a real honour. As I’d also not heard much urban music before, I was seriously looking forward to the other performances too.

The atmosphere was electric, made more so by the enclosed and familiar space. With the lights dimmed and us sitting right at the front, I felt anticipation building up inside me. This was all totally knew: the setting, the people there, the feeling of utter freedom. I had my fingertips on the table in front of me, which was what grounded me.

I love new experiences. That was why the music, a mixture of rap, reggae and acapella, affected me so much. I have a weirdly strong reaction to lyrics or particularly powerful beats and when I was surrounded by it, I could feel my breath in my lungs and my heart beating. Perhaps it’s because I’m a dreamer at heart but I felt like I was floating, then suddenly getting jolted back to earth. Gracie was the second performer and so I’d already had this reaction and, as I started to feel more and more happy and comfortable, the emotions of the whole thing were on a constant loop inside my head.

Gracie’s performance was, in a word, magical. Of the two poems she performed, “Beauty” spoke to me most: her voice rose and fell like she breathed and owned the words, coming forth straight from her heart. I absorbed those words, feeling hit with some kind of overwhelming emotion. The swell of pride I felt in the breaks between lines and in the thundering applause I gave after was immense. It felt amazing to be sitting there, witnessing the passion she has for words in real life, and being able to talk about it.

Leaving was the hardest part. I gave Gracie and her mum a massive hug and as Swan and I walked out of the theatre, I felt like I was about to cry. On the way home, when we ran for the train, I couldn’t stop a pervading sense of euphoria from making its way to my brain. It felt carefree, like I’d done something for myself which I truly, purely enjoyed.

This was the perfect end to my term, the perfect celebration of friendship and the best way to step out of my comfort zone whilst feeling the most myself I’ve felt in months. Having Swan beside me made it even better because I couldn’t think of a better person to go on this little adventure with. I’m so thankful that it all turned out so well in the end – from the minute the little flower of thought blossomed in my mind to it becoming a reality, I knew that this was something I wanted to do. For Gracie, for me but most of all, to have all the parts of my life that I love the most collide. It was fantastic and I can’t wait to meet up with Gracie and her lovely family again.

Thank you for such an amazing evening and for letting me smile so much. I miss you loads, you are awesome and I’m still buzzing!

Love from Elm 🙂

Happy 3 Years to Me!

Three years ago, the day after I’d attempted to make an about page that has changed over the years, I sat down to write the first post of a blog that would – at times – be the only thing holding me together. I didn’t know where it’d go, coming straight from the ashes of a failed blog, but it’s brought me further than I could have imagined. With some hitches along the way and some breakdowns, three years later, I’m still here and still very much Elm.

I didn’t know what to do for this year’s celebration post. I couldn’t have done a giveaway because I had nothing to give away and it didn’t feel like something I was comfortable with; I’ve already done a Q&A somewhere down the line; I was struggling to think of anything that would be suitably “Elm”. Then I realised: that’s the problem. I was too busy thinking about what might be received well, rather than thinking, “What do I want to write and how do I want to thank my readers?”

The idea popped into my head a few minutes ago, actually. What if I talked about what makes me Elm? I’ve gone through many identities throughout my life but there’s not one that’s as unique as “Elm” because Elm is me, yet Elm also represents something that’s more important to me than anything else. It’s a person without barriers, where it doesn’t matter that I’m blind or that I don’t understand references sometimes. It’s my store of confidence alongside my expression of insecurity and I have to remember that. Instead of just listing them, I’m going to involve you. Without my readers, without any of you, this “Elm” would not have grown into being.

It’s not like “Elm” was suddenly worn as an identity by me, that it was a layer of person put on all at once. It came about from who I was before, building up in little sections, getting progressively more defined as I made mistakes. I can trace those formations of sections, when I really started to feel like I belonged here, from the start of Three Time’s the Charm and from then on, through the journey of my posts. A thread to go alongside is that of my readers.

The first thing I started to be was supportive. I’d never really had a drive to be like that before: of course I wanted to but it was in starting a blog that I could start to express that wish. I helped people, whether through my words in my posts or through talking to them. I wasn’t powerless: I had a voice that I could use for good and I remember, one day, crying over how much that support network meant to me. I allowed myself to be supported in return and I’ve built up a close friendship with so many people here that I don’t know what I’d do without them. This blog has caused me to become more attentive to people, able to understand what they’re going through and to be empathetic. I might have learned this somewhere else but being Elm connected me to people I wouldn’t have been connected with otherwise and that made the world very real.

Right from the start, I was open simply because people who read my blog wanted to hear it. This links with being supported but it’s a whole new category; I relied (and rely) on expressing my emotions to an audience that will listen. It’s been so comforting to me to be able to vent. Although my posts aren’t as personal any more in terms of real life situations (I hope to change that), I still have this open mindset whenever I post. It’s been rare that I’ve been truly scared to write anything down because people are so welcome here. It doesn’t feel like I’ll be judged for swearing, for shrieking with terror and fuck, I’m thankful for that.

There’s a certain creativity that I’ve developed and I think it’s from meeting so many other creative people. I’ve seen people who write in so many different ways, from poetry to diaries to posts about beauty and fashion. It’s expanded my blogging horizons, to use a painfully cliche phrase. Sometimes, it can feel overwhelming and panic-inducing to try and be creative all the time but it’s made me remember that my personality as a whole is imaginative. I’ve learned to appreciate the little signs of a creative mind because you don’t have to have photos or intricate designs on your blog to be considered creative. Acceptance from people all around the world has made me accept my own personality traits.

My introduction to Twitter as well as continuous emailing throughout my time here, has let me talk to people that have become some of my best friends. Kel was and is an instrumental part of that because he’s been here for such a long time and has always stuck by me. People who have known me for 2 years or two months never fail to help me when I need it and to make me laugh until I sob; people from every conceivable place have been so supportive to everyone and are always there when I need to talk. The community is what gives me faith in humanity and they let me remember that I have qualities that are good and when I’m having one of my infamous crises, I don’t feel disgusting or hopelessly needy when talking to them.

I’ve not been here for that long, if you think about how long some people have been here, but I love blogging so much. It held me up when everything was so shit, last October and the October before that and for all those times when I hate myself and can’t think without becoming hysterical. It’s let me become more honest when I’ve lied and that’s carried over into ‘real life’. To me, it’s not just a casual hobby and I could never just throw it away. It means too much to me.

On my blogging anniversary today, I went to meet the amazing Gracie and I couldn’t have been more excited! I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks, ever since the possibility of it went from a rosebud into a fully-fledged flower. I’ll let you know how it all went tomorrow because I can’t wait to tell you about it!!

This might seem sentimental, overly emotional or with too much of “OMG I LOVE YOU GUUUYYSS!” but it’s true. I can’t understate how much people have been here for me and how much my blog has impacted my life. It still confuses me how I’ve managed to amass over 3500 followers through my messy wailing posts and frequent breakdowns. Thank you, so much, for not giving up on me.

It’s been an amazing three years and I hope there will be far more posts like this, for many more years. I don’t plan to leave a part of myself behind anytime soon.

You are all wonderful and I kind of want to cry because it hits me occasionally, just how supportive some people can be. I’ll stop screaming now but honestly, I could go on and on about how much I love the people that read this pile of crap I call a blog.

Looks like I’m still Elm and I couldn’t be more glad of that.

From Elm 🙂

The Strength Of Childhood – Collab with HonestlyLau!

Dear Elm,

I wouldn’t change my childhood if I could, it was full of opportunities and memories. I learned so much from my mum and dad, they gave me the best childhood.

I’d always just have fun, and that’s what a childhood should be about. At a young age, I grew a passion for drawing til this day, I still love it.

Before I was born, there was my brother. We were really close when we were younger, I have memories of playing in our plastic cars, the ones where you had to move it with your feet. As the years went by, we would argue constantly but that’s what brothers and sisters do.

In school, I was shy. I never really knew how to make friends but thankfully in Year 1 and 2, I made some friends that lasted until the end of Secondary school. As mostly everyone experiences, I was bullied but I liked to think that it didn’t need to bother me.

In primary school, I loved it. I grew a passion for reading, my friends from Year 1 and 2 went to the same school, so I didn’t have a difficult time making friends.

In Year 4, I made friends with a new girl who only stayed around a year. We were best friends, I’d go around her house and just play. I still remember some amazing memories, it was a good time in my life. After she left, I was pretty heartbroken. It didn’t take long when I started to become to a whole group of people. They were all so loud and confident, which I was shy so I didn’t blend in too well. Nevertheless, they made me feel welcome and joined me in, in all the games.

At this time, I wasn’t really a girly girl, I liked makeup but other then that, I was pretty much a tomboy. I remember collecting Match Attack cards, and I would watch Pokèmon.

I then transitioned into Secondary school, which was where I adventured into makeup and made even more friends. Of course, there were ups and downs but I made it out alive..well barely.

That pretty much brings me to now, I went into a course..passed and I’m now on the course I wanted for years.

Thank you so much to Elm, for allowing me to do this collaboration with her. I really enjoyed writing this. Elm wrote a post over on my blog which I definitely recommend checking out.

Thank you for reading!

Lau x

Two Years of Being Elm

If you’d have told me two years ago, after I wrote potentially the worst first post ever (did I think I was being cool or something?) that I’d still be sticking with blogging two years later, I would have blinked in confusion and burst out laughing. Really, it astounds me how I’ve kept up with this whole thing: maybe some (failed) breaks and breakdowns but I’m still here.

So many things about my life have changed: I’ve come to conclusions about my personality that I don’t like; I’ve gone through four relationship-type things (bloody hell); I’ve cried more times than I can count; I’ve screwed up majorly but also been the happiest I’ve ever been. Through all this, I’ve had this blog: maybe I couldn’t talk about a few things but my blog’s been a stable thing in my life when everything was spinning around me. Constantly there, it and the people I’ve met have been the things that have kept me going.

To me, my blog’s a way to be myself. It’s not just a bunch of posts, comments or pages; it’s a way to hold myself together. When I think about it, it’s one of the only things that I’ve properly kept to: it symbolises my dedication or the threads of it. I can’t bloody believe that I’m still here after so many have left, that my blog hasn’t decreased in meaning for me (quite the opposite).

I know I say this a lot but I can’t thank you enough. Thanks for sticking it out through my posts: I know there are certain types of posts, like positive ones or situations that have happened to me that you guys like more, but I’ll still be posting how I usually do. The reason I love this place so much is because I don’t restrict myself or hide behind another thing’s shadow; I’m as genuine as I can be and I take pride in that.

I didn’t want to just be like “Sup bitches, been around for two years and LOOK AT ME NOW!” because honestly, this is nothing special. It’s just me, sentimenal as ever, marking the anniversary of something that pretty much means the world to me. Maybe it won’t to other people but I’ve remained true to my blog, to myself on here and even when I couldn’t say the full story, I could get my emotions out.

I’ve got this far. I’ve met so many amazing people, met bloggers, fallen in and out of love and held the hands of people that have hurt me. If I’ve already done so much, who’s to say I can’t keep going? Who’s to say that in a year I won’t have met more bloggers, gained feelings for someone which ′I truly want – how do I know what’s going to happen?

I’m going to carry on because blogging’s now more important to me than anything I’ve ever done. Not much could get me to suddenly leave or say, “This was nice but bye!”

Thanks for 2 years; your support has shown me that people do care and that I’m not going to be dropped in the middle of an ocean on my own. Through my bad mental health and awful feelings, various people have been there that I needed; how the hell could I have got through everything without you?

I doo’t understand, still, why people follow me – I’ve almost got 2500 of them. How did that happen? I genuinely never set out to be some kind of ‘known’ person but for some reason, people know my name and people respect my words. Why? What is it about me that lets people read my stuff – in whatever capacity? I hope you know how much that means to me because it makes me feel so appreciated. Ugh, I sound so arrogant; I’m just surprised I guess.

I love you all. Here’s to more years to come of laughter, tears and too many strange situations to think about. Honestly, I can’t wait.

I’ve been Elm for 2 years but I sulpose the “Elm” part of my identity was always there. It just took this blog for it to surface, after the two other “blogs” I had. I grew into the Elm you have now because of this. I’d safely say: being Elm makes me so, so happy.

Love from Elm 🙂

Some Friends Don’t Fade

One thing that you learn about me, quickly, is that I get scared of change. For example, if I realise I’m not as close to a friend as I once was, I get incredibly upset and overthink, wondering what I did wrong and how I can fix it. Realising that it just happens and that it’s okay is a whole other story, one I’m sure I could talk about for years.

Today, I had an experience that made me remember what friends I had – and not just that, but I remembered the friends that have stayed with me. The friends who, no matter how much time you spend apart, will always come back and will always make you feel valued.

I’ve known this girl – I won’t give her a name yet – for 6 years. Like with many of my friendships with blind people, I met her at “blind camp”. A year later, we were in Portugal together to do something which I can’t explain because anonymity. Ever since then, we’ve seen each other at some summer camps, and our parents are friends. The last time we saw each other, and spoke in-depth about anything, was last summer at ANOTHER blind camp. She’s lovely and hilarious.

A bit of background information: my friend S (I would come up with another name for him, but I used this one at the beginning and it stuck) goes to a school. I won’t say which one, but it’s far away from where he lives. My other friend also goes to this school (S has been going there since a week ago) and today, she took his phone and he then rang me.

There ensued a really long conversation, which involved her hiding in the bathroom from S, freaking out about not being able to get ready because they were going out with some friends, and so much laughter from me and her that I eventually felt sick. Talking to her was easy, and made my entire day. We promised to talk again, us saying that we hadn’t spoken in ages and that that NEEDED to change.

That conversation showed me that she’s a good friend. Despite the fact that we don’t talk much, in our chat we STILL spoke about deep things on occasion between the laughter. She and I have trusted each other with a lot of things. I admit, I’ve got jealous of her a couple of times because she sings seriously amazingly, but at the end of the day we’ve known each other for so long and I have a lot of memories with her.

It astounds me that I haven’t caught up with her sooner. Friends like that can’t be neglected, but occasionally I forget? That sounds awful, but I often get swept up in life and don’t remember to catch up with the people who have always been there. Even so, for all of that, they still don’t leave. They’re still there when I want to talk, and it’s with the same ease as before.

Knowing that there will be people that have my back is comforting. I’m not just talking about the people who have known me for a long time in school: they mean just as much of course, but it’s refreshing to take stock of the friends like her, like Robin and Poppy and Rose, that have stuck by me for such a long time.

I know that if she read this, or if any of the people I mentioned in the above paragraph did, they’d laugh until they sobbed or not understand that when I feel grateful for my friends, I mean it. I don’t thank people enough, and I won’t start going “THANK YOU!” to all of my close friends, but I think they know that I would say it.

Sometimes, I feel lonely, even when I’m surrounded by people. That choking feeling, when you ask yourself who would really give a shit if you just faded into. the background. However, now, I know that some people do care.

Some people won’t LET you fade away, because they’re always there. They may not call you daily, even text you for months, but that’s okay: when you need them, they’re there to make you laugh or to just catch up on life.

Friendships are a funny thing for me at the moment; I’m not as secure in how I feel about everyone as people might think. I will always respect my friends, but who I want to hang out with is changing, and who I AM is changing. Who I want to be, who people see me as and how I want to interact with people are also changing.

Through those changes, at least I have those constant friends.

From Elm 🙂

1500 Has the Same Effect as 15

OH MY GOD!

I came home from a pretty horrendous shopping trip (mainly because it was boring, but my mum and I had dinner afterwards so that was great) to discover that for some unknown reason, my little train wreck of a blog has hit 1500 followers.

Like what?? Can I first of all just say, thank you SO MUCH, I can’t even eloquence today so I’m a little speechless.

I know I’ve said this in every single follower milestone I’ve reached – 50, 200, 500 and 1000 – that I love you so much, but the same still applies here. That hasn’t, and WON’T, change because you make my day all the time. Throughout my blog, you’ve supported me, read my terrible posts where I’ve been in tears, insanely happy (or both) and where I’ve spilled my life onto a screen. Do you have any idea how happy I am, how grateful I am that you’ve stuck by me? Whether you’ve been here a day or since the start, you’ve taken in my words in some form.

Whenever I want to feel like I’m not alone, I come here. I read your blogs, your comments; I write to get things out when there’s nothing else I can do. Perhaps it seems strange to be writing this all at 1500, but why not say it now? It honestly astounds me that 1500 people clicked the follow button; yes, most aren’t active followers, but the ones that are count so much. Every single one of you counts, no matter your background, history, hopes or dreams. The blogosphere isn’t a place where people say, “You’re not allowed.”

What I mostly want to say is that when I got 50 followers, I was just as ecstatic. To me, it doesn’t matter the follower count – whenever I reach a milestone, I feel just as happy. It shows me that I’ve got somewhere. The only time it’s ever had more of an impact was when I reached 1000, because something about that number held more significance. Why? I don’t know; I think it was because I reached 4 figures.

My blog’s not the biggest out there at ALL, but it’s my home. If I can inspire, or more importantly HELP, someone in the course of my writing, then it’s worth it to me. I blog because I want to, but mainly because of the community – AKA you guys.

If there’s anything I can do to improve, please tell me. Though I’m a total rebel and don’t conform to any stereotypes HAHAHA no, if there’s a particular post you like to read, just let me know. Your voices matter, and my blog’s not just for me in my eyes. It’s for everyone that stumbles across it.

Thanks for being so positive all of the time. Thanks for coming to me for advice, to ask questions and to just generally express your opinion. Through this blog, I’ve grown as a person. Before I started, I had no set objective or theme because I didn’t want to disappoint or pressure myself, but now I know what I want to do. I want to be confident, happy, and continue this blog.

For fear of boring you, I’m going to stop writing now. Again, tell me any improvements I want to make; I genuinely want to know. Over the next few months, there might be a lot of changes to this, depending on what people say and how I feel.

Sorry; it just hit me that I’ve reached 1500. ME. ELM. The strange nobody who’s prone to randomly calling people amazing and writing embarrassing stories, or supposedly “inspirational” shit.

Thanks again. I won’t say that I hope I’ll reach a certain number of followers in a certain amount of time. All I’m happy with is now, and all of you being here, and the chaotic place I’ve somehow created.

You’re brilliant. Don’t forget it, and I’m always here. I say that from the bottom of my heart (I mean the heart DOES have a bottom, but it’s pretty much the same as the rest of it, filled with blood and valves and tissues ew that’s disgusting I’m just going to forget I said that).

From Elm 🙂