One little spark of madness.


I started my blog not more than two weeks ago. The response to my first post was overwhelming, and I enjoyed that people laughed about a somewhat “tragic” date. I like to laugh; I think it’s the best way to get through life. That’s an opinion I’ve always shared, despite my own circumstances. (We’ll get to that later)

Today, a man who brought a lot of laughter decided to take his own life. He battled with addiction and depression.

Robin Williams had a loving family, a successful career in entertainment, a vast fortune and an overflowing talent. But that’s the thing about depression, it doesn’t care.

The news has affected people the world over. They grew up with him, they have laughed with him and they have loved him. This is, of course, a tragedy. However, I believe that some tragedies, and unthinkable hurt, have a reason to exist. Robin may not know this, but even after his passing, he will still be able to create happiness in the coldest of minds, and the warmest of hearts – or at least I hope.

This isn’t just because of his catalogue of classic movies that we can sit around and laugh to, this is because his ‘celebrity’ has and will shed light on to people who are dealing with mental illness and hopefully give them the push they need to reach out to many organisations that are there to help us.

We live in a world where every thought we think, and every move we make, is captured and sent out to the world with a click of a button. Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. We are the Generation Y. Self-entitled narcissists with heavy opinions. Some of these opinions are useful, while others are downright ignorant.

When a famous person dies, the scrutiny starts. I think people are easily angered by the overflowing status updates reading #RIP about people they didn’t know personally. I admit, it can be annoying, but we all believe our voice should be heard. I remember this agression with Winehouse and I’m seeing it now with Williams. 

When entertainers pass, you have to realise that this person has touched their lives in some way – through music or artistic expression – they are making you feel something. So there is a connection there, regardless of blood ties. Another opinion is that these artists/people are selfish. They’ve taken their own lives, and we shouldn’t have an ounce of sympathy for them. I recognise that opinion and I can understand it fully, but it doesn’t stop the event being sad. There are families they’ve left behind – but the sufferer has also lived with complete pain and anguish, one that you do not understand, for a very long time.

I have personally said some things I regret on social media and I’ve argued tooth and nail to protect my opinion, but it isn’t until you reflect later on in life and after certain circumstances that happen to you, do you begin to regret them – and I hope for the sake of the smaller-minded people, that they will come to regret them too.

For those that haven’t gone through depression, it isn’t just a mood swing. We can absolutely experience happiness and joy, we can sit and laugh with friends, but it’s only when you’re in your own company does it begin to dwell amongst your thoughts. It is dark. It is lonely. It is cold, relentless and unforgiving.

I have been through depression, and it was a very difficult period. There’s this feeling of worthlessness that you can’t explain. In fact, I would say it’s impossible to explain depression to people that haven’t actually gone through it. It isn’t a sad day where your hormones are on the fritz and you want to cry and watch The Notebook. It’s a sad state of mind where everything you do feels hollow, deep and black. You would rather sleep and dream than to be awake – because being awake is like a living nightmare. Your mind is a strong tool, but it is also the greatest weapon. It is as if it enjoys twisting your thoughts into a self-sabotaging disaster.

A classic fix for the NHS is a prescription for anti-depressants and few therapy sessions however I never took the opportunity to speak with someone. I battled internally for a long time. I used to stop taking my anti-depressants for a few weeks as I didn’t like the ‘numb’ feeling they gave me. It was like I couldn’t feel any form of sadness, and what is human emotions if not a healthy balance? So I would stop, and then not long after, end up having a psychotic breakdown. Unfortunately for me, a healthy emotional balance isn’t on the menu.

I’m not going to bore you with the details of my experience, but I can now say I have made it 10 months without one anti-depressant. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m learning to keep my mind occupied and remain positive. But it will be a life-long struggle. I accept that.

Not every person is built the same way. Not every human brain functions and thinks alike. I am fortunate to have seen the light at the end of the tunnel – and that’s not in a death way – it’s in a ‘I overcame the darkness’ way. Not everyone can do that, and unfortunately many thousands of lives have ended because of it. Suicide can feel like it’s your only option, but there’s so much about life to explore that will one day bring you happiness – or at least that’s the hope.

You have to remember that nobody can change the way you think. You cannot force happiness into someone’s brain. In some ways, depression can be worse than a cancer – cancers can be removed through treatments, but depression is a matter of the mind – and to this day we still don’t fully understand the power of the mind. (This statement isn’t being made flippantly, I have lost close family to cancer and fully understand the severity of the illness – I’m using it as a visual tool)

If we look at today’s news, it is a prime example of a man who put smiles upon millions of faces, but could never manage to put a smile on his own. I don’t mean that in the obvious sense. He smiled. Internally, though – that smile rarely existed.

I didn’t know Robin Williams personally, I knew him – as many did – as a Scottish nanny, a wish-granting Genie, a stubborn yet empathetic therapist and a boy who would never grow up. I hope he is now able to rest in peace and his mind is at ease. I would like to think that he will now be able to exist in the future as an advocate for Mental Illness and help raise awareness to such unfortunate issues. You were a funny man, Robin Williams. You will go down in history as a fantastic actor and comedic legend. Thank you.


Below I have listed some organisations which help people going through many forms of mental health issues – and I sincerely hope that you get the help you need and that you get better. Don’t forget – if you are not a sufferer, you can also donate to some of these organisations so that they continue helping those that are less “mentally fortunate” than you.

Thank you for reading. Stay Strong.

Samaritans –
Rethink –
Together –

If you are aware of any other charities/organisations, please list them in the comment box below.


Ring on my finger & a plate full of coke.


*DISCLAIMER: As misleading as the title of this post may be, I did not get engaged. Nor did I partake in any illegal substance abuse.

OK. Anyway. Hi. So, let’s cast our minds back to June 2014.. I remember it vividly. It was around 300 degrees (total exaggeration) in London, the tubes were grossly sweaty and overcrowded (not an exaggeration) and I was on my way to Manchester to meet a boy. (*Oooooh* I hear you saying)

Quick background story: I had been speaking to this guy – let’s call him Dick – I had been speaking to Dick for a good few years through Twitter. On and off. A friend (at the time) actually started dating him, and that’s how I came to get to know Dick. They both dated for a while, it seemed very serious, until Dick hit me up on the private, we started flirting – I obviously felt horrible (No, I didn’t) that we were talking behind my friend (at the time)’s back, but we had such a connection. We made a cuter couple.
After a while, Dick & my now ex-friend broke things off, and I thought it would be the PERFECT time for me to swoop in and live happily ever after… But, no. Dick became a dick.
I would like to state that Dick is basically 30, but for some reason, he treated Twitter like a 14-year-old girl pining after One Direction – but in Dick’s case, One Direction were actually gay men (You know what I mean!) It was like he craved their attention. Dick was handsome and charming, in a pretty crude way. He began tweeting a lot of other guys, explaining how moist his ‘vagina’ got after seeing their pictures. It obviously infuriated me because I felt that our months of emailing back and forth actually meant nothing. I told Dick straight that he was an immature douchebag, and we fell out.


Now a year later, I decided to reach back out to Dick – maybe he had grown up, right? WRONG. He hadn’t. But still, people change…? WRONG. Anyway, I’m totally ruining the story. We got back in touch, exchanged a heap of text messages, late night phone calls – He seemed like the good old Dick. He was into fitness now, he seemed uber-positive about everything, which is actually really annoying, but still – positivity is positive, right? He ate organic all the time (to the point of obsession) so I made myself believe that people really could come to their senses and change.

Dick then decided to invite me to stay at his place in Manchester. I felt like perhaps by me taking a leap of faith, that the universe would reward me and turn my life into a Nicholas Sparks movie. He would be the Ryan Gosling (he had that whole blonde hair/rugged beard thang going but by no means is he Gosling hot) and I would be the Rachel McAdams. (I have a great set of tits)

This takes us back to present day, June 2014. It’s a Friday afternoon. I’ve arrived at Euston Station. The nerves have hit me like I had guzzled a litre full of laxatives. I’m a scaredy-cat when it comes to meeting guys, and here I am, travelling cross-country for someone. I decided to settle my stomach and chow down on a Double XL Bacon Cheeseburger and a Diet Coke like a famished orphan.


The POA was that Dick would get me from the station in his brand new Ferrari that he hadn’t shut up about all week (Lesbi-honest, if I had just bought a Ferrari, I would be banging on about it, too!) However, once I got to Manchester, he apparently didn’t know how to fill it up with fuel so I caught a taxi – which wasn’t a problem. To be honest, I had been really demanding by requesting all types of food, snacks and beverages, so even stevens I guess?


I am now there. I have arrived. I am in his apartment. Holy shitballs. He’s taller than I thought. Better looking in person (Still not Ryan Gosling hot). He was honestly so polite and kind, and really sweet. He went to so much effort for me. I felt so special. His apartment is close to the canal, and he has this big terrace area where we sat and drank wine, listening to music, talking about life and travelling… We were flirting. He complimented my legs, my skin complexion, told me I was the most gorgeous person he had ever met. hinted at marriage (WTF? But OK) and completely mocked my voice and said I sounded like Ja’mie when I spoke.

jamie-hot-seriouslyIt really was the perfect evening. Until it spiraled out of control. His phone rang at around 11:30pm, I think? It was his best friend, they asked if they could come over, he said yes. I was obviously nervous and truth be told, a little bit annoyed but by this point we had drunk about two bottles of wine, so I could either be annoyed or crack open another bottle and enjoy the company.

His best friends arrived – a boyfriend and girlfriend duo – Let’s call them Shane & Katy. I loved Shane & Katy. They made me feel so welcome there. Even though they had interrupted mine and Dick’s evening, I couldn’t be happier. We had more drinks flowing, the music got louder, we were dancing around like leprechauns on crack. It’s now probably around 2am. I had been invited to Dubai. Dick’s best friend Shane was in love with me and told me I was the perfect guy for Dick. I obviously agreed.

flawlessNow it all gets a little bit bizarre…

I went for a little bathroom break, returned outside, only to be greeted by Dick bringing out two random strangers. I decided to ask Katy “Who the fuck are they?” She had no idea. I figured surely someone who had known Dick for years would know his friends. But the newbies weren’t friends of Dicks, the new folks were strangers off the street. So, to clarify, Dick invited strangers from the street to join, what was originally our date night. However, it’s his house. He can do what he likes. (FYI – due to the Data Protection Act, let’s call the new guests Lester & Lucy. They are also boyfriend and girlfriend) So now it’s me, Dick, his best friends Shane & Katy, and the strangers Lester & Lucy.

Dick was drunk, and he completely changed after a drink. I became a hella lot more outgoing, whilst Dick was quite pensive and introvert. On his phone a lot. That sorta thing. This was until Dick set his sights on Lester. At first, it was little things. They were dancing together, cracking jokes, and basically all over each other. I think Dick’s friend Shane could tell I was annoyed, even though I put on my best smile, so he tried to show me some attention and in a way, console me, but I wasn’t interested. Lester’s girlfriend Lucy appeared oblivious to the whole thing, but she was too busy gurning her face off to realise I suppose. (We’ll get back to that)

About 10 minutes went by, and I realised that Dick & Lester were MIA. At this point, images of Dick’s old tweets and whore-ish ways are flashing through my mind – And I know what it’s like to try and get your way with a straight guy. I knew what Dick had in mind.

I decided to go on a little hunt around Dick’s apartment, opening every door I could find. They weren’t canoodling in the kitchen, banging in the boiler cupboard, boning in the bedroom or fornicating in the foyer… But one door was left. The bathroom. I pushed it open and Lester is sitting on the edge of the bath.

“Oh, sorry!” I said, re-closing the door
“Alright, pal” He replied

Just as I went to close the door, Dick shouts out from behind it “I’m just doing a piss. Be out in a minute”

I closed the door and I just felt this weight come over me. My heart was racing. I was so drunk, and all I could think about was what could two strangers be doing in the bathroom together? And why the fuck is Lester just watching him pee? I’m not an idiot but I want to give Dick the benefit of the doubt.

At the end of the day, we’re not in a relationship. However, I think we both had intentions of seeing where things went with us over the weekend. So I just felt it was really disrespectful to not treat me like a guest who had travelled hundreds of miles to meet you. Instead, by 2am, I was treated like I wasn’t there and it was fucking Lester who had come all the way to meet you. Lester walked all of a fucking mile over a foot bridge.

I walked into the kitchen to pour myself a drink, and I turn to my left and see a plate full of cocaine with lines all racked up. (This was why Lucy was so oblivious to Lester’s antics. She came for the coke) But seriously – what the fuck is this?! Not cool. I get that people do drugs, it’s the norm. I don’t like it, but I don’t judge people for doing it on a night out. It happens. But come on, dude? You’re 30. You’re at home. What are you achieving by snorting this? So gross. My opinion on Dick is very quickly changing. The “immature douchebag” I had labelled him earlier was becoming more and more apparent.

So here I am, standing in the kitchen with a bottle of Grey Goose, reading a fucking picture frame with the lyrics to ‘Wake Me Up’ by Avicii inside that his sister bought him, and it could not be more fucking appropriate. Wake me up when it’s all over.

Dick emerges from the bathroom, re-buckling his stupid Hermes belt, which quite frankly, the H may aswell stand for Heinous Asshole for all I care. He comes over to me, kisses me, and asks me to join him in the bedroom. His mouth tasted like bleach, but that was the drugs.

Reluctantly, I go. Because I’m a fucking twat.

I suppose I went because I wanted to prove to him that I was the better choice, and worth waiting for, and all these other reasons I shouldn’t have to justify by having sex with the man.

We started getting into it. He apologised for having such a small penis, but I told him I don’t care about size. I’m hardly Jon Hamms myself. About 5 minutes into foreplay, Dick makes the classic dick move and asks “If you could have anyone join us right now, who would it be?”

bridesmaids-are-you-fucking-kidding-me“Zac Efron” I replied. (Because, who wouldn’t?!)
“OK.. What about people that are here?” He asked

Now I want to fucking kill you. I thought it best to say something that might piss him off, because I knew what he was thinking. He wanted lanky fucking Lester to join us. So I went with his best friend.

“Well, Shane’s hot – I’d like him to come in on this. What about you?” I said.
He didn’t even batter an eyelid!
“I want that guy (he means Lester) out there to come in and find us” Dick replied
“Oh really?” I questioned
“Yeah, he’s got a huge c**k” Dick mentioned
“And how do you know that?” I asked.
My inner Veronica Mars was in full swing. SUCH  a detective, seriously.
“I got a hold of it in the toilet earlier. When he pulled his trousers down, I grabbed it” Dick said.

Are you seething as much as I am, readers? Because trust me. My blood still boils to this day.

I finished up in there with him and walked out. Now, I don’t even want to look at this Lester guy (which by the way, he was like a 5.5 at most) and his poor unknowing girlfriend Lucy. I also just want to leave entirely, but it’s 4am. My train home isn’t until Sunday. What the hell am I going to do?

Dick is back to paying a ton of attention to Lester, they’re all blah-ing about Dick’s mum and how wealthy she is and that she survived the war or something, and how her business is revolutionary? Like, it’s a fucking psychic call centre. I don’t care if she gave birth to Martin Luther King at this point. I want you all to shut the fuck up and leave.


Dick decides to get in touch with his dealer again and order another round of drugs (like, really?! Ugh.) I have Lucy telling me how amazing the coke is, I have Lester basically feeling Dick up in front of me like they’re best buds or something and Shane still trying to convince me to fly to Dubai. I just want to leave. I text basically all of my friends, but obviously there was no answer as they were all asleep. I sent a message to my brother James in LA who was with his friend John, due to the time difference, he would be awake… I explained the situation and they both agreed I should go… then it transpires that Dick sent a message to my brother earlier that day… WHAT?!

Yeah. Apparently Dick sent my brother a message to tell him about me going up there. My brother didn’t say much more, apart from the fact that Dick is gross. My feelings were perhaps Dick got a bit too descriptive with him. But seriously, where the fuck do you get off telling my brother about my visit? That is my business to discuss with my family. It all seemed really f*cking shady. My brother gave me some wise, age old advice, and ended our conversation by saying “I suggest you LEAVE”.

It finally gets to 5:30am. Lester & Lucy leave. Thank God. Katy is asleep. Shane is still dancing. Dick decides to take off his ring and put it on my finger, asking me to “look after it”?


I don’t want to look after your ring. I’m not sure if this is some shitty metaphor you’re trying to pull, like how you trust me with your jewellery, or want to commit to me, or apologise for your shady behaviour, but I don’t want it. I want it off my finger. I want it to be gone. So, after about 10 minutes trying to get it off, I give it back, and he seems confused.

Finally, Shane & Katy decide to leave at around 6:00am. Shane asks what our plans are for the next day. Dick says he might drive us over to his Mum’s house to meet her. WHAT?! I am not meeting your mother. Are you kidding me?


I left it open for discussion and just smiled. I said goodbye to Shane & Katy because I’ll actually miss them.

After they left, I decided to tell Dick that I may want to leave in the morning (it’s already the morning) because I don’t feel comfortable. He started apologising for the drugs, but for some reason, I couldn’t be up front and tell him the only reason I felt uncomfortable was because I thought he was a disrespectful man-slut who completely mugged me off.

After the less-than-stellar discussion, we spoke about two words to eachother, I woke up less than two hours later at 8am, got ready, ordered an Uber and left. I transferred my ticket and got the hell out of there.


Dick still hasn’t text me or called me to see if I got home OK. Part of me wonders what would’ve happened if I’d have stayed. Another part tells me I dodged a bullet by seeing his true colours. Another part tells me it’s karma for meddling in his initial relationship all those years ago.

You live and you learn. A leopard never changes its spots. Seasons change; people don’t. And sometimes, date’s fucking SUCK. Yes, you had probably forgotten this was a date. A weekend that was supposed to be filled with cute date things, like picnics and dinners. It had formed into a scandalous evening of drugs, booze, strangers and slutty behaviour. Not my scene.

This experience has made me aware that just because you put yourself out there, it doesn’t mean it all falls into place. Life isn’t a Nicholas Sparks movie. This felt more like Trainspotting.

Get it? Trainspotting? Drugs? I got on a train? – That was a terrible pun, I’m sorry