Lets chat about mental health and my lovely new housemate…
Warning in advance: not all of this post is cheerful!
- Black Dog (noun)
A metaphorical representation of melancholy or depression.
- Dark Horse (noun)
A person who keeps their interests and ideas secret, especially someone who has a surprising ability or skill.
So I’ve come to the realisation that I became a dark horse. I lost and avoided a lot of the things that made me passionate, and brave. I’m also not ashamed to admit that it’s been 6 years since I was diagnosed with depression, and taking daily medication (I’m happy to say) makes a huge difference. To anyone feeling anxious or cautious about medication, please don’t let other’s opinions or experiences alter your Doctor’s recommendations. Begin your recommended prescription, and if after a couple of months it doesn’t work, at least you have tried.
Right now, I’m lucky enough to be at a huge turning point in my life, and have the opportunity to give myself a royal kick up the arse to get back on track.
At the beginning of 2016, I didn’t think I was lucky. January marked the end of my 6 year relationship with my lovely fiancé, who has previously been mentioned in this blog as ‘Ginge’ .
Lets get the facts straight. That relationship was my first experience of love, real love, and has now become my first experience of heartbreak. I’m writing this post at my desk in work, and I’m surprised at the speed and passion in which I’m typing. It truly is an incredible outlet to put your thoughts and feelings into words, and I’m so grateful I have this blog!
He saw me through thick and thin (literally, pre and post thyroid problem!), supported my plans and dreams, often made me feel beautiful in my worst states, and sat through a lot of shite films just for me. He’s a wonderful person, and I was very lucky to be loved by him and experience a loving friendship and relationship in one. Also, his parents are total legends, who still welcome me with open arms.
In the immortal words of Sandra Dee;
‘Guess mine is not the first heart broken, my eyes are not the first to cry’
I’ve cried alone, I’ve cried on friend’s shoulders, and I’ve cried into Darwin and Delilah’s fur (to which they have responded with a disgruntled lick). I believe I am to blame for the end of the relationship, as I made bad choices that we could not recover from. The things I am guilty of, he was guilty of too, but I overstepped the mark. I was selfish, impatient, exhausted, and becoming the pessimist I never thought I would be. However, at the end of the day, he decided that he did not want any children in the future, which is a massive deal-breaker for me. We had ‘the chat’ before my birthday (26th January). Neither of us immediately had somewhere else to move, so we agreed on 2/3 months of co-habiting until we set ourselves up. We stayed in the same bed, we still hugged and kissed, and I’m grateful we had that time together knowing we could still be comfortable in each other’s presence.
A few months later, with surprisingly few awkward moments, we moved out of our home together and went our separate ways at the beginning of April. As he was staying with his parents, I became the sole custodian of our furbabies. I had been in talks with a regular acquaintance and loyal customer from the Urban Decay days, who seemed really keen and happy to find a house with me. I always found her easy to talk to, and she reminded me of my pre-hypothyroidism self in a lot of ways. After quite a few dismal viewings, we found our dream house nestled in the middle of 2 shops on one of the busiest roads in Preston. It’s huge, beautiful, modern-yet-Victorian, and we can make as much noise as we want without pissing of the neighbours! Here’s me and my new #hauswife Abi on moving day:
She’s been an absolute star these last few months, and has seen me in all my natural states (undressed, drunk, sad, hyper, stressed, and we already seem to have inforced a ‘no door closed’ rule, even when it comes to the bathroom!). We have similar tastes in colour and patterns, an affinity for makeup, and she loves my furbabies as her adopted children. We are grown up enough to pay our bills on time and have a clean and tidy house, indulgent enough to have super-snacking nights in, and immature enough to poke each other in the boob as a morning greeting. She’s already like a little sister to me, and I lovingly peel off her lashes and wash her face when she’s drunk in my bed. She’s also a STUNNER and a fantastic face to use for my portfolio!
Thank you Abi, for encouraging a happy new chapter in my life. For giving me cuddles, laughs, space when I need it, and love. What a wonderful coincidence that we both needed each other at the right time.You’re my little sister for life now, and even when your room is a state and your knickers are on the bathroom floor, I love you. You’ve helped keep the black dog at bay and I’m forever grateful.
Now I need to sort out the black horse. I began this blog in July 2015, and promised an aspect of performance was involved.
So where’s the cabaret fueled, burlesque blooded, vaudeville vocalist Patti Cakes?
I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been a bit shit. I want to initially market myself as a singer and compère, a professional quality vocalist with a larger than life stage presence. There are already some incredible ladies and gents out there doing this kind of thing: Reuben Kaye, Kiki deVille and Em Brulee to name a few!
I’ve had the chance to see some incredible shows this year. I’m constantly inspired and empowered, yet I still have that horrible, spiteful little shadow of doubt in my mind. Silly really, the support I’ve already received is overwhelming. I have international stars on my side like Havana, and I can always trust Eliza to give me an honest and professional opinion. I even have opportunities on my front door, like Rock Hart’s Hartcore Cabaret regularly held in Preston. I’ve been warming up my voice and vocally training when I’m in the house, and creating set lists on Spotify, learning from other performer’s choices and ensuring what I have to offer is still unique in an industry full of ‘All That Jazz’ and ‘Valerie’.
I’m going to buy a tripod for my camera this month, and record some singing for you all. There will be updates on costumes shortly, and fingers crossed, a casting announcement!