(This is a wall collage from my bedroom at home, aged and a little childish. But it distills something so raw about being a teenager.)

I moved out last week. That's right, Angela "One Melt Down A Week" Healey has been trusted to move three hours from home and live alone. But I have been ready for this move for what feels like a very long time. One thing that really struck me, while looking around my room before I packed all my things away, was just how much I've changed over the last few years.

     

If you've seen my room tour you'll know that my walls are covered in collages, posters and concert tickets. Over time I've accumulated things that meant a great deal to me. Articles by Jamela Jamil that resonated with me from a magazine that went out of print over a year ago. Tickets from museums and train tickets from cities I want to visit again. Everything mashes together to make a homely and gorgeous bedroom. But upon closer inspection the walls of that room show just the depth of my personal growth. Concert tickets from bands I no longer like but obsessed over at 15. Photos from magazines of girls I aspired to look like but would never hope to look like now. Even better are the girls who wore what, at the time, I wanted the confidence to wear but simply didn't have. I made art out of lyrics that touched my soul. But now my soul is different. I'm different.

This point was reiterated when I noticed a cutout of a girl with a nose piercing bluetack-ed to my wall. This was a photo I had put up to encourage me to pierce my own nose. Something I have wanted for years and something I had done less than a month ago. The photos of all the girls with short hair that I put on show to have the balls to try it out myself, which I did earlier this year aswell. The "I like books more than people" cut out had so much angst it made me unconfortable to look at. There are photos of bands that once meant the world to me but now provide little solace when I need it. And that's because my problems have changed. What stressed 15 year old Angela out doesn't anymore. And I couldn't be happier about that.

When I think about how much personal growth I have been through I honestly shock myself. Just like every other person on the planet, as my age has increased so has my confidence and my abilities. I'd be lying if I said there have been times where I feel like I'm stuck back in 16 year old Angela's head again. Where I'm too scared to walk past the huge group of girls coming my way or I'm too nervous to eat before I start the day. But these moments are fleeting and for every panic attack there are 18 conversations started that younger Ang definitely wouldn't have started. Everyone is their own worst critic and if all we do is focus on how little some aspects of ourselves have changed we'll fail to notice all the fantastic things we do every day which would have been unthinkable a few years prior. I can walk with my head held high, nose ring sparkling in the sunlight as my short hair blows in the breeze knowing that at 19 years old I've come a long way from the shirvelled up terrified Ang that once thought she had grown all that a person could.  

Recently I read How To Be A Woman by Caitlin Moran. I would honestly recommend this book to anyone with a vagina because it does something I simply haven't come across in literature before and it made me properly realise something. The female experience is something that isn't discussed enough. Despite the fact that half of the population of the earth is female, there are still many, many things about being a woman that are taboo. And I can't thank Caitlin enough for helping me come to this realisation. So I decided that I will try and help the situation in a very very small way by writing about my experiences with the more taboo aspects of being a woman. For those who are afraid to call a vagina a vagina or for those of a sensitive disposition you can click away now. This won't be for you.

I have never discussed this before apart from once, over a red faced iMessage convo with a friend I'm no longer in contact with. Before this conversation aged 16 I thought I was weird, disgusting, even a little gone in the head. See, before this conversation I thought female masturbation was wrong. I thought that this thing I'd discovered accidentally was shameful and should be kept my utmost secret. At 12 years old, about three months before I was to make my Confirmation I came across the clitoris. I'd like to point out at this stage that I still didn't really have ANY idea where the vagina was so I described everything in that general area as my bum. T W E L V E. ANYWAY, once I found this and once I had done the thing, I was overcome with shame. I was convinced that upon entering a church I would burn, that I would be forever bound to hell. But that didn't stop me from continuing to do the thing that made me guilty. HELL NO. Instead I would let my hand run wild then cry for an hour at my lack of self control and my anxiety for the next time I entered a church.

Over time I learned I was wrong. My skin didn't burn when holy water touched it and adults aren't able to tell how much of a heathen I was. Over time the guilt faded. But it was a secret I kept close to my chest until very recently, shared only with my boyfriend and joked about with friends. But here's my problem; male and female masturbation are treated very very differently. My biggest proof of this is that there isn't a single common slang word for female masturbation. And how many are there for male? We all know countless ones because it isn't held such a tight secret. There was never any shame to wank for boys, infact it was expected. But still there are girls around the world who are discovering themselves and their sexuality that believe playing with their clit is shameful and wrong. But it ain't. It's normal and healthy and helps you to discover your sexuality. We all know how awful it would have been to have our first every sexual encounter but have no knowledge of what actually works. Young boys are quite useless with the female anatomy so the more you can tell them what to do the better. You're educating them really. 

By treating female masturbation as taboo we are doing a diservice to women and young girls everywhere. Play with your clit, find yourself. Don't ever let shame overshadow a solo orgasm again. Life is too short not to have sticky fingers every once in a while. 

No matter what age you are, at some point you will find things that remind you of your past self. Photos hide under beds, journals are stacked beside cd's and old plane tickets lay amongst the wires and old batteries that reside in your bottom drawer. Usually they make you sad. If not sad at least melconcholic-ly reminiscent of a time when things were better, simpler or just easier. And I know that feeling. 

But today as I looked for an old french text book I found my Bucketlist. Well not my bucketlist, more the bucket list of 14 year old angela. Angela who obsessed over MCR and refused to cut her hair. I refrained from looking at the piece of paper for a few minutes, wondering if I really wanted to let myself feel sad today. "You're finally starting to get a little happier, don't wreck it now," I thought. But then I went for it. It would only bug me if I didn't read it. 

When I finished reading the 103 things on the list I expected to feel bad, under-achieved and just plain awful. But I didn't. I felt warm. I felt like I'd just come home after two weeks with someone I hate. I felt a kind of calmness I have't been subjected to in a REALLY long time. Why? Because I've changed. And I'm so so overwhelmingly happy that I've changed. No one should share the same dreams as their 14/15 year old self. Granted I had accomplished 20-30 things on that bucket list but none of those things were forced. Most of the things I had achieved didn't happen for a few years after the list was made and by which time I'd completely forgotten it actually existed. And that's the thing. Life shouldn't be rushed. You shouldn't do a whole list of things in a certain time frame just to get them done. You should do them when you're ready and not let anyone pressure you into thinking otherwise. I completely understand that you should take life by the horns when you're young and able to. 

However,

 one thing I really noticed from this bucketlist is that I didn't care about most of the things on it. Yeah the times have changed so "Become Tumblr Famous" obviously doesn't appeal to me anymore. But "Get Front Row Tickets" wasn't for me. It was so I could tell my friends about the experience. It's definitely best that I didn't "get front row tickets" because I would have been left feeling a little empty and wondering why I got more pleasure crossing it from my list than actually attending the concert. 

How many people do you know that do things just to have a story to tell? No crazy story starts with "So we decided to stay in and watch Netflix" but a story isn't crazy unless you feel it. Unless you are so happy and caught in the whirlwind of what happened then I'm afraid that isn't a crazy story. Stories of getting stoned and high and so drunk I fell over the bouncer don't interest me in the slightest anymore because everyone does that. I haven't gotten drunk once where I haven't unintentionally done something equally funny and embarrassing.

 Tell me how you and a stranger fell into an alley and before you knew it you were back at their place eating popcorn in bed. Tell me how much you were touched by Barcelona and how you deeply you fell for that french guy you met at the airport. Life isn't actually about all the events you go to or how many times you got drunk with your friends. It's about the new experiences, the emotions and the things that give you goosebumps. Those are real things to achieve and while you can't write them all in a disgustingly long list, that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Life isn't meant to be lived via checklist. Make a note of - go to Italy but don't tick it off the second you step foot off the plane in Milan. Everyone can go on holiday. It isn't much of an achievement. Bucketlists should be something to further yourself. Emotionally, physically and in every other way a person can change. 

That's why I was so happy. I realised that while I haven't visited Paris or gone sky diving, I have felt. I have felt deeply and I've had moments where I was so happy to be alive. 

Also I'm NOT saying that I don't want to hear every embarrassing drunk story ever told by my friends cos I damnwell do. So if you're reading this keep filling me in. I LOVE IT.

(I took this photo the last time I ever hung out successfully with my old friend group)

Last summer was a weird one for me. It feels like yesterday but it's been nearly three months since Summer ended. 

This summer I lost some friends. Through no fault but my own. Well, initially. 

I won't get into the ins and outs of what happened but here's the gist. 

I told two friends about a secret best friend swore me to secret about. She found out six months later from one of the friends I told.

I apologised and apologised but my best friend wouldn't accept it. As a result, and knowing I had drifted from the group already, I said I'd leave the group and keep in contact with everyone separately so as not to see my best friend. I didn't want everything to be nice as pie to my face and then having everyone hate me behind my back. This didn't come across in my messages so a few of my other friends took it that I didn't wanna be their friend anymore. 

Cut to a few weeks later and I find that the little clique went on a lil escapade without telling anyone outside of their newly formed clique. I post an indirect on Instagram through a tag which doesn't go down well and results in me being completely hated by the clique.

While I am fully aware I was in the wrong to begin and it was so immature of me to indirect I learned something massive from it. Apart from the obvious don't tell a huge secret when I know I shouldn't. 

Never ever apologise more than once for a mistake. I'm not in anyway saying you shouldn't apologise. But give one sincere apology. And I mean really really mean it. If the other person won't forgive you, then that isn't someone you want to be friends with. It is nothing but immature and, if I'm honest, stupid. Especially from an old and best friend. 

I also learned this summer that some friendships aren't as meaningful or watertight as you'd think. I lost friends in June but have I missed them? Not at all. I haven't had a forced conversation, or been forced to listen to immature freak outs for FIVE MONTHS. But what I've enjoyed most is not hearing backhanded digs at me, my boyfriend or my general feelings. It's a horrible feeling to be scared to tell your closest friends things for fear of ridicule or mean comments. My real friends shone through and I'm closer than ever to all of them. And despite the fact they know I told a secret, they still trust me and I'm one of their best friends. They understand that people make mistakes and they agree with me on the whole issue. We are different people and have different personalities but we still GET each other. 

So to anyone reading this here's what you should take away from this post:

⁃ If you make a mistake give one sincere and meaningful apology and if it isn't enough don't give another. 

⁃ If friends leave you when there's a split in the group, they aren't your friends. No matter how long you've been friends or how close you thought you were. 

Everyone makes mistakes and if you learn from them then you shouldn't be too hard on yourself. Good things can come from mistakes which is exactly what happened to me. 

Thanks for reading and be sure to check out my social media. 

(Photo credit to owner)

Photo backstory:

(Credit to illustration owner. It amazes me that a piece of art can so accurate depict such true emotions in one simple back and white pencil drawing.) 

When was the last time you let yourself think? Really, really think. I don't let myself do it too often. In fact I don't think I properly thought, or let my mind be truly free, in months. I never put away my distractions because I didn't like what I found when my mind had free reign. In fact, I hated it. I shoved down everything that my brain brought up. I pushed every single anxiety and fear to the back of my mind and locked them away with a small tear and a quivering lip. 

I've been like this as far as I can remember.  When I was 8 years old I had a play date with a brand new friend, but I wasn't excited. Instead I clung to my fathers hand and cried. Even at that age I knew I shouldn't be feeling how I did so I blamed it on a cut I had on my knee. But over the years my anxieties and fears become normalised. I saw a part of myself in everyone around me, my dad was terrified of the dentist and my mum hated hospitals. My friend would shake when her dog went missing and my another had the shakes when their parents rang them. Every one of these was a part of me. 

       Despite 8 year old me knowing something wasn't right, I forgot about it and distracted myself with various things and have continued to ever since. I would meet with friends and talk about their problems and forget about mine. I'd go shopping and buy myself a pair of shoes specifically to wear when my head got loud again because the laces were awkward so I could distract myself again. I listen to music about happiness and love because one sad lyric could destroy the prison I made for what's wrong with my mind. 

      But the other day I put away my distractions and went to a party. I was drunk. And I was scared. For no reason at all my mind opened the lock on everything I'd pushed away and denied even feeling. Everything came spilling from my mouth. It felt like poison and my mind felt tired. I shook. I wept. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run my nails so hard into my flesh that it took away from the pain in my head. Everything felt so loud. I couldn't escape and I couldn't distract myself. 19 years of distraction dredged up things I wanted so badly to forget. I don't want to feel like this. I want to breathe freely again. I want to be able to write how I used to without having to stop because I can't think about that again. I want to be able to live in my hometown without wanting to escape because my mind won't shut up there.              So I'm taking steps. I'm not going to complain about the tiny problems I have anymore in order to distract those I'm complaining to, from asking me what's really wrong. I'll be honest and hope they can take what's coming. I'm going to eat healthier and exercise. As my best friend once said 'endorphins are powerful stuff' so it'll help my mind and body to calm itself. Finally it sometimes feels like I'm the only one around me that feels like this. It can be a very lonely time when I can't sleep or eat properly but feel like everyone else is too happy or busy to have a simple conversation. So I'm going to start the convo more often, instead of screaming into the void of tumblr or my diary. And if my friends read this they should know I'm always here to do the same for them. I know what it's like so I can at least try and help. 

• Join a writing class
• Join an exercise class
• Get out of my every day routine
• Get out of my town more
• WRITE MORE GODDAMMIT
• FINALLY REVIEW AN ALBUM
• FINALLY REVIEW A CONCERT
• FINALLY REVIEW A BOOK
• Buy that dress and those jeans and that lipstick
• If you wanna leave home for a while, go
• STOP DOING THE SAME THINGS AND BEING MISERABLE 

I'm a typical millennial pop culture enthusiast. I enjoy Keeping Up With the Kardashians, Nicki Minaj was my most streamed artist of 2015 and I know every tattoo Harry Styles has in chronological order. I don't enjoy maths, computers or anime. I love Lena Dunham and real life and stay as far away as possible from intergalactic space Odessys. These interests don't mean that I'm intellectually inferior to those who hate every Kardashian, thinks boyband pop is the thing of the devil and enjoys reading manga, contradictory to some beliefs. 

So story time; I have quite an over bearing father, the "whatever I say is right" type. Growing up I never argued and took what he says as bible. But in the last few years I've noticed he actually isn't always right. When I corrected him I was met with "stop contradicting, have some respect." Sometimes he was right. Age brings with it a level of intelligence an 18 year old can only look forward to. But others he was wrong. I was correcting, not contradicting. I've since stopped pointing out everything, I choose my battles. After all he is my father and I can at least allow him to think he's the smarter one. 

However of late I've been made to feel inferior countless times. Most people I spend time with don't share the same interests as me and 90% of them are wonderful. When I try to join in on a topic I have no interest in and therefor have no knowledge of they smile, and tell me what's what, nicely. Then there's the 10%. This group of people's most common phrases include:

"But Nicki Minaj is so fake, how can you respect that?"

"Beyoncé isn't even a feminist, did you listen to If I Were A Boy?"

"Harry Styles looks like a rat." 

SHUT UP. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! 

You don't like them? Fair enough, your opinion is your opinion. But don't lecture and criticise me when I tell you my interests. If I'm expected to listen to you talk about the latest version of Android or look at photos of your desktop layout then you can shut up and listen to me speak about the changes Nicki Minaj has made to thousands of women's lives. If you roll your eyes when I say Beyoncé's new song is so incredible then, you'd think, I could roll my eyes when someone spouts off about the latest Sword Art Online graphic novel. WRONG. I'm usually told "you just dont get it" and their soliloquy about the emotional and creative depth of a graphic novel begins. 

This behaviour is usually accompanied by something that I'm starting to fight back against. Contradicting me on topics they know nothing about. Yesterday I had a conversation with someone about Romeo and Juliet. He went on about how crap it was, how the plot was atrocious and how there is no depth to the play. This person had never read or watched Romeo and Juliet. I, on the other hand, had studied it. I know that play in and out purely because it's the only Shakespeare I loved. I argued it out on a very quiet bus until he retreated. The same person also said Beyonce discriminates against men. Needless to say I disregarded that statement as just plain ignorant. Which is what most of these people are. I swear if one more tracksuit bottomed boy who knows nothing about female empowerment, tells me Nicki Minaj is a slut I'm going to scream so loud in his face he won't be able to hear his ignorant statements ever again.

I'm being honest when I say I'm made to feel inferior on a daily basis. In the last few months I've started to fight back against everyone who feels they are superior because they believe they are more intellectual. I've began to act the same way as them about topics I'm passionate about. Usually it doesn't go down well. Just because I stalk Kylie Jenners Instagram doesn't mean I can't shut you up by telling you what feminism actually is and why arrogant and ignorant boys who think they're superior are the reason it exists. 

If you are one of these people, please stop and listen to yourself. You mightn't be doing it intentionally but you are still doing it. So stop. And if you are the one being made to feel inferior, fight back. Tell them to shut up and tell them why they're wrong. They fucking deserve it. 

This is a tough one. I've had a good life with many happy moments. When I was four and I sat on Santa's lap and he told me I was a good girl I beamed for a week. When my family brought our Labrador Bart home and he ran to me first I felt a weird sense of maternal happiness towards a tiny puppy. When my boyfriend inadvertently told me he loved me as we sat on my bedroom floor laughing and enjoying a freedom I'd never experienced before, I felt my heart expand. But I think the happiest moment of my life was my first day of college. 

Here's some back story. On the week running up to September 1st I was not in a good place. I felt alone and isolated. I was riddled with anxieties I didn't even know I had. So September 1st came and I couldn't breath. On the day that should have been my first day of college I had my first panic attic. I was shaking and crying uncontrollably for hours. But after a few days and a little medication I managed to venture into college. 

My friend was also attending college that day. He stayed with me til my first class started, walked me into my building and wished me luck with a hug. I walked nervously, checking the room number of every door and my heart quickened with every door that passed. I looked up and outside the room I was supposed to be stood a group of 15 people, all around my age or a bit older. My voice shook as I asked if this was journalism. They all nodded happily. A few people chatted and laughed with each other but I just stared around me hoping no one would notice just how nervous I was, I prayed my shaking hand wouldn't be spotted by the class joker. Luckily it wasn't and a minute later my lecturer walks past and everyone files into the class. I sat beside a girl who become a great friend throughout the year. Without such a friendly face I don't even know what I would have done. After the day was over I returned home, so, so relived. I felt so at peace and so happy. I had actually accomplished something and over come my anxieties and fears. That was the purest form of happiness I've ever felt. 

Thanks for reading. You can read the rest of my November Blogging Challenge here. 

I'm here to write about my feelings at this moment in time. 

I keep having little epiphanies in relation to issues I have both physically and mentally. However, shortly after these epiphanies I revert to how I felt before. Maybe I overthink or maybe I'm just too fickle, but I can never stick to new positive frames of mind.

I think my biggest issues right now are my general unhappiness towards the life I live right now and my inability to shake my long term rut I seem to be stuck in.

Basically, I'm a confused 19 year old. Pretty normal. But I look at those around me and I see fulfilled people. People who enjoy what they study and have a basic career path. And those who don't, know their passions. I don't know any of these things, I crave the knowledge other people have of themselves. I want to know myself. I need to know what makes me tick. I need to go on a journey of self discovery. Is traveling the way to go? Are part time courses more useful? Is writing my thoughts onto a blank page or screen truly the most insightful path to where I want to be? I will try all three. For now I'm going to write about my dreams. I don't know if these are my dreams or just a romanticised series of events inspired by Tumblr but mashed together by my ever overactive mind.

I want to write. I want to write freely and creatively. I want to write for a purpose and I'm more than willing and happy to do those things independently. If I can make a decent living from writing I know in my heart I will be content.

I want to be busy. I want that 'on the go, coffee cup in one hand, phone on the other, constantly meeting and working' life I see of successful women. I want meetings that running late with clicking heels on puddle covered pavements. 

I want to travel with the love of my life and I want to travel alone. I want to kiss on planes, on trains and in taxis. I want roaming hands and we explore a new city. I want cheap foreign food accompanied by sunsets and smirks. I want a la cart menu looking out onto busy streets laughing to myself about how much I don't belong here. I want nights in a single bed with tea and coffee making facilities. Continental breakfasts alone. I want to barter for a gift in a language I don't speak just because I can with no one to celebrate such an accomplishment with but myself.

I want to see the vastness of what is around me. I want to see colour and paycheques and love and loneliness and friendship. I want to feel everything. I want to be talented enough to touch other people, to make a stranger think about a sentence I constructed. I want my excitement to be back. I want to feel exhilarated at the mere thought of my future.

For the first time in months I feel truly excited for my future. So maybe writing my mind was exactly what I needed. 

You know what I'm gonna write about tonight? My fears. I've had a decent amount of alone time today and tomorrow I have something I'm really quite anxious for. In fact my anxiety has been on high alert all day. Of course I don't go shouting about that, in fact I think I've managed to come off as breezy to anyone who has come in contact with me today. Being anxious over such trivial things has made me acutely aware of just how many fears I have. So I thought it'd be good for me more than for anyone else's reading pleasure that I write them out. I hope to gain some perspective on the rest of my life by doing this but we all know we can't all get philosophical meanings off everything, so maybe this will just be a list of things big and small that an 18 year old girl in Ireland fears.