The decline of mental health in medics across the globe has been and still is a growing issue. As two medics studying in the heart of London, we’ve decided that the irony of healthcare providers putting their wellbeing on hold should no longer be a stigmatised issue, but one that is spoken about unashamedly. On this blog we hope to share with you our own experiences in the medical field, our beliefs and our opinions in hopes to break down these walls and make dealing with a declining mental health, as a healthcare professional, easier.
Alongside our insight into the medical field as first and fifth year medics, we bring with us our personal journeys involving experiences with dysfunctional families, domestic violence, bereavement and sexual abuse which we wish to shed a light on in order to help those who have suffered similar, or more traumatic events, to speak out, without the fear of stigma. As women, especially coloured women of South-Asian descent, we also feel strongly about feminism, women’s rights and overcoming various cultural barriers involving the stereotyping of women.
We will be writing under the names Arya and Maya bringing you a new article from us each week. We hope that you can join us in our campaign against mental health taboo, gender inequality, abuse and trauma and gain something from it – whether that be a deeper insight into an issue or helping yourself through your own journey.
Please exercise caution when reading our articles since they may contain sensitive and potentially triggering content and please seek help if you find yourself struggling.
For sometime, or else for as long as I can remember, I have experienced an intense fear of abandonment. A few years back whilst working with a therapist I was told that this, alongside other symptoms I was experiencing, could be classed under “borderline tendencies.”
Now, without having had an official diagnosis of BPD or for having BPD tendencies I was unable to fully comprehend the symptoms I was experiencing and therefore was unable to seek appropriate help. The possibility of either diagnoses being true was, and still is, truly terrifying with such a vast stigma bolted onto the disorder with “borderlines” being classed as manipulative and attention-seeking (and difficult to treat). That image was definitely not aligned with who I try to be: someone that people trust; a loyal, supportive and kind sister, daughter and friend. If I truly was “a borderline” then the image painted of BPD by the internet and health websites would greatly conflict with the core of who I was.
Between bouts of fear and anxiety about this I tried to do my research around what BPD actually was and I found that, amongst multiple symptoms, an intense fear of abandonment was something I could really relate to. However this symptom isn’t one that is unique to BPD and so will be something that a lot of people, with different diagnoses, will experience. Therefore, I felt it would be worth writing about my own experience in an attempt to make my fellow abandonment-phobes feel less alone.
If I am to reflect on my life thus far, I realise that my fear of abandonment has greatly impacted my ability to maintain and commit to interpersonal relationships. Most relationships I’ve had with others have terminated abruptly and any relationships that are currently normal and quite happy are also very new. Any long term relationships that I’ve somehow managed to sustain have definitely had extremely frictitious moments and have remained intact only with extreme patience and forgiveness on their part.
The reason behind all of this seems to be the “hurt them before they hurt you” approach my brain has adopted. The bold assumption that, at some point, all the people I have connections with in my life will end up leaving me sets the foundation for actions I might take following these suffocating feelings. It will usually go one of two ways. I will sit with these made up but intense feelings of rejection for a long period of time only to redirect that as strong feelings of anger towards this person. Usually, this will result in an explosive episode where I say to the person things that I know will hurt them and hopefully have them hate me, forever. (Mind you, I never really have a full recollection of these episodes.) Or when the realisation that everyone will leave hits me in the moment, but I have no idea what I must have done to upset them to make them leave, I will intentionally do something that I know will make them angry as if attempting to provide a reason for them to hate me.
Honestly, this all seems quite contradictory- if you don’t want them to leave you, why do you keep hurting them? I promise you, if I knew why I would tell you. Unfortunately, I don’t. I would assume it’s the result of some form of previously unprocessed trauma that has led you to have difficulties in certain cognitive processing. However, though this is all still a big mystery to me, I do plan on doing my research and contacting people that can help me understand and start healing thereafter.
One big self-care tip I would advise, however, is to be kind and forgiving with yourself (something I could also do more of, let’s be honest). Fuck-ups happen, everybody makes them. It’s definitely not an excuse to repeatedly hurt people who love you and we must take responsibility for our healing so as to prevent similar events from occurring. However, in the words of Black Widow “don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.” You’re more than what you do at your worst. What actually defines you is what you do to be the best version of yourself. So do me a favour and don’t give up on yourself. Be kind and be forgiving.
Since the rise of COVID the majority of us have been lucky enough to have a home allowing us to continue living a normal and healthy life during this trying time. However as the days pass we find ourselves, more often than not, alone with our own thoughts which can sometimes lead us to experience negative emotions in a more intense and heightened fashion.
Having suffered low moods on and off for some time, the lockdown has proven to be quite difficult without the usual distractions of going out, attending lectures and meeting friends. During pre-lockdown times, this would have been sufficient means to increase levels of dopamine and keep me going or even avoid dealing with an underlying negative mood. It can worsen to the point that “normal lockdown-activities” are no longer as enjoyable as they initially were such as baking, organising, studying and zoom calls with friends. The lack of a normal pre-lockdown life also means that there is less encouragement to leave your bed in the mornings and resume a productive routine. And so begins the cycle. The lack of productivity will reinforce these negative thoughts and emotions. Levels of self-doubt will sky rocket, eventually forcing you into feeling quite helpless.
As always, when there’s dark cloud glooming over us, we should attempt to find a silver-lining of sorts. Experiencing our emotions constantly and intensely may be quite new to some of us, but at least we’re finally acknowledging them and taking the first step towards our healing. Though we have a lack of control over how we may feel on a day to day basis, we can still control how we respond to those emotions.
When things are getting quite tough, be kind to yourself as you would be to a friend or family member. Congratulate yourself on the small things like waking up, taking a shower or just simply getting through the day. It’s important to be mindful to about how you are doing on a daily basis and treat yourself accordingly. Not every day has to be 100% productive but everyday could involve at least one task of self-care. These tasks don’t have to complex or expensive, it can simply be taking a well-deserved midday nap!
The one kind thing you do for yourself today could lead you to feel just that much more loved than you were feeling this morning. Be loving and affectionate with yourself – not just to carry you through quarantine, but because you deserve it.
I’m back!!! After a 2 year hiatus and a pandemic, I’ve decided that there is no better time for me to return to blogging. I can’t wait to share all the weird, exciting, and not-so-exciting stories with you, the ups and the downs – the whole lot, basically. So get yourselves ready, and watch this space.
For the few followers of my blog, all of whom I am incredibly grateful for – you may have noticed that I stopped writing for almost 3 months. You may also be wondering why. When I started this blog, I aimed to write something at least every week, and I think I did pretty well (apart from the time I was severely unwell and overdosed). Writing has always been a great way for me to de-clutter my thoughts, rationalise my ideas and to release some emotion whilst attempting to help somebody out there. Before my blog, I wrote in my diary almost religiously from the age of about 10, and it did wonders to help me deal with a lot of things I was experiencing. But from time to time, I lose momentum and stop writing for months at a time.
The main reason I usually do that is because I want to do all I can to run away from my thoughts and feelings, rather than try to understand them. We’ve all probably experienced it – it’s when you have so much on your plate that even thinking about a problem, or facing an issue becomes too emotionally draining. Rather than feeling relieved, I start to feel extremely upset. So that turns me away from writing and I go into my “pretend-everything-is-fine” mode. There are pros and cons of this of course. On the one hand, I am able to give myself a false sense of security that everything is fine when it is in fact very far from fine. But on the other hand, pushing things to the back of your mind also causes it to build up slowly over time, until you eventually burst. That part isn’t really too fun.
Also, for the past few months, life happened – I had all my exams to do but with zero concentration and hypersomnia (excessive sleeping) as side effects of my medication; family troubles; financial struggles; friendship struggles; rejections from job interviews; yet another rejection from a romantic interest (I might tell you about these one day, should you be interested); my rejections of romantic interests in me (life is funny) – you name it. Everything happened at once. And obviously that meant my mental health was at an all time low again with my anxiety levels sky high and the return of suicidal thoughts. Wa-hey.
However, I can happily say that some of those things mentioned above have improved since. For example, I somehow managed to pass third year and am going into my fourth year of medical school in a few months’ time (yay!). Also, amongst the thousands of rejections, I did manage to find a short part-time job to give me a financial boost. And my anxiety levels are generally lower, though I’m still struggling with them immensely even now that most of the external factors are gone.
It has literally taken me 3 weeks to convert my thought of wanting to write again, to actually writing again, despite having plenty of time to do so. So you can imagine to what extent my motivation is lacking. I’ve also become very bad at remembering to take my medication which really messes me up because I keep switching from insomnia to hypersomnia and also gives me nightmares. My moods are also all over the place. It’s all a bit dishevelled really but I’m hoping that this will all change with a bit of positive thinking.
***Just to start off with, I sincerely apologise for my lack of posts recently – I have been quite overwhelmed with some personal issues as well as exam stress, but I’m back again!***
Being a medic at one of the UK’s top universities, the competition to do extremely well in everything I attempt to has unintentionally become quite destructive to my mental health. And it’s not only me – my peers and colleagues at medical school are most definitely guilty of having perfectionist personalities, having all attained full sets of perfect A* grades in their exams prior to coming to medical school. It’s because getting into medical school is such a difficult feat that participating in the competition to get a place shapes you into becoming unrealistically high-achievers.
Don’t get me wrong – there is nothing wrong with being a high-achiever. In fact, it is extremely admirable because so few people have the determination to do well and keep pursuing their ambitions. But there is a fine line between pushing yourself towards your goals and beating yourself up for not achieving an unrealistic target. And that’s what I wanted to talk about today – the ‘imperfection’ of perfectionism.
Perfectionism is defined as the ‘refusal to accept any standard short of perfection’. This could be with regards to any aspect of life, be it grades and academics, the way you tidy your clothes or the way your body looks. Though it is probably not completely environmentally caused, there is a significant amount of external influence in setting up these mindsets amongst ourselves. From parental influence, to peer pressure and social media, the journey to achieve perfection can become an obsession.
But why is it a bad thing? Surely if you have A*s in all your exams, are meticulously organised and can brag about a size zero body, you’d be the happiest person in the world, right? Wrong. Here’s a diagram to help explain what happens to perfectionists:
When our goals are attainable, perfectionism isn’t so much of a problem. For example, if I wanted to go up a grade in a subject in a year’s time, that might be a realistic goal provided I put in the work. When our goals are unattainable however, or just unrealistic given the timescale and effort we are able to give, perfectionism can make us criticise ourselves for not having achieved what we wanted to. As the cycle above shows, when an unrealistic self-expectation is not achieved, we fall into a spiral of self-blame which reduces our motivation (as we start asking ourselves “what’s the point of trying if I can’t do well?”) and therefore our productivity. After a while, we set ourselves another set of unrealistic goals towards which we start forcing ourselves to work, and the cycle goes on.
I never really thought much of my perfectionist nature until I got to medical school. It never really did me any harm before because, as obnoxious as it may sound, I managed to achieve the goals I set myself with regards to academics. I had perfect grades and got into all the medical schools I applied to. In short, I hadn’t really experienced “failure”. When you get to medical school, the cohort of students you are ‘competing against’ in the end of year exams are incredibly intelligent with an average IQ far exceeding the norm. In conditions like these, it is almost impossible for most students to achieve the >95% they expect of themselves in the exams. I went from getting these high grades in school and sixth form to just about scraping a 40% pass in my exams. Whilst many might say that it’s not too much of a big deal since I did manage to pass, there was no way I could convince myself that it was good enough. And I am not alone in feeling this way – the majority of students in medical school experience the same drop in grades. And it does damage our self-esteems.
For me, the external influence was always my parents. Being of Asian origin, I had the stereotypical parents who would scold me for “only getting 98% in my maths test” whilst growing up. But once I got into medical school, they became incredibly relaxed and told me that I didn’t need to worry about my grades anymore, and if I failed an exam I could always re-sit it in the summer. Whilst this was a strange feeling and should have liberated me, I was so habituated to getting 100% that I couldn’t cope with the idea of not being the best. So when I didn’t do as well as I wanted to, I felt really really useless. I felt as if I wasn’t good enough for medical school (even though I did get a comfortable pass) and that there was no point in me trying. In short, it made me extremely unhappy.
It was from then on that I realised that I needed to stop trying to be perfect all the time and be happy with trying my best, because that’s all I could really do. So instead of shutting myself up and constantly working, I decided to lay back a bit more and enjoy myself. It’s all about finding the right balance and not comparing yourself to the people around you because we’re all different. Sure, it takes a long time to mentally accept that, but when you do, you really do find happiness in yourself.
So let’s stop pursuing perfection, when there really isn’t anything perfect about it to begin with.
Suffering from anxiety, I often have to take a step back and assess whether I am overreacting to a situation or if my worries are justified. And taking that step back is difficult because I usually don’t know if I am simply ‘reacting’ to a situation or if it would be classified as potentially overreacting. It’s a thin line, and not an easy one to distinguish. What makes it all the more difficult is that the act of overreacting is very subjective. What’s normal for one person, may not be so normal for another person. For me, I hate to be perceived as having overreacted to something, so I usually have to check in with the people around me.
It was a lot easier when I had the opportunity to discuss issues on a regular basis with my counsellor. She usually put things into perspective for me from a more objective viewpoint and that made it easier for me to know if I was overreacting or not.
Since having finished my counselling sessions, things are a lot more difficult as there isn’t just the one person I can check in with. Now, I usually have to ask my family and friends about their opinions on the situation, and I usually gather a range of different viewpoints and make my assessment. If the majority says that I am justified to react in a certain way, then I usually go with the majority and vice versa.
However, my fear of overreacting has led to situations where I possibly haven’t reacted enough. These situations normally involve reacting to behaviour that makes me uncomfortable. As you can read on a previous post, I had trouble dealing with sexual abuse as a child and my fear of falsely raising an alarm overrode my instinct to seek help. Similarly now, I have come across a few individuals over my time at medical school who have made me feel uncomfortable but I wasn’t sure if it was significant enough to raise an alarm. The last thing I want to be is ‘the boy who cried wolf’.
One of these individuals was an older medical student who made me feel uncomfortable within minutes of meeting him by displaying quite controlling and intense behaviour towards me. I felt uncomfortable as he summoned me with a beckoning gesture, after which he expressed his desire to marry soon; a desperate bachelor. The closeness with which he was standing next to me also made me very anxious, almost as if I was trapped. In my head, alarm bells were ringing but when I mentioned this individual with a few friends, some told me that there was no reason for me to be scared of him, whilst others asked me, “Why didn’t you just slap him around the face?” It’s in situations like these when I still struggle.
Another similar situation which occurred more recently involved somebody from my year who I met on my medical placement at hospital. He showed an interest in me, and we started joking with each other within a few hours of knowing each other. He ended up asking for my Facebook details, and after we parted that day, he immediately started messaging me on Facebook. A few messages in, he asked for my Snapchat, which I gave, but I got the feeling that he was moving a little fast, considering I had only met him that day. The messages then continued on Snapchat all the way until a good night message. The next time I met him, he ended up divulging very private details about himself and his family, which I would personally only divulge to someone when I trusted them implicitly, e.g. a very close friend. He started to make jokes that made me uncomfortable like saying he’d steal my duvet from my room when he felt cold at night, and so on. The messages continued and I felt quite overwhelmed at this point. I received a phone call from a relative and he was still messaging me but I didn’t reply. After I finished the phone call, I saw that he’d already started apologising to me for unintentionally doing something wrong as I hadn’t been replying. I was a bit surprised, but still unsure whether this was all normal. I talked about this to a few friends. Some of my friends joked about it, saying he was clearly seeking more than friendship, but my best friend got worried and told me to be careful in case he was a stalker. This definitely made me anxious. I contacted another friend, telling him about the situation and that I was starting to feel creeped out, and when I told him who it was, my friend laughed it off and said I didn’t need to worry as he was pretty sure the boy was gay. I felt a bit stupid at that point for making such a big fuss, but I don’t feel as if it was completely unjustified for me to have felt overwhelmed and scared.
So what have I learnt from all of this? It is definitely worth taking a step back to assess if you’re overreacting but at the same time, there’s nothing more reliable than our instincts. It’s always better to be safe than sorry, so the best thing to do is to react when your alarm bells are ringing. If you overreact, then you look stupid of course. But if you don’t overreact and things are as bad as they seem, the consequences may be even more grave unfortunately.
Most of these days, I am struggling to understand whether I am just feeling paranoid or if my suspicions are justified. It may be closely linked with my anxiety, and my constant fear of losing people around me but my question is, how do I know for sure if I’m right?
My paranoia has affected my friendships before, and on reflection, I feel I misinterpreted their preoccupation with their work for indifference towards me and I ended up confronting them accusingly which brought about a great deal of friction between us. When I discussed situations like these with my counsellor last year, she had advised me that if I feel suspicious, the best thing to do is to ask openly without letting the suspicion brew in my mind. So, for example, if my friend hasn’t answered my text in a while and I feel she is ignoring me, it might be worthwhile dropping her a message to say, “Hey, I haven’t heard back from you in a while, is everything ok?” Or even if that doesn’t solve it then something as direct as, “Hey, I’ve kind of got the feeling that you’ve been ignoring me – have I upset you somehow?” And in fact, doing this has helped to sort out my suspicions and worries. What’s helped more is being open with my friends about my paranoia and letting them know that I might have to ask them directly if we’re still ok, and they’ve all been extremely understanding about it.
However, my more recent difficulties have been with my parents. Sometimes I feel as if they are upset or angry with me and when I ask them directly, they pass it off as being busy or tired. Having always been especially close to my Mum, I often feel that she becomes a little cold with me. It could obviously be because she is stressed out, but I really just don’t know. I then feel as if she’s lying to me when I ask her directly about it, just to avoid confrontation.
Another constant suspicion I have is that my parents are talking about me behind my back. I’ve tried eavesdropping but I’ve never heard anything of that sort, but whenever I see them talking quietly to each other, I feel as if they’re saying things about me. It could be completely unfounded of course, but I can’t help but feel paranoid.
When I think about where these paranoias stem from psychologically, I feel as if they are strongly related to my low self-esteem and my desire to always please people around me, which makes it difficult for me to face criticism. Maybe, if I can work on these aspects a little more, the paranoia may weaken because it would simply not matter to me what people are thinking or saying about me. I’m not sure at this moment as to how I’m going to go about doing that, but it’s worth thinking about.
It can be the loneliest feeling when no one understands you, how you’re feeling and what you really want. You can be surrounded by all the people in the world, but when no one understands you, you feel as if you are indeed alone.
This is something that I have difficulty coping with most days. When I am feeling low and I come back home after a long day, I don’t have the energy to converse with my family or give them the ‘quality time’ that they want. It means I’m quieter than usual but often my family members mistake that for me being reclusive and I am suspected of ‘hiding’ something from them. When they ask me “What’s wrong?” and I respond saying that nothing is wrong but I am just tired, they often don’t believe me. And not having someone believe me is the most frustrating thing.
Recently, I have been making an effort to attend all my scheduled teaching at placements and also to participate in extra teaching from older years in preparation for my upcoming OSCEs (a viva exam for medical students). I am also taking part in some extra-curricular activities this term to keep my spirits up, which means that I am home for very little time. My parents misunderstand this for me trying to avoid them, but I really do all of this to make myself feel productive and keep myself distracted from my low moods. It has been helping, and even if I feel unwell, I force myself to go because once I break the pattern, it can become so easy to give up and not go in the next week, and the next, etc. Unfortunately, my parents don’t seem to understand this and rather than encouraging me, I receive a lot of discouragement, especially for non-academically related events, which they don’t see the point of.
So what can I do in this situation? It really upsets me when the people closest to me fail to understand me, but at the same time no one can fully understand you, except for yourself. So I think acceptance of this fact is key. I try to accept that I can’t expect to be understood all the time, so sometimes I just have to deal with it and go on as I must. When I used to receive counselling, my counsellor really helped to put things into perspective for me, which was certainly liberating and empowering. However, now that my sessions with her have ended, I try to envisage what she would have said to me, and I try to assess my situation with as objective a view as possible. It is extremely difficult for me to do, but it is doable.
Other things I have tried in the past include keeping a diary of my thoughts, especially at times when I felt the loneliest. Of course there was no response from the diary, but it felt good to get my feelings out and it gave me the impression that I was talking to someone who was listening. And that was enough to make a difference.
We all feel the need to be heard sometimes. It is simply human nature. Talking to the people around us can help of course, especially if they are willing to listen and understand, but in the instances they are not, there are other ways to cope.
Most days, I don’t feel like I have the energy or motivation to do anything but curl up on my sofa, binge-watch trashy TV and mindlessly munch on processed junk until I fall asleep and the cycle repeats itself. So when I went to my first CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) session a few months ago and the therapist suggested I engage in enjoyable activities and rekindle my hobbies, I honestly thought, “what rubbish”. I felt so drained of energy that even getting to the CBT session in my pyjamas was an achievement for me.
My turning point was definitely in the weeks following my suicide attempt. After seeing the effect that it had on my family and friends, I was determined to get better and get out of the vicious cycle of depression I was stuck in. I decided that even if I felt life was not worth living for me, it was definitely worth living life for those who loved me. And yes, I knew life was not going to be all flowery – in fact, ever since my attempt in November, things have most definitely not been going my way or in my favour – but it was worth going on for the few minutes that I made my baby sister smile, or for the moments I spent cradled in my mother’s arms, or for the times that my friends tried cheering me up with their banter. So I decided that it was time for me to start getting up from that sofa. It was going to be anything but easy, but with the support from friends and family, I could do it.
The first thing I decided to do was to try and rekindle my hobbies as my therapist had suggested long ago. For me, art and singing have always been my favourite activities – they were both hobbies I’d pretty much given up on because I didn’t feel as if I had the willpower or motivation to do them. So I decided to audition for a singing part at a society-run university play (which required much support and encouragement from a good friend of mine) and ended up getting the part. I also decided to get back into sketching and painting which, I have to say, has been INCREDIBLY effective at providing me with a productive form of distraction when I’m feeling low.
On days that I feel extremely depressed, time doesn’t seem to pass. It’s difficult for me to pick up a pencil or to practice my singing, but once I start, it gets easier and easier. It gives me something to focus on, and I don’t even realise how quickly time flies. Sure, right now it doesn’t really help with my procrastination issue, but one step at a time. The logic is that if our daily average enjoyment levels increase to a sustainable degree, then motivation also increases and the possibility of achievement does too.
It’s always difficult to take the first step, and progress is not nearly as quick as we’d like, but I guess every little helps. I’m not back to my extra-motivated, focused, organised, efficient self yet (nowhere near it, in fact), but at least I’m spending a little less time moping on my sofa staring at the TV screen. And maybe one day, I’ll even be able to get back to being productive with my work and feel more of a sense of achievement.
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about the things that matter” ~ Martin Luther King Junior
A lot of people become astounded by the courage I show in day-to-day situations, for example speaking up in front of a crowd, challenging a senior or asking the questions that everyone is too afraid to ask. There is of course always the right time to say or do things and too much courage may be overstepping into sheer foolishness, but more often than not, speaking your mind has countless positive effects.
Since being the bullied child at primary school, I have grown to appreciate the importance of speaking up against what I feel is wrong. Whether this means I am confronting my peers, friends, family or seniors, it makes no difference to me. It is imperative that we all stand for what we believe in and being too afraid to speak up for ourselves, or the people around us only makes us just as bad as the perpetrators for standing by and doing nothing to stop it. Of course, direct confrontation is not always the wisest way to approach situations, but something like writing a strong letter, taking part in protests or addressing petitions to the right people can make a big difference. People who prefer to suffer and are afraid to speak up often say that they would much rather ‘avoid conflict’ and cope with the situation. However, adapting to injustice never really solves the problem. Be it an issue in the workplace or challenges in personal relationships, having open conversations and asserting your viewpoint only increases one’s self-respect and demonstrates to others that they cannot get away with maltreating you.
Initially, the consequences of speaking up may well be negative and result in unfavourable situations in the meantime, but in the long-term, the results are completely worth it. Dissonance, antagonisation, intimidation are some examples of the negative reactions to speaking up. It is important to plough through these temporary difficulties, keeping the main objective in mind, and before you know it, the positive changes will arrive.
Aside from the workplace, I also find it beneficial to be very upfront about my concerns in my personal relationships. Rather than spend long periods of time wondering what other people are thinking, I save myself the torture and pluck up the courage to just ask. Sure, the answer is not always what I like to hear, but on reflection, it really does help me to work forwards and solve any conflicts or misunderstandings.
What is more challenging however, is being assertive around the people closest to you. This is something that I had been struggling with for a while, especially with my own family members. I found it relatively easy to deal with people I was not so much emotionally attached to, but when it came to my parents, or my siblings, I found it difficult to voice my opinions and usually resorted to bending to their wishes. In the long-term it had an extremely negative effect on my well-being and satisfaction in life. Through counselling sessions, I was able to learn that there was a difference between being assertive and being confrontational and I was able to voice my opinions in such a way that I was simultaneously sensitive to the feelings of the people around me. It is a difficult skill to master but it has worked wonders for me.
I feel a lot more free being able to do the things I want whilst also not hurting the people around me. I feel as if I have greater control over my life, and you know what? I feel so much happier.
So speak up, and get your voices heard. You’ll be one step closer to changing things for the better.