Finding Nemo

Just before I went off to uni my wonderful younger sisters gave me a stuffed toy – a giant Nemo teddy that came in handy when I did my whole Jesus fancy dress bit!

Right now I bet you are wondering what a stuffed animal has to do with mental health, is this some sort of fluffy, public breakdown that I’m having? Worry not dear reader, this is simply another tale from the archives!

I got way into my own head one day, as I lay in my bed despairing at my mental state, I got angry at how low I felt, regardless of not really having a reason to feel that way. This led me into that usual viscous hurricane of misery, the lower my mood state became the more depressed and frustrated I became in the morning.

Now this little orange fishy was beginning to look a little tatty, its seam was starting to come apart and fluff exposed. I grew so frustrated and anxious at what might happen if I couldn’t ‘snap-out’ of it that I ripped open those holes and started to throw the innards around.

Yes, it was I who killed Nemo, the much loved animated critter which was given to me by two 5 year olds, I feel so evil right now.

It was something of a manic period that left me feeling a little better, there was this wrinkled up skin of an orange fish just lying there helplessly on my bedroom floor. Only when I came away from this mania a few hours later did I become remorseful and realised what I had done.

I think this Disney themed homicide stemmed from a simple inability to express how I was feeling effectively, I had woken up alone that day, no initiative to get out of bed and I was left questioning what I had done to deserve this low mood.

I’m glad to say that Nemo is the only thing I broke whilst feeling low, more out of a resistance to self-harm, I didn’t want to head down that road. I feel sorry for Nemo, but in the grand scheme of things, perhaps I was just making more room in bed!

Remember guys – Fish are Friends, not food.

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