Wattpad

Hey all,

I’ve decided to post my full story on wattpad, thank you for the two people who convinced me too they know who they are 😉.

So if you’re interested I will be posting weekly! starting from next week. I haven’t chosen which day since I may be getting a Job soon my routine will be based around my schedule.

Follow @SimplyMessyMind or my story is called ‘The Castles Unspoken Secrets’

If you don’t know what it is about I would recommend finding my two other posts, they are simplified versions of what’s in the chapters. Otherwise here’s the blurb.

From supernatural to love this story follows a girl named Ivory Shaw, who has lost her parents and can no longer stay with her aunty. Arriving at her new boarding school, with new friends and a potential love interest, Ivory won’t be able to tell what is real anymore.

Thank you!!!

if you have any questions follow my socials or email me

Snapchat: amazingemma48

Instagram: simplymessymind

email: emma@simplymessymind.com

The Castles Unspoken Secrets 🏰

A story in the making, created by me. This chapter is called Carriage

I place myself in chair 24, almost identical to the rest on this train but mine was lose. It squeaks like a mouse caught in a trap. As i settle myself down I hear a man asking for help, I perk my head up and leaned over to see if he was ok. No one was helping, not even acknowledging his existence right infront of them.

I stopped what ever I was doing to create my comfort and got up to help the man. Due to my analysis of him he looks to be in his late 40’s early 50’s, he was tall with very broad shoulders, his hair softly spiked up, out of his face with a silver tint. His eyes were hazel, mainly a light brown but with specks of emerald green.

I approached this man kindly “would you like me to help you sir?” I reach my hand out for his ticked to see if I could find his seat. His eyes admired me, his smirk of thanks spoke with out moving his lips. The man hands me his ticked “oh seat 33 that’s two rows behind mine!”

The man places his bag down in his seat and turns to me and said “thank you,” I nodded and I walk back to my seat a voice so rich and jovial was no more. He grabbed my arm so tight his nails could’ve carved into my bone “I said thank you,” He pulls me back towards him his voice now inhumane, a hybrid of human and animal. His eyes were not longer admiring me, pupils so small he could’ve been looking directly into the sun, the colour had changed to copper gold. The mans smile was no longer there, his mouth half open, his teeth enlarged.

I started to panic, I tried to mask it so he wouldn’t notice, my heart pounding so fast it starts to ache, my hands and feet creating puddles within themselves. The man had a strong grip, ‘will he let me go?’ I question myself. Thoughts going faster than a bullet train one after the other. I yanked my arm and dashed into my seat.

Letting out my breaths into the cold train air I had to take a moment to rethink what had happened, if it happened!? I look at my arm. No markings but it hurt as if it did. I had to look back, what if i quickly took a nap and that was a dream. It definitely was not a dream. I peaked my head between the two chairs.

Those eyes sharpened, looking at me like I was his prey. He saw not a soul but an opportunity, and my question was ‘his opportunity for what?’ My head throbs, pulsing so strongly i start to feel my own blood flow throughout my body, his stare made me weak, made me anxious. I aggressively blink more than the average person should, my vision was blurry and circling. I could only just make out the drooling dripping from his lower lip, foam forming from his mouth, his teeth structure could almost be identical to a dogs.

I ended up passing out as the train jerked itself awake, it was all too much. I couldn’t comprehend what just happened but it wasn’t normal. My panic attack was so strong I collapsed in my chair.

Life update

I’ve been super busy, but at the same time I haven’t been doing anything.

There’s not a lot of creativity flowing through me to write, but I have so much to say. It’s even worse when I have to speak and write so carefully that no explosions of emotions come hitting me all at once by various people.

Although I have entered into an art competition… so that’s exciting, the piece I am drawing I did a couple of years ago but school doesn’t have it anymore so I think it’s a good time to grab some paper going back to my roots and draw.

I have also been given loads of opportunities to become an ambassador for over 9 companies, they vary from clothing, sunglasses, jewellery to bathbooms. I have accepted to as many as I can If you’d like to see or know more follow my instagram @emma.schimanski or my snapchat @amazingemma48.

I’ve also been house sitting for my mum which has been nice, she has a cat called Caius and a dog named Nala. They are both super cuddly and affectionate. Which I struggle with considering I’m allergic to both (dogs more than cats) but I miss my cat Fifi terribly. I think this is the longest I haven’t seen her.

Sorry for not uploading as much I’ve been busy doing everything and nothing for the past couple of weeks. I’ll update you on my artwork, or possibly write a scene from a story.

My question for you today is:

how has your week been?

Small businesses

Recently I have ordered from a shop called ONExLOVE, I’ve asked if I could interview about her and her work. This is to show appreciation to other companies and the hard work they put in.

How old are you and what do you do?

“I am 13!
I own a small business where I sell tons of new things such as embroidered items , screen printed items, hand made item, jewelry, etc..”

how long of a process was it to plan everything out and gathering your equipment?

“I have started this acc a year ago but for thrifting and just lost interest In that so it took me a few months to gather all the equipment!”

How to you manage school/home and work life?

“It’s really difficult but I always put school first and then mu small business. I try to be really focus but still take time for myself.”

what sparked the inspiration to make a small business?

“What sparked my inspiration were other small businesses on insta, and I really appreciated their hard work.”

Who helps you out the most (mum, dad, friends, etc)?

“I would say my mom helps me the most with dropping off my packages for me but my dad definitely helps me with advice and whenever I have a problem to fix , but I appreciate both of them and their help.”

how do you plan to grow/ what are you’re future ideas with you’re growing business?

“I plan to create more trendy pieces and handmade tops very soon!”

What has been the best part about it all?

“The best part has been encountering so many sweet friends and supporters!”

what has been the most difficult part about the business?

“The most difficult part has been able to balance school and work because it gets really overwhelming and stressful. It’s hard to find that good balance between both.”

Follow:

Instagram: @shoppnexlove

Website: https://www.onexlove.us

Tarot

what is it?

The tarot is a pack of playing cards, used from the mid-15th century in various parts of Europe to play, such as Italian Tarocchini, French Tarot and Austrian Königeufen, many which are still played today.

I’ve recently bought my own deck of tarot cards, The Antique Anatomy Tarot. It gives off very victorian era vibes, with its unique picture designs and colours. Each card has its own meaning, by shuffling and pulling out a couple of cards you can give a message (reading). obviously it’s a bit more complicated than that.

Since I know very little about tarot, over the past couple of days Ive put a lot of energy into writing down notes and learning about it. Today I was shuffling the deck, just simply putting my energy into the cards. As I was doing that a card fell out. It was 8 of coins (pentacles) upright. Meaning: ‘you are working hard to improve your skills and become a master at what you do, and now you are applying sheer determination and concentration to master the new skill you are learning.’

I know…

Coincidence or not that singular card fell on my lap (literally). I’ve always wanted to be able to give readings or just connect closer to spirituality. As well I know crystals are also a good step to take, especially since I want to start my journey as a baby witch.

Now at this point you are either reading this thinking ‘wow she’s crazy, what drugs is she on’ or ‘ooo I want to learn more, and joing her journey.’ Simply either interesting or not. But I am starting a new journey, and I’m so excited to share anything I experience.

The Antique Anatomy Tarot, I got off of Esty, by Suzanne.

My question for you is: Are you more religious or spiritual?

Story By Image

Yesterday I asked my boyfriend to pick out a picture out from my search on safari ‘Photo prompt for writing’. The Image shown above was the one he chose so here is what I wrote. I did no drafts or planning I just wrote the first thing that came in mind.

Comfort In The Storm

It is my time. The fog comforts me, hugging me like it knew. I hold myself as the famous Henry Purcell – Dido’s Lament plays in my head. The song takes control as I roll my head to each beat, my neck and shoulders support me.

The air is damp, cold. Today the clouds sit upon the earth, as if they decided that the heavens were down here instead. The trees are veiled in the lightest of mist, their trunks sombre brown with sable cracks that gnarl the bark. As my eye travels to the edge of the woodland the trees become silhouettes against a blanket of white, as if it is only daylight where I stand, as if I am encircled by twilight.

If I lived any place other than right here, I would pine for these evergreen hills, this forest that has become a vital part of my soul. The pine forest has a time-machine aroma, everyday of the year, it is the very ether of my memories. The pine forest is a home to so many souls of creation and I feel so blessed to hear my heart beat among theirs.

I never let myself see my own fear, for it was ever a disadvantage in the place that I was raised. To cry was to be beaten and scoled. If I cried I’d be “given something to cry about.” The act of crying for my own pain was literally beaten out of me. Suppressed completely. Now decades later, it still is, yet channelled into my creativity, a sort of unwitting energy booster. What I cannot suppress though are these shivers that say I am afraid.

In that shiver was a moment of truth, a story of these emotions that no mask could ever hide.

I’ve always loved the thunder storms. I’ve always loved storm-could-grey. To see them swirling one last time in the heavens, brings a kind of inner glee. I reached up, bringing down a handful of that cosmic swirl, if I could make a fabric from it that was ever-changing as the sky above is right now, I’d wear it forever.

As the infinity cloud swirl levitates from my hand over my head, I feel it. The heavens. The clouds were a kind of grey that would make any quarry rock proud, as if they were so pleased beneath my feet, hidden between the grass they echo the earth. All of the grey, all that swirling, my vision became a blur, but I trusted this storm to take me where I need to go. The condensation was bound to happen sooner rather than later.

Comment your thoughts 🙂

Mental Health Part 3

OCD

An anxiety disorder characterized by uncontrollable, unwanted thoughts and ritualized, repetitive behaviours you feel compelled to perform.

Mine was worse when I needed to get ready for school in the morning. I had a specific routine, and if I for some reason did it out of order or I started it too late, well lets just say the manipulative thoughts would be scary.

My routine:

  • Wake up at 7:30am
  • look through phone for 5-10 minutes (answer messages)
  • do makeup
  • do hair
  • get changed

Now this may look like a small routine but if it wasn’t done properly so many thoughts would attack me, “do you really want everyone to die?, now that you didn’t do it you will slip over today killing yourself.” Like I said they were awful.

There was curb I would walk over every morning at school, if my right foot didn’t go over it properly or if my breathing was slightly off, my mind get ‘offended’ attacking me once again.

Yes I do have perfectionism as well, an overwhelming fear of making mistakes. An intense need for things to be “perfect” or “done right” may or may not be accompanied by a fear that harm will come to oneself or others if things are not done perfectly.

This one I’ve had since I was little, I had to clean my room because I’m the only one who knows where everything goes and if someone else cleans it I have an anxiety attack. My books have to be sorted in height order, regular pend and coloured ones have to be in separate draws. Just to name a few.

Some people think OCD is just perfectionism, everything needs to be in order and in perfect placement … Sadly that’s not the case, what they don’t know is the daily agony we suffer, basically self torture and it’s not a once a week occurrence.

Photo is from Pinterest by Guddi

My question for you today is have you experienced OCD?

Mental Health Part 5

Body Image

I always look at the girl in the mirror. I stare for too long that her face is distorted, her body so large on some parts others looks too small. She looks wrong. I rub my eyes only to look back now noticing every flaw she has. One eye is bigger than the other, her forehead is too big, now it’s too small, her calf muscles are bigger than her thighs. I jump on the scales 62.7kg I take a step back. Surely not, I step back on putting the weight on different parts of ky body sucking in my stomach to see 61.9kg… it’s better but it’s not good enough.

Growing up as a female I have found it so difficult to fit the beauty standards that at this point, I’ve just started to make fun of myself just to cope. One moment to look beautiful I need to have curves a big butt, big boobs, and tiny waist and legs. That night it could all change. Now i need to be flat chested, long legs, flat stomach. How am I supposed to love myself, when I’m constantly being watched my not only the media but everyone around me? How am I supposed to look at myself thinking “I am enough.”

It wasn’t until my younger teenage years that I started to look at myself differently. That in order to have friends, to have boys to like you back was to be pretty, was to be what everyone else wants you to be. I was made fun of, touched, and horribly describes all because of my looks. My body.

It hasn’t been till recently where I have felt comfortable within myself, not pressured by the peers at school, not to dress and look a certain way around family. I can finally breath. But All of that truma will forever sick with me, I will always have bad days some worse than others, I will always have the running voices in my head.

I will always seem narcissistic only because I am constantly looking at myself. To see if that distorted girl is looking back. To see if I can finally see who I am without the smudges and blurs. I still don’t know what I look like and maybe I’ll never find out.

I found the image on Pinterest I forgot who by.

My question to you is:

What is your favourite place to shop at? (can be in person or online)

Follow my socials for updates or to chat

Snapchat: amazingemma48

Instagram: simplymessymind

Wattpad: SimplyMessyMind

Email: emma@simplymessymind.com

Mental Health Part 4

Eating Disorder

It’s terrifying, not only to look at, but to be trapped by it.

Living with my dad I never really had nutritious foods, or anything that’ll keep a child interested in having food. Being in a blended family is hard enough. What’s even worse is boundaries with food.

Growing up my brother and I had a rule that school snacks should only last us a week and if we ate everything before the next shop we wouldn’t have any food.

Solid rule if I don’t say so myself. But having another family not following that rule getting food handed to them left right and center and only them, it was unfair.

My dad was not a cook and he never made the effort to, so our week of dinner foods were:

  • Monday- Ravioli
  • Tuesday- Tacos
  • Wednesday- Spaghetti Bolognese
  • Thursday- Take away night
  • Friday- Burgers
  • Saturday- Fried rice
  • Sunday- Sausages

over 4 years having these means every week I stopped eating dinner. I was never a breakfast person, in fact I’m still not. eventually all the school snacks were eaten in the house (not like we got anything good). So eventually I stopped eating not because I wanted to my body refused to have the same foods over and over again.

The only thing I was eating were watermelon flavoured chewing gum, and anything I could get off friends at school. I hated eating at school, my anxiety was so bad I would refuse to eat.

This was when i was 12-15. I chose to stay at my dads permanently but I couldn’t deal with being like this. I was sick everyday, so brittle, so fragile, I was sick every morning I couldn’t stomach anything down. So I decided to see my mum every second weekend.

This all came to an end when my dad kicked me out of home and I started living with my mum.

Another thing was body issues, I hated eating when I lived at my mums. There is one thing I’ll never forget that my mum once said to me. I tried on my dress for my year 12 ball dance we call a social, I already hated the dress but I walked out of my room, and showed my mum and she said “you might need to lose a little bit of weight around your stomach.” I kept my cool until i shut my door behind me in my room.

I didn’t want to eat anything and when I did I over ate. I was made fun of when I did exercise, I found it difficult because of my abnormal heart beat which effected my breathing and over all fitness. No one understood and it’s a family inside “joke” that I hate sports. I actually would love to get back into doing sports but I can’t I end up not breathing.

I still struggle till this day with eating. At times I will wake up in the evening and sleep all day just so I can skip meals. I have gotten a lot better than where I was 6 years ago.

Photo was found on Pinterest by flickr.com

My question for you is: “what is your favourite food/meal?”

Mental Health Part 2

Depression

You’ve heard the saying of everything being suffocating, being weighted down chained to the bed. Yes that is correct. But everyone deals with it differently.

I was diagnosed at the age of 13. I loved singing, drawing, going to school just normal hobbies. I can’t quite put a finger on what triggered my depression to start but it’s definitely passed down genetically. All of a sudden I stopped doing everything, the only thing I found enjoyment in was sleeping, pretending like I don’t exist.

The fake smile and happiness was exhausting but the most draining part was actually existing.

Having to wake up, lifting my weighted eyelids only to see the intense sunlight was torture. Having my brain to rewire as if I was a robot, learning how to move. Laying in bed on my side I was safe I was curled into a ball like an armadillo my shell being my blanket. Knowing what’s to happen, and how much energy I has to consist in order to be socially acceptable hurt my brain. What actually happened most was, I would over think every possible scenario that can happen in order to absolutely scare myself that I would throw up in fear and anxiety. That would be my excuse to stay at home. An excuse that would happen every morning before school.

My anxiety and depression are best friends like Kevin Heart and The Rock. My anxiety so small but it would laugh at me with its self deprecating jokes. MY depression so big and strong it weighs me down. Put both of them I’m a laughing stock to myself.

It didn’t help that my dad didn’t believe mental health exists and yet when he stayed at home he’d tell me that “he’s having a mental health day,” … yes I wish I was joking. I was so afraid to coming out of my room I became so sick very quickly.

When ever I was at my mum’s house I would make depressive jokes, even suicidal ones. She would tag along saying “oh stop it and get up,” I would laugh it off but inside I questioned wow would anyone even care if I just left?

At school I laughed a little less everyday but enough to make everyone not worry about me.

I’m not a selfish person at all I couldn’t care less what is happening to me so long as everyone else is having fun and is ok.

Which is a dangerous thing but I know how it feels to have no one when you’re about to leave everything.

I still struggle to this day keeping myself alive and existing. I only shower once a week but that’s if its a good week. I could easily go weeks without having a shower. Its so exhausting cleaning yourself, if you don’t understand you really have no say on how disgusting I am or it is. I’m a little better with cleaning, I clean about twice a week, it would get to a point where I’d start to panic about it.

Growing up having your mum threaten to clean your room if you don’t I get so paranoid. My room will come to a state and I could be doing anything and a trigger would set in and it’s almost like I panic clean. It’s nothing major but knowing that someone is going to come into my space not knowing where everything goes, I go into a head spin.

It’s like you’ve finish a project for school or work that you’ve put all of your time and energy into only to find it destroyed or have gone missing. Your natural instinct is to panic.

That’s how I feel.

Depression is so silent and suffocating one day you seem fine asking yourself ‘is it finally over? am I now free?’ only to find out that night or the next day that it never left it was there waiting fir you to feel vulnerable.

my depression took over me that I had to be put on medication to ease the strangulation, so I can finally take a breath.

Photo is from Pinterest by DeviantArt

My question for you is what do you do on your mental health days?