When I was a toddler -toddling – chicken little played a massive part of my life (nursery was da bomb right?!). The story was entertaining but I didn’t get it; not surprising really a three year old who can just about control her bowel didn’t fully comprehend the story.
I didn’t get chicken little until I turned 18 when I realised that my life was imploding and my ‘sky’ was falling. Seven years later, it is still falling. At first I thought I was in the midst of teenage angst: I’d just finished my A-Levels (which I, hand on heart, thought were going to kill me) and was heading to university. I was anxious and confused and let myself be swept up in life, little did I know this was the beginning of my experience of depression. Continue reading