Being Vegan Sucks

Yes, you heard me right, (or read me right?). I hate being a 'vegan'.

So why don't I go eat a bacon sandwich, you ask? Well, here's the thing.

I DON'T WANT TO EAT ANIMAL PRODUCTS. That's it really. I choose to not eat meat or dairy. It makes me feel healthier. And I love animals.

I wrote my dissertation on 'veganism', promoted the lifestyle and justified it using all the evidential support I could gather. I watched the documentaries, read the books, scoured the internet for facts. I learned the horrific truth, and now there's no way I can ignore it.

I don't preach. I don't care if you love steak, that's your prerogative, as this is mine. But I am so sick of being chastised because of the way I choose to eat. I don't judge your dietary habits, so why are you judging mine?

People ask questions; they're curious, naturally. What do vegans eat - they ask. Well, the answer to that is everything, bar flesh and dairy products. It really isn't that hard, otherwise we wouldn't do it.

I like the vegan community - some of them are militant which drives people away - but most of them are kind and caring souls, similar to myself. I choose to eat this way for compassion, for both animal and humankind.

The contradictions I see every day in meat-eaters enrage me. They despise animal cruelty, but don't think about it when buying cosmetics. They sign petitions to stop the Yulin dog-meat festival, yet sit there eating a ham sandwich whilst doing so. Where's the line? Why choose to care about some animals and not others? That's just my stance on it. But I don't call them out. I keep my mouth shut - I lock my opinions away, because it's the polite and correct thing to do. I'll answer truthfully - if I am asked. Otherwise, I stand by the phrase 'live and let live'. So why can't the rest of you let me live?

I'm sick of being painted with a vegan brush, labelled and almost excluded from this 'normality' that is meat-eating. So much so that I almost want to rebuke the label of 'vegan'. How sad is that?

If I simply said I had a lactose intolerance and an allergy to meat, no one would care. I would seldom be plagued with questions because it would be deemed intrusive and rude. I might be pitied for not being able to eat bacon, but I certainly wouldn't be asked question after question about my diet. So why is it that when the word 'vegan' comes into the equation, people think they're entitled to start plaguing me?

Please stop asking me ridiculous questions. I don't miss bacon, or any meat for that matter. I like vegetables, I eat plenty of protein, and no, I am not malnourished. I'm drinking a cappuccino, about to eat a packet of crisps. Surprisingly, crisps, which are made from potatoes can be vegan too. It's almost like it's a vegetable or something.

Running Away from Cancer

I have reached a dead end. Late nights, early mornings, too much coffee, not enough sleep. My light is faltering. I'm neglecting myself, pushing my mind to the limit, to distract myself from the reality.

My Dad has cancer. He's very unwell, and my life is changing in a way that I am struggling to comprehend. My Mum has only just recovered from cancer herself, and I really struggled during that time.

My health and fitness has declined, along with my mental health. It's time for me to slowly take back the reins of my own life, and empower myself.

Me being me, I like to challenge myself in the most ridiculous ways possible. So... I have decided to run the London marathon.

With the inspiration from my parents illness, and the urge to better myself, I feel that this challenge will push my every limit, and give me the answers that I need. At present, I'm looking for answers in places that will never give me any. I'm abusing myself with excess.

Time to heal.

Discovering Yoga

Namaste everyone.

Things have been pretty hectic lately - I've just moved to a new place in London, and I'm beginning a new full time job at the end of the month, which means I can start saving for travelling!!

All this has left me stressed and feeling very unlike my usual self. I suffer with depression and to be honest, it's been getting to me. I forget that it's literally an imbalance in my head, not just me being moody. It's difficult, and I get really hard on myself. So I search for a solution, and I found yoga.

I've tried yoga before of course, and it's beautiful. But I never practice regularly.

It was beautifully sunny outside, probably the last real day of summer, and I still felt strange. Armed with 4 yoga magazines, I stepped outside, completely naked, and did something I never really do. Sat down on the grass and closed my eyes. I listened to all the noise around me, the cars, birds, the occasional plane. I felt the grass between my fingers (and bum cheeks). I was so present in this moment, and it felt amazing.

Slowly, I began to hold some yoga poses from the magazines I had placed in front of me. They were moderately challenging; I could hold most of them, but not for too long. This yoga session felt different though. It wasn't just exercise or stretching, but a real spiritual experience ,that somehow calmed me thoroughly. I felt peaceful.

Since that yoga session a few days ago, my chakras feel more realigned. I feel that I am behaving better in myself and managing my own though cycles better. All thanks to yoga.

I will definitely be doing it more. The joy and peace I get is second to only meditation. If only the rest of the world could slow down a little more, maybe we'd all feel more peace.

Namaste.

London life = the best life

The air tastes sweeter in my favourite places. Summer tastes like the dewdrops on grass in my garden, but London still somehow tastes free. Despite the grey, the pollution, the swirls of graffiti like tattoos across the buildings, London sets me free.

Pangs of excitement surge through me as I weave through Waterloo station, sipping my soy cappuccino through a satisfied smile. I have been here before. I have walked through London many times. Stations, landmarks, tourist areas, all the way through the multi-coloured flags of Soho, past the golds and reds in Chinatown, bumping into tourists as I meander along the river. 

The familiar Starbucks on every corner, like a beacon of energy reminding me to prolong sleep as long as possible - London is awake, and I should be too. 

A weather proof city that looks as beautiful in autumnal sunsets as it does during the vicious December wind. Even the naked trees with their clawed branches greet me. 

I read 'if you're tired of London, you're tired of life'. 

Maybe the answer to being tired isn't always sleep. Instead of closing your eyes, try opening them a bit more, let them really see what's in front of you. I think that's the reason why I love London so much. You can't not see it. 

This multicoloured, multicultural, beautifully hideous city feels like home, because it will accommodate you, whoever you are. Maybe that's why we all love it so much.