I am fundraising for Beat, the UK's eating disorder charity. Beat supports anyone with an eating disorder, their friends and family, as well as professionals working with or worried about an individual in their care.

Stumbling across the marvel that is Jenny Lawson’s book Furiously Happy and learning about the idea of a “sea of silver ribbons” led to my decision to start The Silver Ribbon Project. I hope to remind everyone that we are not alone in this fight, to prove that there is an army of people celebrating every tiny victory. I want to remind us all that there are people reaching down to help, hands to hold each step of the way, and hundreds of voices shouting out in the dark “I am with you” “I feel this too” “things will change” . Most of all, I want to be able to spot a silver ribbon on a random Thursday morning at the corner shop when I have crawled out of bed to finally brave getting more cat food and know that I have found an ally, a reminder that I am not alone. None of us are.

PLEASE DONATE AND HELP ME BUILD A SEA OF SILVER. You can donate just to support, or contact me @meekocrafts or M33koCrafts@gmail.com to receive a ribbon

Why did you decide to start the Silver Ribbon Project?

For quite a while now I have struggled with my mental health. I have been given all sorts of labels, had more meetings with professionals than I can count and have been in and out of hospitals, day clinics and treatment in general. Each time is a little different; different challenges to overcome; different support to help; different tools learnt to cope with this rocky road that is life. But there are always three constants:

When things get bad I always find myself in a pit, inexplicably lonely, hopeless and broken. And when I am down there all feels lost. At the top is a world of missed deadlines, dirty washing, broken commitments, a world to prove that I am a bad person. My brain convinces me that nothing can change and that I would be better to suffer in silence or give up entirely. This is a lie, but it never feels like it.

Next, my brain frames this pit as a shameful secret, a guilty weakness to be hidden. I tell myself that I must hide from others, that if I told them the truth they would look down on me, see nothing but the broken parts of me, or perhaps worse of all tell me “that it’s all in my head” and if I would “just try x, y or z,” things would fix themselves. My brain also likes to insist that there are others in “real” pits- that they are the ones deserving of help- that my struggle is a pretence. I am overwhelmed with anxiety around others' reactions if I were to ask for the support I so desperately want. Far too often the anxiety wins, I stay silent, and things get worse.

Then, eventually, I talk to others who struggle, I find the guts to tell my friends and family the truth and things begin to change. I have met so many others in the depths who help to bring back a little of that light. The fellow fighters I find when I shout out show me that I am not alone. We form an army and begin to climb, sometimes with the help of ropes passed down by outsiders, sometimes with only each other to provide a leg boost. We show each other the good handholds, remind each other of the light to come. We are an emotional storm of tears and laughs because WE ARE NOT ALONE.