Navigating the mental health wave via a severe and unpredictable bout of depression and anxiety earlier this year is what made me finally take the (in my mind) humungous step of opening an Etsy shop. Contradictory, you might say, but it is realising the therapeutic qualities of embroidery and a need to at least attempt a different career path that continues to keep the debilitating thoughts at bay.

Making art and selling it is something i'd dreamed of many a time over the years but I had placed it high up on a pedestal as something unachievable for me. I didn't believe enough in the possibility and in my head I'd made it a mountain too steep to climb. I have always found embroidery incredibly cathartic and have used the process several times in the past as a way of lifting myself out of prolonged periods of depression. It is using my creativity and reminding myself of the things i'm good at that allows for that small glimmer of light to re-appear and eventually grow and become sustainable. After the derogatory insistence of monopolising voices inside my head telling me I was no better than staying in my bedroom, that I had nothing to offer anyone else, that this current state was now forever, the act of making objects with my own two hands - when on a marginally 'better' day I had managed to convince myself to get out of bed and dust off an unused sketchbook - served as ample reminder that I am worthy, am talented, and do have something to offer the world.

For a long, long time I had put myself in the way of the things I wanted but through finally seeking the help I needed (seeing a Doctor, starting therapy, reaching out to others) I now feel more confident, courageous and willing to take risks. For the first time since discovering a knack for textile design as a teenager, running my own business feels like something feasible.

And it's not just embroidery I'm getting at. Had I known a year ago that the more people I opened up to the smaller the burden would feel, that those around me (and those i'd convinced myself no longer were) wanted to share their love and support, well maybe i'd have begun this road to rehabilitation a long time ago. Perhaps the one thing that has helped me the most this year has been reading the accounts of others who have trudged through this murky swamp and climbed up the grassy bank to the other side. From Elizabeth Wurtzel in Prozac Nation to Matt Haig in Reasons to Stay Alive, to the personal and impassioned stories of others i've discovered on instagram, every account I've read has edged me a little closer to accepting the hand dealt to me, and I want to encourage others to do the same.

I believe wholeheartedly in the power of vulnerability and in each of us sharing our darkest moments with one another. Although shame can be damaging and crippling and hindering, if we all could push ourselves even to share the smallest part of what we're going through, we would find often enough that someone somewhere out there is feeling the same. Empathy is the the antidote to shame and vulnerability is our most accurate measure of courage (Brene Brown, anyone?). I hope that in telling my stories others may feel more comfortable in sharing theirs, as I did when I first experienced others being unashamedly open. Self-acceptance is the single most important trait i've taught myself in the last eight months but it's a constant, and it takes work. Of course, I'm still learning.

Soon after I started counselling (my second attempt at therapy, through a charity. Sadly my NHS CBT was not a helpful experience), my therapist and I noticed a pattern where my symptoms were less during the days and weeks I spent more of my time working on embroidery - a peaceful and repetitive activity that allowed me to flex my creative muscles. I began by stitching the words and phrases that meant the most to me, from song lyrics to lines in books and quotes from TV shows, using lettering I had designed during my last period of extreme difficulty a few years earlier. As I've said repeatedly, I'd always dreamed of selling my artwork, in fact as a teenager I felt so encouraged and complimented by my teachers and peers that I decided it was what I wanted to do as an adult.

My therapist helped me both with my inescapable fear of every day not reaching my full potential and my unremitting need to be productive, and soon enough it finally dawned on me that this obsessive nature towards my creativity was the thing most stopping it from progressing. Pair this with a very quick realisation after halving the time I spent at work that I needed to step away from the management bubble and finally take the necessary steps in pursuing a more creative outlet, if for my health more than anything else, I began to dream again. Possibility has become, well, possible again, and embroidery has been something of a lifeline to me in 2017.

Eight months later I am beginning to see how the life I am now attempting to lead is perhaps the one I should have pursued all along. Driving for flexible working is something I now feel so strongly about along with the ability to juggle a number of income streams. As well as selling embroidery, I co-host an Air Bnb with my flatmate/landlord, and I work part-time at the same supermarket job I've had since I was sixteen - the one I was previously pursuing as a manager. Of course, one day I hope to leave that supermarket job, but I hardly believe any artist/creative/entrepreneur can simply go it alone from the off (unless you've got a tonne of spare cash lying around, and what twenty-something has that in 2017?) but for now it keeps me grounded and remains a stable income as my other businesses begin to grow.

We are raised to believe that there is only way to make a living - do a load of unpaid work, send in your CV, plough on at that 9-5. This has never appealed to me. I always wanted to do something more creative and it was trying to fit into that box after leaving university, if only in order to save enough money to then pursue something I actually wanted to do, that once again drove my mental health into the ground.

My biggest problem, both in my professional and personal life, has for a long time been that I was putting everyone else's needs above my own, trying my utmost hardest to fit into someone else's mould. Through therapy I learnt to listen to my own wants and needs. I'd known all along that I should be spending my life doing something creative, so how had I become so set on this management track? Low and behold, not long after I went part time (in the end I had to halve my hours for the sake of my mental wellbeing) my health started to improve, and I made the decision to never again seek a full-time job. Creative entrepreneurs were suddenly appearing everywhere - on instagram, blogs and podcasts, and I began studying their journeys with an obsessive fervour.

Looking back, it should have been plain as day that I should pursue a creative business - I'd always been driven and independent with a talent for design - but that's what mental health does to you I suppose. Join me on my journey (such a lame term, right? Thesaurus.com suggests pilgrimage, odyssey and jaunt as possible alternatives) as I try to grow my creative business, all the while navigating the murky waters of mental health.