“This book is for anyone who has loved and lost an animal... Let me help you to find them again, through this story.”
Eli Gardner
At the end of July, my pet bereavement project (Gracie’s Way) received a follow on the project’s Instagram (@GraciesWayUK) from indie Author; Eli Gardner, I decided to check out her profile (@abrakadabraink). When I discovered she had written a book which included discussion of the topic pet bereavement and that she uses her book sales to fund animal rescue, I immediately DM’d her to say thanks and then asked if she’d like to collaborate. I give some brief descriptions of Gracie’s Way, and I’m NOT Disordered and offered to put together a proper collaboration pitch if she was interested, but she actually agreed to the collaboration without me doing so! In our talks to determine exactly what shape the collaboration would take, Eli very kindly gifted me a personalised copy of the book as well as sending a lot more copies with the plan of running a giveaway on both I’m NOT Disordered and Gracie’s Way! So, the plan for this blog post – for Read A Book Day 2026 – is that I’m going to chat through my favourite bits/quotes from Eli’s book; It’s A Wonderful Afterlife and then this will be followed with a Q&A with Eli, and then the methods for entering the giveaway...
‘Was something world-changing hiding in the back of the trailer?’
- From page 126
Now, I recognise some might be surprised to see this quote and are likely wondering how – or why – I've managed to find it relevant or appropriate to mental health... Well, I’m focusing on the ‘world-changing’ bit and then taking the part about ‘hiding in the back’ as meaning where it was difficult to find, and I’ve actually thought of two ways that this has been relevant to both my mental health journey and my career.
Firstly, the mental health relevance...
After six months of abuse (which included one instance of rape), I spent the following two years, silently, desperately, trying to cope with the traumatic memories and the thoughts and feelings around the anger I was experiencing towards the person responsible, which was genuinely going to eat me alive. In 2009, I made my first suicide attempt and with still, no one knowing what had happened to me and me refusing the potentially life-saving treatment, I was detained under section 2 of the 1983 Mental Health Act and hospitalised. This instance was the start of years of constantly being in and out of hospitals, to the point where I was told that my records showed over 60 admissions to both psychiatric and medical hospitals, during that time.
In 2011, after a big argument with my Mum, I moved to my biological Dad’s home down South and after a short time of feeling incredibly positive with the notion that it was a bit of a fresh start, my mental health caught up with me and I was sectioned again down there. When the psychiatric staff were talking to my Mum on the phone, they asked her if I’d ever had Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT) and my Mum replied that we hadn’t even heard of it. The staff were surprised and explained that it was actually the recommended treatment for someone with a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and I had been diagnosed with it back in late 2009.
My Mum being the greatest, most supportive person in my life spent forever then went on to make a ton of calls to the community mental health professionals who I’d been on caseload with before the move and asked them why DBT had never been mentioned. The end result of her phone calls was the establishment that the NHS Trust responsible for all of the psychiatric services in our locality didn’t have a single member of staff trained in delivering DBT. With this in mind, I think it’s almost understandable that things only got worse with my mental health, my inability to cope, and my efforts to stay safe.
In the beginning of 2012, during a hospitalisation, the inpatient Consultant Psychiatrist held a meeting with myself and the Community Psychiatric Nurse (CPN) who I was on caseload with. He explained his recommendation that the CPN start looking into out-of-area, Personality Disorder hospitals because he felt that the Trust were unable to provide the right level of help and support for me. So, whilst I was still an inpatient, I had my first assessment for a specialist hospital that was over 90 miles away from home. After it though, the hospital informed my Psychiatric and CPN that they couldn’t accept my flight risk (I was quite well-known for going AWOL from hospitals) and recommended that my CPN look at placements in more secure hospitals (psychiatric hospitals have different levels of security and by ‘security’ this means the doors being locked and the grounds being walled etc).
Since I’d cooperated with that assessment, it was decided that I was well enough to be discharged and have any further assessments in the community. In June or July 2012, I met with a Ward Manager and her Deputy from a specialist hospital that was actually over 120 miles away (that previous one was literally the closest Personality Disorder hospital)! The assessment went well but at the end, they started telling me what an average day was like on their ward and hearing how structured it was – with a wake-up time, a communal Morning Meeting, therapeutic and activity groups for the entire day, a communal Reflection Meeting, and a bed-time – I was completely dissuaded and when they told my CPN they would offer the bed, I refused to go. As I was no longer sectioned, it was going to prove a lot more difficult for them to be able to force me to go.
A few weeks later, my hallucinations escalated and I was filled with a huge sense of hopelessness and a massive fear that just when I think it’s the worst it can possibly get, it gets worse! So, I made another suicide attempt and again, I refused the life-saving treatment; but this time, Doctors used the 2005 Mental Capacity Act. They wheeled me from the ward to the resuscitation area, had a ton of staff come in, restrained me, sedated me, and put me on life support. When the treatment was finally finished (it used to be administered for 24 hours) and I woke up, my Mum said I needed to go to the hospital from that last assessment and I eventually agreed. I’m very glad I did because I later found out there’d been a huge, elaborate, dramatic plan in place between mental health services and the Police to have me taken to the specialist hospital against my will!
The psychiatric hospital had this guideline that patients didn’t go straight into DBT sessions, you had to have some sort of period of stability or time to ‘settle in’ before it. So it was after a few months, I think, as an inpatient and on new medication, that I finally began DBT (for more details on this, because I won’t be saying much more about it, I published a big, long blog post back in 2021 about it: A GUIDE TO DIALECTICAL BEHAVIOUR THERAPY)! We had both 1:1 and group sessions and at an NHS event recently, in the Q&A at the end of my speech, someone asked me which method or format I’d preferred. I liked that question because it’s actually something I have never thought about, contemplated, nor created content on (not even in that DBT blog post I linked earlier!). I told her that I preferred individual sessions because in the group ones, there was two things that would happen:
Another inpatient would always monopolise the session, do all the talking, and, to a degree, they even guided the way the session went in terms of how long we spent on whatever the Therapist talked about. And the Therapist we had struggled – through no fault or weakness of their own – to really reign things back in, to take some sort of control over the session, to determine the level of detail discussed, and to ensure everyone else was heard.
Some of the other girls (it was an all-female ward) weren’t fans of DBT, disliked the Therapist, hadn’t even accepted that they needed Therapy, and/or didn't feel willing to give DBT the chance to help. Also, understandably, some girls were just having ‘off days’ and all these qualities often then impacted everyone else in the Therapy session. To be perfectly blunt and clear, I’d honestly, refer to some of the girls as bad influences at times.
Ultimately though, DBT proved itself to be lifesaving for me! I managed to conquer my original concern that people would judge me for the fact that such ‘simple’ Therapy skills like distraction and self-soothe were proving to be so helpful for me. I worried that it would leave people questioning just how much I was struggling and how necessary it had been for my instances of self-harm and suicide attempts if simply cuddling up in a blanket with my favourite movie helped. I also felt paranoid that I would appear ‘stupid’ for acknowledging that these therapeutic skills – which were so basic and demanded little energy to do – were honestly things I had never thought of when I’d been faced with difficult moments and traumatic flashbacks etc. I mean, if for one moment I thought there was even the possibility of an alternative coping mechanism being effective, I wouldn’t go to the lengths I have to manage my thoughts and feelings.
The largest testament or evidence to support DBT changing my life, is that a while after I was discharged from the hospital, over the course of one year, I saw a Psychiatrist who conducted a diagnosis review. Now, to be diagnosed with BPD, you must have at least five out of nine possible symptoms and when I was diagnosed, it was stated that I actually had all nine! So, in my review, the Psychiatrist was gradually – across what felt like a ton of appointments(!) - talking through each of the symptoms and establishing whether I still met the diagnostic criteria. Eventually, he declared that I have one symptom left to beat (the one about coping through self-harm and experiencing suicidal thoughts and feelings)! That meant I – with a huge and incredible amount of help and support from professionals, medication, DBT, and my blogging (I started I’m NOT Disordered as an inpatient in 2013) – had faced the eight symptoms: fear of abandonment, unstable relationships, identity disturbance, impulsive behaviour, chronic feelings of emptiness, explosive anger, and paranoia or dissociation.
Hearing him say that he would be instructing my GP Practice to list BPD as a ‘historic diagnosis’ filled me with the greatest amount of pride and relief. I think it was made into such a big deal because back in 2009, I had randomly glimpsed at a hospital discharge summary and next to the box ‘diagnosis’ was written ‘BPD’ with a question mark! Now, until then, I had never heard of this Disorder both in it not ever being mentioned regarding me and my mental health, nor in terms of hearing of it in media stories and content online etc. So, when I had runaway again and was assessed by a Psychiatrist and he asked one question for each of the symptoms, I hadn’t realised that’s what he was doing until the end when he told me that I’d answered positively for matching all nine BPD symptoms. So, when I came home, I asked my CPN at the time, if the result of that assessment meant I finally had the diagnosis and she replied, “I don’t you to be given that label yet because no one recovers from it so no services will touch you because they know that they won’t make a difference.”
Now, the reason why I had asked about having the diagnosis and why I was saddened by the CPN’s response, was because I could actually see some positive and benefits to having the diagnosis...
It would mean I wasn’t alone – if there was a diagnosis for what I was experiencing then that must mean others have gone through it too because surely, they wouldn’t create a diagnosis for just a handful of people! And i recognised that if other people had the diagnosis, then that meant I wasn’t ‘faulty’ or ‘broken.’ I felt this would serve as monumental reassurance, comfort, and validation.
I had struggled with my weight from the age of 15 as well and I actually matched all the criteria for Anorexia, but because I was still having a menstrual cycle and the criteria at the time was to have not had one for at least three months, I wasn’t given the diagnosis. And it was from that experience, that I discovered and recognised the fact that having a diagnosis can mean you have access to specialist services and professionals, and they could provide a better quality and more effective help and support than other, more general professionals and services.
The fact that for those three years before the specialist hospital, I hadn’t even heard of the life-saving Therapy that DBT turned out to be for me, and that it was so difficult to finally be given it, made me think of it as relevant to this book quote something ‘hiding’ but it being life-changing.
Now, I said at the beginning, I have two examples of this being in my life; so, the second instance is related more to my career as an Influencer and my work and experiences on my blogging journey...
On January 6th, 2013, I had been sectioned for around six months and was in the Meeting Room where we would usually have Ward Round on the ward in the specialist psychiatric hospital with my Key Nurse; Debbie (we’re friends now, so I have her permission to use her name!). I was the only inpatient on that ward to have the same Key Nurse for as long as I did because there was quite a high staff turn-over at that hospital in general and with it being long-term admissions, it was more likely the staff who were there when you were admitted, weren’t still there on your discharge. And so Debbie and I built a really special bond – she obviously didn’t overstep professional boundaries (like, we weren’t friends on Facebook until I’d been discharged!) - and yes, it featured some hugely negative moments e.g. when I went AWOL after she signed me out, but it was mostly full of good, positive, and productive times. And January 6th, 2013, was one of those moments...
Our 1:1 that evening came about at my request because I had agreed with the Psychiatrist (who was the Deputy to my Consultant Psychiatrist there) that on that day, I would start using some evenings and nights to begin writing notes for the staff about my trauma of rape and abuse. We had established that I find writing so therapeutic and that one reason for this is that I sometimes can’t find the words or the confidence to say things out loud. But I recognised that if the staff knew of some of the details of the abuse it would actually be helpful and it would enable them to better understand and appreciate my behaviours, attitude, thoughts, and feelings and in having this improved awareness, they would be able to better help and support me too.
Knowing that I was due/had agreed to start the writing that night, I had been anxious all day and as the time ticked on, I began to realise we had no real plan established for if doing this, made me struggle or become even more unsafe in struggling to cope with flashbacks and the triggering of memories. Whilst, at that point, the rape and abuse had happened six years earlier, there were parts of it that felt as though they had happened only the other day – and that is actually, sometimes still the case (yes, even twenty years later!). And, there’s actually is a little learning opportunity here for me to be able to say that this is why you really should be so cautious, attentive, careful, and aware when talking to a trauma survivor about their experiences because you have no idea how raw the memories might still be. Or they may not be that raw until you start talking about it and asking questions that require the survivor to think back and recount details.
Anyway, late that afternoon/early evening, I decided to ask to speak with Debbie (who, luckily, was on shift that day!) to see if there was a chance or opportunity to create a plan. Feeling prepared and/or having a concrete contingency plan is incredibly important for me – not just in that situation or ones like it, but generally in life too. I have come to recognise that you can’t predict and plan for everything; that’s impossible. But I definitely benefit from thinking ahead and having feelings that leave me feeling somewhat prepared in a ton of different scenarios. So, we ended up with this:
‘'Aimee has requested support whilst she makes an attempt to disclose sensitive information to staff. The format she will be disclosing information to staff will be by writing things down on an evening in her bedroom. Aimee will let staff know when she is writing so that they are aware that her mood may change and they are able to offer support if needed. Aimee will require support from staff at this time and will try to approach staff herself and utilise time by playing board games with staff to distract herself. Aimee may at times not feel able to approach staff due to feeling distressed, can staff please be vigilant and increase observations should Aimee present as unsettled. Aimee would like her bedroom door left open when struggling as she is able to manage herself in her room and finds time alone soothing. Her door however will be locked at nursing teams' discretion.'
As I walked back from the meeting room to my bedroom at the opposite end of the corridor, I was filled with this big notion that I was finally taking a step forward – a step toward recovery – and, as I reached my room, I decided I needed to be able to document my progress in some way. When I walked through the door, the first thing I saw was my laptop sat on the bed... We were only allowed them in the evenings and I was in my 1:1 with Debbie at the exact time I could’ve asked for it so the staff member in charge of the security cupboard (where our prohibited property or items we had to be supervised using or could only use at a certain time) had just assumed I’d want my laptop and took it out anyway. This was obviously a lovely gesture, but also a strange one as it had never happened before and that almost felt like a sign so that in wanting to document my recovery, I turned to thoughts on digital methods of doing it rather than pen and paper.
I can’t remember how I thought of ‘blogging’ as a means to keep track of my recovery journey, I just remember creating my account on Blogger and putting literally no consideration in when I typed ‘I’m NOT Disordered’ into the title. The lack of consideration only went so far as that I didn’t think of alternatives for the title rather than that I put no thought into the title; I chose ‘I’m NOT Disordered’ to help spread the message that just because a person has a psychiatric diagnosis, that’s not all that they are. That shouldn’t define them or their entire life.
Initially – and here’s how my ‘life-changing’ blog started off ‘hiding in the back’ – I only shared the links for my blog posts on my private Facebook account which had only my friends and family. I did this because in addition to my recognition that I had taken a huge step forward, it was my loved ones who I recognised as being important in terms of who saw my progress, who understood it, and who supported it. And so, as the reader count/statistics started to take a turn – within a week or so, I think of creating the blog – I realised that word-of-mouth publicity must be taking place and that my loved ones were privately (because I didn’t see anyone share i, nor was I notified or informed that they were) sharing the links to my content with their own social circle. But, as I could almost instantly find two huge positives in the increase of audience, I didn’t consider taking it down or stopping in anyway.
And what were those two instant positives that became the ‘life-changing' qualities?
Well, the first was that even just two or three weeks into my blogging and content creation career, I began receiving comments (I used to allow them on blog posts), messages on social media, and emails from readers stating how helpful or beneficial a piece of content – or the blog in its entirety – was for them. This was strange at first because over the three years from my first suicide attempt to being in the specialist hospital, I fully recognised that I wasn’t alone in so far as a lot of things: Borderline Personality Disorder, self-harm, suicide, trauma... Yet, actually hearing from people who openly stated that they ‘know how it feels’ was surprising and yes, sometimes it was hard to hear. Often people – especially those who were contacting me via DM’s or emails – were pouring their heart out to me and this was typically with paragraphs on paragraphs detailing their own experiences of abuse, rape, self-harm, or suicide attempts.
Initially, my largest difficulty in receiving these messages were simply that they were difficult to read and that as much as I hadn’t wanted to be alone in my difficulties and experiences, I also massively didn’t want to ever read about others going through these things too. I wouldn’t wish my experiences on anyone, and it was made all the harder that these comments, messages, and emails were coming from complete strangers who I didn’t know and couldn’t really offer my own support to them. I was stuck with just replying to their email and mentioning helplines or giving advice from what I’d already learnt from the amount of DBT I had completed at that point in my admission.
But then as people continued to spread the word about the blog and I started linking it on my more public social media, the number of emails became unrealistic for me to respond to everyone – or at least, to do personal responses and that’s why I ended up creating an address for the blog and adding automatic replies on everything coming into the inbox. But I think that hardest messages I receive are when people tell me they’ve experienced rape and abuse and haven’t reported it to the Police. It leaves me in a distinct dilemma with this somewhat natural urge to report it for them.
Those emails and ones detailing thoughts or descriptions of methods of self-harm were incredibly difficult and challenging to read for a number of years, in all honesty, but over all that time I massively established that the upset I faced wasn’t worth quitting blogging. I was benefiting so much that it outweighed these hard moments...
And one form of that benefit was that readers weren’t only getting in touch with their traumatic experiences; but in fact, the majority – I'd say maybe 75 – 80% of emails were from complete strangers telling me all the different ways my content had helped them. And I really loved and enjoyed that a lot of the time, it was actually benefiting people in ways that I had neither considered, nor intended, nor planned for.
The second ‘life-changing’ quality to my blogging was the amazing, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that it started to open up for me. In appreciating this quality, I recognise that it was obviously driven by the standard of the content I was creating, but that the popularity of it was most likely the real, determining factor in receiving and being offered incredible opportunities and experiences. Like, why would an organisation want to collaborate with a content creator or Influencer who had no followers or whose audience isn't influenced by their content – particularly the obvious in terms of mentioning, linking, and recommending other companies or products etc.
Initially, my recovery made me incredibly determined to make the most of my life, my career, and the opportunities I was being offered because I felt that since I’d survived, I should make the most of everything that came my way. I eventually learned that I was taking on too much at once and the way I managed to get a handle on that was by recognising that if I was spreading myself thin and having to share my attention and energy between too many different projects and collaborations etc, I wouldn’t produce work or content that was at a level, standard, or quality that I had the potential to. And I realised that why would an organisation or whatever want to work with me again if I didn’t create good enough content for them? So, whilst I was desperate to never feel like I was missing out on something, saying “no,” or turning down an opportunity, I recognised that taking everything on wasn’t always the right decision or the best one. And that, if anything, it could end up actually being detrimental to me, my blog, its popularity, success, and the eagerness and willingness of other organisations to collaborate etc.
So, I finally – to sound less arrogant; it did take a few years! – found a way to master my workload and to really stay on top of how much I was taking on, what I was prioritising (I find having or creating deadlines useful for this!), and how I was coping with the amount of tasks I had and I think that really was key to my blog becoming as life-changing as it did. But I still find myself shocked when I think back to its tiny beginning... I’ve never been one to really ‘blow my own trumpet’ that easily, but I’ve found that the statistics functions on Blogger are really helpful with this because a level of self-promotion and confidence is – I think – sometimes essential to success and growth in the Influencer or content creation industry. So, when I realised it took two years to reach my first 100,000 readers and I literally just got over 266,000 last month – in that one month! – I’ve managed to draw a great deal of confidence from that. I mean, you can’t deny or belittle a very real and successful statistic like that.
‘"I won't beat around the bush,” Major Shady began. “Your efforts have been underwhelming, to say the least.”’
- From page 182
So, in this collaboration piece and drawing on quotes from the book, I really wanted to find relevance to three key topics: my mental health journey, my career, and my experiences of pet bereavement and I feel that I’ve accomplished those first two in that first quote and this last one I’m going to discuss is, very sadly, going to be very relevant to my most recent experience of pet bereavement. I say ’sadly’ because the thought of someone else’s ‘efforts’ being ‘underwhelming’ when it comes to pet bereavement can very easily be interpreted as referring to the veterinary staff and branding their efforts ‘underwhelming’ in regard to bereavement? Well, I don’t think it gets much more wrong, difficult, sad, or disappointing.
In all honesty, I’m actually on a few rabbit groups on Facebook and so I’ve read posts/stories of poor veterinary care or wrong professional advice that has had horrific results, but it’s one of those situations that you hear about and you never think it will happen to you or – what's more relevant and appropriate – your pets. But I guess this is the ultimate ‘head-in-the-sand' attitude in, arguably, being somewhat naïve and in denial. Or maybe, another way of looking at it because this was the reason for my denial it would happen to my pets, was actually that it was a sign of confidence and reliance in the Veterinary Practices (there is two different Practices depending on whether it’s out-of-hours) I take my pets to and the staff within them.
On numerous occasions on Monday August 31st, 2026, though, the Vet at my pets out-of-hours (it was a Bank Holiday that day) put in underwhelming effort in the card of my youngest bunny; Tillie, coming in as an emergency. She hadn’t eaten since the previous day, I’d witnessed her do wet stools (I have another bunny – Luna – so if I hadn’t witnessed her do it, I wouldn’t have known who was), and eventually, I found her lying in urine with no care or fight as I picked her up (she hated being picked up, but would cuddle in for hours once she was in your arms). As we waited for the taxi, her breathing became loud and I decided to film it so that if it had gone back to normal by the time we were at the Vets, at least I could play them the video.
Now, I’ve decided not to go into too much detail about the actual appointment, but the three largest failures and instances of negligence and inadequate care were:
I played the Vet the video of her breathing and her only comment was “ah yes, I can hear it” whereas when I took Tillie to be cremated the following day to her normal Vets, their first comment was “that sounds like she has a wheeze.”
The Vet mentioned inpatient care and priced it at over £1,000 for twenty-four hours and stated that it would only mean that they were administering the medication - which she deemed preventative and stated numerous times that Tillie didn’t actively need it - which I could give her at home... When I played the video of Tillie’s death (I thought she was having a seizure and decide to record it so that I could show the Vet, but it ended up capturing her death) to her normal Vets they said if that had happened as an inpatient, they may have been able to save her.
Towards the end of the appointment, I asked if Tillie’s temperature had been ok and the Vet said “oh! I didn’t do that!” I explained I was asking because her ears felt cold, the Vet said she would feel them and then said “they don’t feel that cold” and still failed to take her temperature. The temperature of a rabbit can be a huge indicator of how poorly they are, and it can very obviously not be properly determined by touching their ears!
After frequently stating that she wasn’t ‘worried’ about Tillie, I agreed to take her home with the medication and we were home an hour and twenty minutes when – from the bedroom – I heard a squeaking and banging from the Kitchen and went running through. Tillie was under the cooker, amongst the pans and jerking, I thought she was having a seizure, and my first thought was to film so that I could show the Vet. I didn’t, not even for one minute, think I was going to capture her death.
In a desperate attempt to wrap this bit up on a positive note: keep an eye on Gracie’s Way for something somewhat productive to come from this heart-breaking, tragic, traumatising loss.
THE Q&A WITH ELI GARDNER
1. What drew you to writing a story that touches on themes of grief, loss and emotional wellbeing?
I actually believe I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. I feel my primary purpose here is to use my writing to make the world a better place. My stories come from personal experiences, and this one is no exception. After the consecutive losses of three of our animals in one summer (2 cats and 1 horse), I was left emotionally reeling. I began questioning other things I thought I knew, such as what I believed was my secondary purpose—rescuing animals. Suddenly I doubted I could make a difference at all. I wasn’t strong enough. It was too much, and I wasn’t who I thought I was all along. As I navigated these huge emotions of losing so many dear animals, and this second hurt of questioning my purpose, I became hyperaware of this massive community of people who were grieving. Because our beloved animals are family. Best friends. Teachers. Counsellors. All these things at once and more. And after I lost three, I came to also believe they were/are my angels, sent specifically for me, from Heaven. Months passed as I thought about these things. A story concept formed, and I took comfort in it- in the thought of my animals overwatching me from the Rainbow Bridge. Sending me cosmic signs on purpose. Choosing my next animals for me, with God himself. After the concept formed and I found it healing, I felt the choice to write it was out of my hands. It was my responsibility now, because I had this recipe now for navigating grief. For seeing past the hurt to something hopeful. I felt that even if it hurt to write it, it would be selfish to keep it from others, even if it only helped a single person.
2. Did you find that writing It’s A Wonderful Afterlife had any impact on your own mental health or emotional wellbeing?
It undoubtedly had an impact, and it mirrored the many stages of grief. Since the losses were based on our real animals, I did relive those moments—a lot. I read through my own manuscript dozens of times as I edited. I put deeply personal things in the book on purpose. I tried to tackle the biggest issues pet-owners struggle with after a death, guilt being the big one. I should have done more. I wasn’t there. It’s my fault. I had to face these thoughts myself as I wrote them through my character. A deep-seated hurt was exposed, especially because there are also encounters with the character’s inner child, and that is an important part of the healing process as well. It was painful, but it forced me to address a lot of things instead of sweeping them under the rug for later. It was healing and at times a joyful experience, because I got to write about my animals/all animals at the Rainbow Bridge. I got to give them metaphorical wings, and eternity. I gave them a voice. They spoke to me through the story, as I hope your animals will speak to you. To answer all those ugly thoughts with things like: It’s ok. It wasn’t your fault. You are enough.
3. Do you think writing can provide people with a safe way of processing difficult emotions or experiences that they might struggle to express in everyday life?
Absolutely. I do this often myself after hard conversations, romantic arguments or heavy events. Sometimes verbally expressing something fails us. Sometimes the words sit heavy on our tongues, and we are too weary to even speak. But pen and paper offer us security, and it is free from judgement, which energizes us to tell the paper the truth. We can write down the ugly things we are too ashamed to say. We can tear it into 1,000 pieces and feel physically lighter after—even if it’s just a little. We can go back and reread and examine—seek patterns and answers. Writing is a gift to us all.
4. What do you hope readers might recognise, understand or perhaps even learn about themselves through your characters?
Through this book, I want readers to see their hurting inner child. I want them to recognize they are doing the best they can, that they can forgive themselves. I want them to realize that love is eternal and reaches into the Afterlife, and even if we feel we are alone, there is always someone out there thinking of us, praying for us, or watching over us. I want them to learn that it is normal to question themselves during a period of mourning, but those doubts will not last forever. I want them to learn about the glow they put off when they are brave enough to step into their purpose, and how it effects and empowers others. Basically, that we are each that falling pebble into a pond, and our ripples touch so many others. And we must remember this and go forth in life kindly because of it (both to ourselves and others), and courageously.
5. What role has reading played in your own mental health and wellbeing?
Reading has saved me time and time again! It raised me and shaped me into an adventurer and dreamer, through books like Anne of Green Gables, the Narnia and Harry Potter series. When I became an adult, I turned back to books to distract me when I was broken hearted, and audiobooks like Project Hail Mary and Legends and Lattes provided a comforting balm to my spirit, that helped keep me going, until I was ready to address the hurt. Then it was books about self-improvement. About mental health, and personal development. And finally, it came full circle back to books of all genres, to maintain a healthy balance of everything.
6. How did you find the balance between writing about difficult subjects and creating something that readers can ultimately find comfort, connection or enjoyment in?
I’ve been working towards this balanced sweet spot for years now, and early on I recognized that if I wanted to tackle hard topics, I needed something to counterbalance the heaviness of it. Something beautiful. Something magical. Another story within the story. I did this with my earlier books like 1,000 Nights: Death’s Love Letter to Afghanistan, where the book is two literal stories woven into one another, the fairytale aspects balancing out the real-life wartime backdrop. Magical realism is my favourite tool for creating enough wonder and whimsy to counterbalance heavy topics. And I never leave my readers with sad endings. No matter how heavy the topic is, I will present hopeful solutions or endings. There are enough negative mindsets in the world! I do not seek to add to that heaviness. But we must address it, in order to get to the light.
7. Why do you think stories can make us feel less alone?
Stories show us that others have gone before us—others have experienced these same things—and they have found a way of making it through to the other side. It is like someone reaching back their hand to us and saying, I got through this—so will you. Stories provide us with loving messages without demanding anything back from us except to consider the thoughts it provokes within us. They provide friendship without demanding it. Entertainment. Serotonin. Heartbreak in a safe, controlled way. Namely, they make us feel things, and they open up our world. These are all expanding things that counter the shrinking feeling of being alone.
8. Do you think there is a particular value in reading about difficult experiences — such as grief, loss or uncertainty — when you're going through something similar yourself?
I do, when you are ready! I acknowledge that there is a time and place to immerse yourself in difficult feelings, and it might not be right away. For me personally, when I was in the middle of going through something, I needed more distraction reads than anything else. After the initial trial had passed, I was able to dive into the reading that involved similar situations. I do see value in reading about similar difficult circumstances that have been overcome by someone to learn about solutions and success stories. But everyone is unique in terms of what they are ready for. The biggest thing for whatever you do, consume POSITITIVE uplifting material, even if the topic itself is heavy.
9. For someone who has never considered themselves a writer, what would you say about using creative writing as a potential way of exploring their emotions?
I would say that you have nothing to lose! Try it for a few days and see how you feel. There are so many good journals out there or even single writing prompts you can look up to get you going, if you are struggling to start. I also believe in the power of writing down your intentions. So, it goes both ways: Explore where you are now. And explore where you want to be in the future. Write from the perspective of you are already there, then work backwards, puzzling together what needs to be done to get you there. Or create a short story just for fun by tapping into your inner child. There’s literally no way to mess up creative writing, so definitely have fun with it.
10. Finally, if someone picked up It’s A Wonderful Afterlife during a difficult period in their life, what would you hope they take away from the experience of reading it?
Mostly, I would hope they take away how powerful an effect their life can have on others and therefore the world, even if they can’t directly see it. In the story, simple kindness creates an actual frost in Hell (Hell freezing over), because kindness is dangerous to the agendas of those who mean us all harm. When we doubt ourselves, there is a bigger unseen battle going on, but as much as that is true, it is also true that we are being protected, cheered on, and watched over. We never fight alone, and angels surround us, whether those angels are our neighbours, our found family, or even (and sometimes most importantly), our animals.
THE GIVEAWAY!!!
We have six books available to win (one per account/entry)!
To enter the giveaway: you just have to follow @aimes_wilson, @GraciesWayUK, and @abrakadabraink and share the pinned post on the account: @aimes_wilson in your Stories by 00:00 on 13.09.2026 and all six accounts will be selected at random and contacted via DM by the account: @aimes_wilson to ask your postal address and the book will be sent completely free of charge.
‘”Whatever it is,” Shiloh kissed her mother on the cheek, “thank you. Thank you for everything.”’
From page 344