4am…

So, it’s 4am, and I’ve not yet slept.  Hurrah for insomnia!

I’m no stranger to this stupid fucked up sleep cycle, I’ve been living with it for years, but I’ll never get over the fact that 4am is so utterly boring!

I’ve been looking at recipes.  Mainly healthy ones.  It can never hurt to try to eat healthier, can it?

I’ve been browsing the Shitty Watercolour Facebook page.

Listened to another episode of Paul Temple.

My brain isn’t ready to switch off.

A million and one things are racing round my head.  I wonder how they all fit in there.

Just had a mug of hot chocolate, but now I feel sick.

I should probably go back to bed as I have important things to do tomorrow.

It’s too late to take a zopiclone, as I won’t be up before lunchtime if I do that now, and if I was to be, I’d have the mother of all hangovers from it.

I kind of hope that spilling here will allow me to get at least a couple of hours sleep.

I wish I could put my finger on one particular thing that’s bothering me right at this moment, but I guess it’s a culmination of things.  So many things in this old brain.

I applied to go back to uni, so I’m on pins and needles waiting to hear about that.  I’d love to be able to finish my Film Studies course, but unfortunately, it’s not as simple as it may seem.

I’m totally lacking motivation to do anything at the moment, so that’s making me feel guilty.  I enjoyed the sun the other day though, and went for a nice walk.  Baby steps.

I wish people would mind their own sodding business, and focus on their own lives rather than trying to ruin other peoples.  Makes me think of the old ‘people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones’.

I’m worried about this whole election business.  Still no one seems to know what Brexit is, and whilst the media are talking about Diane Abbot getting muddled up in an interview, the government are pushing through some very worrying policies that will affect our young people.

One of my cats has been more clingly than usual since she was spayed the other week, and I don’t know if I should be concerned about that or not.

I feel terribly guilty for not making more effort to see people this past goodness knows how many months.  I currently don’t have a car, so I’m feeling somewhat isolated.  I liked being able to just go out for a drive sometimes, particularly if the weather was nice.  Just go and see places.

I don’t have a light summer jacket.  I have cardigans and winter coats, but nothing really in between, so I was thinking of making the ‘bomber jacket’ from Gerties  ‘Gertie Sews Vintage Casual: A Modern Guide to Sportswear Styles of the 1940s and 1950s’ (seriously, something I’ve been thinking about whilst unable to sleep!).

There was something about shoes too, but that’s not in my brain any more.

I worry a lot.  I think too much.

I need to sleep.  It’s now almost 5am.  Fingers crossed for the sandman.

xxx

 

 

 

Claiming Benefits.

I’ve been unemployed since the beginning of April. I made a claim for Jobseekers Allowance, and was put on Universal Credit.  I had to wait until 10th June to get a payment of £238.  I still have all the bills I had to pay before losing my job, so I wonder how people cope, as I can guarantee that I’m not doing so well.  I guess one benefit is that I don’t have to pay for my prescriptions.

Going through the benefits system has been nothing short of traumatic.  I have been patronised, spoken down to and treated like a sub-standard human.  I have asked if I know how to look for a job, been told that I shouldn’t be overdrawn and given incorrect information time and time again.

I have been in work since I was 16, so I know how to look for work.  I am not uneducated, and I’m certainly not scum, so why do employees of the DWP feel it necessary to treat me this way?

From speaking to other people, this is common practice.  It’s almost as if we a taking money from their own pockets.

At no point have I been offered any kind of support.

The benefits system is seriously failing people with mental health issues.

How can Stephen Crabb (Secretary of State for Work & Pensions) even imagine that the system is fine how it is?

When information and support is deliberately withheld, how can this be a good way to run the system?

For instance, I read about budgeting support.  I’d quite like that help.  I was given a leaflet from Debt Advice.  If you ask, you can have your benefits paid bi-weekly, but you have to know about this in the first place to be able to ask.

Universal Credit is meant to ‘reflect the world of work’, but I was paid weekly, all my bills were set up weekly, I budgeted weekly, so how does that system help me?  The amount of Universal credit is roughly what I earned per week, so far less than minimum wage.

I honestly wonder if the system is set up in such a way that they hope to kill off people with mental health issues.  It wouldn’t surprise me.

Maybe Mr Crabb doesn’t realise how this affects someone with such an illness?

Let me enlighten you.

I already mentioned having exactly the same bills now as I did when I was employed full time.  You start getting threatening letters because your bank account is overdrawn, you get phone calls from people wanting the bill paid.  As a sufferer of depression and anxiety, you dread the phone ringing, you don’t know what to say to them, so you ignore it.  You don’t know how to deal with it.  You feel helpless.

You try to eat a healthy diet because you know it helps you feel better, but you can’t afford the good food that you could when you were earning, so instead you start living on pasta and sauce and cheap ready meals.  Your stomach constantly feels bloated and you feel sick.  You feel lethargic and even less inclined to leave the safety of your bed.

You can’t go out anywhere because you can’t afford the petrol.  You certainly can’t afford to socialise unless you’re being paid for, and that causes feelings of shame and guilt.  How can you replay them?

You dread your bi weekly visits to the job centre to be judged by someone sat behind a desk, tarring you with the same brush as those ‘benefits cheats’.  The dread starts a few days before your appointment, and when sat in front of the guardian of the money, you bite back the tears as they decide if your attempts to find work in a place where no work exists were up to their own standards.  You want to yell and scream, but you turn into a tiny, quiet little mouse.  You just want someone to help, but know it’s not likely here, and you have no idea where to turn.  They’ve beaten you down.

All the while, those with the power to make a difference put in their expenses forms whilst you struggle to get by on the pasta and cans of beans you had left over from the last time you were able to do a proper food shop.

I wonder if Mr Crabb will read this?  I wonder what his thoughts are?

This is why I want to move.  I want to make a better life for myself, but how can I even make that happen when I can barely afford to feed myself?  It’s a never ending spiral of worthlessness, failure and shame.

I wonder if Mr Crabb would like to donate?  He could always claim it back on his expenses…

Please consider donating to my Go Fund Me

Part 2 – The Aftermath

Click here for part 1

I don’t remember very much of that weekend, I think most of it was spent in tears.

I returned to work on the Monday, I had to carry on like normal, after all.  I was under a lot of pressure from work as I was in the shit for taking time off to find a home and after my uncle passed away, so I dragged myself in.

I made an appointment to see the doctor – something I probably should have done weeks before.

I was given a sick note for 2 weeks.  My doctor was horrified at what I told him, and was really supportive.

I emailed work and told them I had a sick note.  My boss knew what had happened, and knew I was going to see the doctor.

That Wednesday I received a letter from my employer saying I was fired, but they would pay me 4 weeks pay and I didn’t have to work my notice.

The reason was ‘gross misconduct’. There were a few things mentioned, but no actual reason for them considering whatever I’d done as ‘gross misconduct’.

But I wasn’t well enough to do anything about it, and by God I wanted them to know they can’t just treat people like this.

I was being harassed by someone at work as a direct result of their inability to nip the problem in the bud before I even began working there.  The worst thing?  THEY ADMITTED AS MUCH!!!

Anyway, I was then at a point where I was unemployed, alone, and living in a caravan just a few miles from my previous house.

A few things occurred to me – why, if my now ex partner had been ‘thinking about this for a while’, had he allowed me to look for a place near him, knowing my family and nearest friends live an hour away?  This pissed me right off.  It still does.  We’ll not go into what I thought (and still think) about the ‘friends’ that I made whilst living round here.

My depression had been kept relatively under control until the beginning of April.  I was looking forward to moving and getting on with life, looking to the future, then things fell apart.

I couldn’t see any reason to carry on.  It was honestly the thought of my cats eating my face that kept me from doing anything stupid.

The week after I was dumped, it was my uncles funeral.  I felt so selfish for feeling like I did.  Here I am, unemployed, newly single, and all pretty much my own fault, and my cousins are now without their dad, and my auntie without her husband.  How self absorbed.  I was swinging wildly between feeling despair and feeling self loathing for feeling like I did.

Guilt is a big part of depression for a lot of people.  Being brought up Catholic, well, guilt is like a default setting for me.  It feeds the depression.

I spent most of my days crying, utterly unable to see a way out of this mess.

I spoke with my ex partner a couple of weeks after he dumped me, and I felt like maybe things were not all lost, so I emailed him.  It could be that he’s not seen it, or maybe he deleted it.  Whatever, he hasn’t seen fit to reply.

I probably don’t need to go into the negative thoughts I have about this.  Needless to say, I’ve come to the conclusion that actions speak louder than words, and his feelings towards me, and our relationship are obviously not anywhere near what I feel about him.

Yes, I still love him.  Yes I’d love a future with him.  But somewhere along the line he decided that wasn’t for him.

Maybe there’s someone else.  I don’t know and I suppose I’ll never know as this person that I love and care about so deeply, the person I miss each and every day, wants absolutely nothing to do with me.  Every day it feels like my heart is breaking afresh as I look at my phone and don’t see my ‘good morning princess’ message from him.

I find it unbelievable that I managed to make him think this way, when I think of other people and how they are with each other, the things that they have been through and they are still together.

I do have a point to make, but you’ll have to bear with me, this is all relevant stuff.

I haven’t cried for 3 days, which is good going, but writing about his morning message has set me off.  It’s the silly little things I miss the most.

It’s these things that kept me going and stopped me from succumbing to my depression sooner.

Someone said to me that you shouldn’t rely on anyone else for your happiness.  I know this full well, and it wasn’t relying on anyone for happiness.  It was having someone there that understood and just their very existence made each day bearable.

I didn’t want him to bail me out, I told him as much.  I didn’t fuck up on purpose, I just can’t deal with things very well, I thought I was doing the right thing.  Maybe I was doing the right thing in my head, but when your brain doesn’t work too well in the first place it’s hard to tell, and certainly looks like a huge cluster fuck to the average outsider.

So onto the point I wanted to make with this story.

Being with me, you don’t just get me.  You get me, and my depression.  Being with someone with depression is like being with 2 people.  Always this horrid thing is there, you may not see it all the time, you may not see it often, but it’s always lurking.  You may not realise how it can rule someone’s life, even when they look fine and seem to be acting fine and holding shit together.

It’s a constant darkness following you.

At times it feels like a tangible thing.

It’s suffocating.

When it comes down to it, my darkness pushed the one person I have ever been able to see a future with away.  I don’t mean to sound like I’m making excuses, but sometimes the way my brain works may seem totally normal to me, but it’s not to other people.

It’s kind of ironic that the main theme for this years Mental Health Awareness Week has been relationships.

So here I am, still alone in my caravan in the middle of nowhere, still unemployed, still struggling through each day.  Some days I cry a lot, some days I feel ok.  I am back to not even considering a future (I never had done until I met my ex), it all seems pretty pointless at the moment when I have to force myself to get out of bed in the mornings.  I can’t plan too far ahead as I’ll either forget or be unable to do it.  Have I mentioned that my memory goes completely when I’m ill?

I am lucky that I have an extremely supportive family and a fantastic group of friends that have gone out of their way to look after me. Social media sometimes gets a bad rap, but I can say, hand on heart, that I would have been absolutely lost without Facebook & Twitter.  It’s not easy scraping together money to travel to see people, but at least if I’m able to steal wifi I can at least stay in touch.

(Part 1)

Living in the middle of nowhere, with no friends living close by, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the events of the past few months.  I’m not decided if this is a good thing or a bad thing yet, but I know I am beginning to feel better, finally.  It’s small steps, and I know that there will be good days and bad days, but I think I’m getting there.

I feel able to assess what has gone wrong.

I moved to the area I live in to be nearer to my partner, but it wasn’t long before I had decided that the place I was renting was actually pretty bad for me.  It was costing me over half of my wages each month, and my landlord seemed to think it was ok to let himself into my flat whenever he felt like it.  This, combined with the fact that I received verbal abuse from him, him thinking it acceptable to vet my post and the fact that he would not communicate directly with me regarding my tenancy (it was ok to talk to anyone other than me, in fact) led me to decide (after a year of this) to leave.  My partner supported me in my decision, and knew that the place wasn’t making me happy.

At the end of February, I began to downsize.  Along with not wanting the fancy flat, that I didn’t need a majority of the ‘stuff’ I’d accumulated over the years.  It wasn’t adding to my happiness and therefore it had no place in my life.

A friend was selling a caravan, so I made the decision to buy my own house, and move from a 1 bedroom flat, into a 4 berth caravan.  Saving on rent and bills would be huge, and it would allow me to save for a future with my  partner.

My landlord vanished for 5 weeks, I assume he’d gone on holiday.  During this time, I’d paid a deposit on a pitch for my caravan, and began packing in order to move out as soon as I was able.  As he was away, I wasn’t able to talk to my landlord.  I didn’t know when he would be back, or what to do in the mean time.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to move and pay my rent, but again, I was unable to speak with my landlord about this, plus, as I already mentioned, he refused to speak with me about such things anyway.

The day before we were due to leave for a holiday for my birthday, my landlord decided to lose the plot completely.  I’d seen him, but again, he didn’t speak to me.  He approached my partner, and said he wanted me out (no great shame as I was planning on leaving the week after our holiday anyway), but I think he wanted to feel in control, so he decided to kick me out.  I was not party to any conversations, so I cannot say what was discussed, but the outcome was that I had until the end of the week following our holiday to move out of the flat (end of March).  Fine by me.

Whilst my landlord was on holiday, my heating broke, and my boiler was constantly on.  This resulted in a services bill of over £350.  My partner agreed to pay the bill, without consulting me.  I was not happy with this, but I was told ‘you have no choice’.  So the bill was paid.

On this same day, the site I had booked to put my caravan called to say they would not accept the van on site as it ‘looks old’, and ‘looks like a gypsy caravan’.  Yes, it is old.  Yes, it needed cleaning, but the issue was actually the make.  You see, my caravan is a make that is favoured by travellers.  Instantly I was labelled as a pikey.  The lady at the site said they had a van that someone was selling, which they would be happy to put on the pitch, the only issue with it was that there was no hot water.  Not a problem as there were facilities nearby.  We said we would take it as I needed a place to live.

Everything sorted, and I could go and enjoy my holiday visiting my partners family in Malta.

At this point I’m going to go back to December 2015.  I was working in a warehouse, a job that I enjoyed very much, but I had been bullied for a number of months.  This was by a man that had a history of treating others how he was treating me, but the management kept letting him get away with it so he was free to do it yet again.  After Christmas, I put in an official grievance, so this was also going on at the same time.  It was causing me to dread going into work as no one was talking to me, and I was constantly in and out of meetings about it, basically to be told ‘it’s your word against his’.  At some point, they produced a ‘mental health policy’.

In he week or so following Christmas, I found out that my uncle had been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.

It wasn’t long before things started to go downhill and my depression started to rear it’s ugly head.

Anyway, back to March.  We had a lovely holiday, and I came back feeling relaxed.  My bully had been dismissed following an incident where he had to be dragged away from me (I honestly thought he was going to hit me), and I was moving house!

On the bank holiday Monday we went up to look at the new caravan and were absolutely appalled by what we saw.  Mouldy, damp, falling to pieces.  The things hadn’t even been cleaned since the last time the previous owner had used it.  It was vile.  It was in much much worse condition than my van, but as it was a ‘respectable’ make, I guess it was ok for them.  We declined the offer of this caravan, and parted ways.

It was at this point that I also learned that the ‘agreement’ with the landlord actually involved me being unable to stay in the flat for the last week.  I was, in effect, homeless.

My partner took the next 2 days off work in order to help me find a new place to go with my van.  We visited many sites, and even went to a travellers site, in the hope that I could move somewhere.  Finally, at around 5pm on the Wednesday, we put my van on it’s pitch.  I could rest easy.

During this week, I should have been back to work, but what with being homeless, I took the decision to prioritise that above going into work.

I spent the Thursday getting myself moved in and sorted, with the intention of returning to work the following day.

I found out that evening that my uncle had passed away very suddenly, so my return to work didn’t happen until the following Monday.  I was in bits.  In the past 7 days 2 major things had happened that really tested my ability to keep going, but keep going I did.

I returned to work to find that my bully had contacted a solicitor, so that issue wasn’t over for me yet as I’d have to keep going over what had happened, as well as having to have a disciplinary for ‘unauthorised absence’.  I’m not about to start bashing my former employer, however they broke a number of their own rules in the following week.  Anyway, I’ll return to that.

It was beginning to get a bit too much for me, and I was frequently tearful, and very withdrawn.  One of the bosses found me sobbing in the kitchen and told me to ‘pull myself together’.  This was after they’d made up their ‘mental health policy’.  I was gobsmacked.  I was made to feel like a burden.  This, added to my ‘dedication to the company’ being questioned (please bear in mind that I had been subject to relentless bullying since before Christmas, and stuck it out for a meager £7 per hour), was too much.  A new job was in order, so I began looking.

As always, I spent that Wednesday with my partner (Wednesdays & Fridays have always been date night), and I stayed at his place.  He offered for me to use his washing machine as it’s cheaper than the launderette, and as he was going to be away in France for a week, said I could stay at his with my cats if I wanted.  Things were looking up.  I had my new home, was looking for a new job and I was looking forward to a future with my partner.

On the Friday I went over to his again for date night, and after telling me what we were going to have for tea, he dumped me.

Needless to say, I was rather stunned.

As I understand it, the past few months had been too much for him and he ‘couldn’t do it any more’.  He’d been ‘thinking about it for the past couple of months’, and he’d ‘only stayed with me because he hoped he’d get his money back’.  I’d ‘made him unhappy’.  He’d done a stellar job of hiding it, including taking me away to Malta for a week for my birthday, when he let me pay for absolutely nothing.

This was someone that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.  We were talking about our future just days before.  My whole world had caved in.  It was knowing that he was by my side that had helped me through the past months with the stress of work and my uncles diagnosis & death.  Now he wanted to leave.

That was 6 weeks ago.  He’s completely cut me out of his life.  I’ve spoken to him once during this time.  Going from speaking to someone every day, to them wanting absolutely nothing to do with you is heartbreaking to say the least.

I felt that our relationship was worth more than just throwing away, so I’ve emailed him.  I’ve had no response at all.

Am I bitter?  Probably, I haven’t yet got to that point.  Disappointed, maybe.  Amazed at this turn of events, for sure.  He’d hidden his feeling from me, but mentioned that one of his friends had ‘noticed he was unhappy’.  Never occurred to them to tell him to speak to me though apparently.

From what I can gather, the way that I’d handled my landlord/moving situation was the issue.  The fact that he’d had to put up money (I never asked this and I expressed my unhappiness about this), and the fact that ‘he’d had to sort everything out’.  Again, I’d never asked this, my landlord point blank refused to deal with me.

My partner knew everything about my finances, something that I have never been very good with, although I was sorting out various things in order for things to be better for our future.  I knew nothing about his, nor was I interested.  Earlier in our relationship I’d said that he would have to take care of anything like that, so it’s not unexpected that I can’t look after myself when it comes to such matters.

Anyway, I was dumped.  We didn’t split up, he dumped me.

I’ve not heard from any of the ‘friends’ I’d made whilst I’ve been living out here, and he’s made no effort to be in contact.

It’s almost as if he’s had one of those things they used in Men in Black to wipe your memory.

So these are the events that have led to 6 weeks (and counting) of the worst depression since I was diagnosed.  From about November 2015 – the beginning of April 2016.  My depression was building over this period, and then…well.  I’m here.

If you made it this far, please don’t feel sorry for me, don’t give me any cliche’s (honestly, I’ve heard them ALL!).  I’m sorry that it’s been such a long post, but it really helps get things straight in my own head to be able to ‘talk’ here.

I’ve broken this down into (at least) 2 parts, for my own sanity, and to make it less of a novel to read.

Maybe I should write a book!

So…

2016 got pretty crappy this past 2 weeks.

I’ll be honest, I’ve never been any good at adulting, I’ve never admitted any differently, but I try.  That’s got to be worth something, right?

Anyway, I’d been reassessing my life, and what I was getting out of it (or more to the point, what I could change to get more out of life).  I decided that paying over half of my earnings to a landlord that gave precisely zero fucks about me wasn’t how I wanted to live my life any more.  It was time to move on. I wanted to save for a future with my partner.  I want to make memories with him, and for us to have a good future.

So I did.  I started packing.  I discovered that my flat wasn’t actually overly expensive.  So what could I do?

As luck should have it, a friend was selling a caravan that had served her husband well whilst he was working away from home, as he was retired, they no longer had use for her.  So I now own ‘Tess’.

Anyway, it was my birthday last month.  I’d arranged a place to site my new home, paid a deposit, and we took Tess up to her new home.

The day before Iw as due to leave the country for a birthday away in Malta with my parents & my partner, I got a call from the site.  They didn’t want Tess there.  She ‘looks old’.  She is old.  She’s a 1990 Tabbert Comtesse 530.  Tabbert being a make favoured by travellers.  Basically, I’d been branded a pikey, but they couldn’t say that.

They offered a newer caravan that was being sold by someone else on the site, so we accepted (I needed somewhere to go, and we were told that the only problem was there was no hot water – could be fixed…).

So off we went to Malta for a week.  We spent time with my partners family who live over there, and it was wonderful to be able to forget the past few stressful months of work, and look forward to the future.  Saving so much money, I would finally be able to save for a good future with my partner.  Things were looking up!!

We arrived back in the UK, with Storm Katie doing her thing, but I was moving house.  Moving to my very own place!! HUZZAH!!!

Bank Holiday Monday – We drove up to the site.  We were super excited to see my new place!  Get my things in, and start making a home.

But no…things don’t go that way do they?! The van they had sold us was damp everywhere, it had mould growing on the carpet.  A mini flood in the battery cabinet.  It hadn’t even been cleaned before it was put in storage for the winter.  This was way worse than Tess!!

So we got the money back, but I was now homeless. 3 days of searching for a place to go seemed fruitless.  My partner had taken 2 days off work to help me.  I honestly don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been by my side.  We even visited a traveller site to check out the possibility of going there.

After seemingly endless searching, at 5pm on the Wednesday, we put Tess on her new pitch.  So I was no longer homeless!

I’d taken the past 2 days off work, so I told them my situation, explained that I had to get my things from my old flat the following day, but I’d be back in on the Friday.

So Thursday…I moved my things in, started organising.  Took a deep breath, felt relieved.  So much stress had been lifted (even though there was the matter of going to clean the old flat, but that could be done at the weekend no problem!).  A day of bustling and sorting, and I took myself off for tea.

As I was tucking into my amazing food, my partner called.  He came to meet me.  Straight away I knew something was wrong, and more or less forced him to tell me what the problem was.  After all, a problem shared, right?

My uncle had passed away.

Mick was diagnosed with cancer at Christmas.  I’d been finding it difficult to deal with, and had taken some time off work.  This was the family stuff I mentioned in my last post.

He passed away very suddenly at his home on that day.  My mum had called my partner as she didn’t want to have to tell me over the phone.

I spent the following day with my mum.  Coming home to my cats and my own place was lovely though.

Naturally, things started to get on top of me at this point.

I was told by a manager to ‘pull yourself together’, when she caught me having a cry to myself in the kitchen.

I’m facing disciplinary action at work for the time I’ve taken off.

On Friday last week, my partner decided to end our relationship.

This final thing is the one that’s got me the most.

I went to the doctor today, who prescribed plenty of self care.  So I got cream cakes for my lunch.  Hell, I’m happy if I can eat after losing so much weight over the past 2 weeks.  Don’t judge me!

All I can think of at this point is that I am so lucky to have friends that care about me, that check in with me regularly, and 2 cats who will happily stick their bums in my face when I am in bed.

I will say one thing though – My CBT helped me fend off negative thoughts I was having last week.  Turns out those thoughts were right, but I was able to ignore them at the time.  Kinda stuck in a negative thought loop now though.

 

But it’ll be ok.  It’s always ok, isn’t it?

 

Merry Christmas!

It’s been a while (again), for which I apologise.

I do hope you have all had a wonderful Christmas, I know it can be a particularly tough time for some, but I hope you’ve made it through unscathed.

So what has been going on in Bromyard?

In all honesty, not a huge amount really, which is sublime!

I got myself a little job in one of the pubs, which has helped me get over some of my anxieties, as well as helping me to meet some absolutely wonderful people.  I’ve made some real firm friends here, and I finally feel at peace.

I’ve been working through some tough shit, as a result of my time in Worcester, and have to say, as a result of my move, I’ve really found out who my true friends are.  The ones who will bother to ask how I am, without making me feel bad about nothing in particular.

My flat is really feeling like home, and I can invite people over without being embarrassed – I love to cook, so have had a few people round for dinner, though still not had a house warming yet…give it time!

I feel like I’m finally me again.  My time in Worcester started me on that journey, and I am ever thankful to those that helped me on my way, but I’ve moved on, and taken the next step all by myself.  I’m a very changed woman to the one that came out here in September.  I believe that is partly due to the people I have chosen to surround myself with.

I’ll always have fond memories of my time in Worcester, but I met people that were no good for me (and that occasionally still pop up to cause drama), but I’m past that now, and I hope to continue on my life journey with a smiling face and no unkind words – I’m out of them.

It’s now a case of upwards and upwards, and I’m looking forward to a new year.  I had my ctrl+alt+del moment when I moved out here, and I’ve been adding items to the recycle bin ever since.  It’s been cathartic, and made me happier.

I feel calmer, more happy, and stronger.  I know now that not all the crappy things tough that’s not to say that I am totally free of blame, circumstances made me a hard person to get along with sometimes.  But I also know I can hold my head up and say ‘I have no regrets’.  No one is perfect, and I think that’s something we should all learn.

For now, I shall wish you festive greetings, and hope that you have a wonderful new year.  I will also try to keep this little place updated more often, who knows what may appear in the coming weeks & months?!

All my love,

Widdles xxx

It’s been a while…

The last few months have been a huge struggle for various reasons, and I’ve been pretty quiet lately due to a number of reasons.  Needless to say, things are really starting to fall into place, FINALLY!!

I’ve moved out of Worcester to Bromyard (have a look on Google Maps).  A move that I felt was particularly important.  The past year in Worcester has been full of ups and downs.  Yes I have some absolutely wonderful memories, but there is also a lot of anxiety associated with the place.

I’m now settled into my new flat, which already feels like a home (one thing my last flat never had).  I’ve also met some absolutely wonderful people here already (I’ve been here 2 weeks) and feel like this really is the start of a new chapter in my life.

I finally got the doctor to mess about with my meds, and they seem to be doing the trick too.  So far so good.  It’s still one day at a time, but I feel I am really starting to get properly better.

I feel I have wrapped things up in Worcester, I’ve made mistakes, and I have also apologised for them.  Anything else is not in my hands, and that is ok.  People do what they do.  I spent too much time being hung up on things that were totally out of my control, and those that will bog off at the drop of a hat, probably aren’t the best of friends anyway.

I have to say huge thank you’s to all my true friends that have supported me in my move out here – it is only 20 minutes away, not the end of the earth and I hope I will be seeing you all again very soon!  Bromyard is a lovely place, really chilled out and I really do feel at home here and part of the community already.  I don’t feel at all out of place, or lonely – which was something I always felt in Worcester.

All in all, things are going fantastically well right now.  I’ll let you know when the house warming is xxx