Zodiac Gemstones (and yes, feel free to mock; I already am doing myself)

I am really, truly, properly hilariously drunk.

I’m not proud of myself, I might add. However, it really does the job when the rest of my life is turning to shit. Drunk makes the annoying small bits and pieces of my soul make more sense than it ever used to, so I’ll go with it, at least for now.

And so I watch a beloved TV programme and adore every single moment of it, even when I understand very little. It is so much fun. I am busy and all of the things I have cared about are suddenly relevant.

Like: I used to be a total nerd about gemstones. I know my stones, my partner’s. I know zodiac signs. Of course it is all total bollocks, but I sometimes clutch rose quartz to my heart and breathe my sister’s name and believe, pray, hope, that she remembers me; not the obvious stone, but the complex. I remember her, and I love her, and one day she will remember.

And if she doesn’t, then it is nothing. I will forget. She will forget. It is nothing, I am nothing to her. My sister will never understand the significance of the stone she polished in her rock polisher when she was a child, and I will never confess to the fragments I hold and remember, the weird and stupid and impossible and false things she (and I) remember because it’s not real, because it isn’t there.

Because love and faith and magic are utterly different things. They do not all exist. They are not all real. They are not there.

I only have what I hold, what I remember.

And that is enough, because it has to be.

It has to be.

It is enough.


Body Image

Struggling with weight and body image things, but otherwise alright; I want to sleep for a long time, and wake up two stone lighter without all of my self-esteem issues. Wouldn’t that be lovely. Wouldn’t that be absolutely fucking amazing.

Sorry. Not feeling great. I’ll get better.


Because being female sucks, spent a lot of the day sofa-bound and feeling very sorry for myself. Achieved very little, but hey ho. I am still going to the gym and being really good with that, so at least that’s something.

Living with my parents is hard. I am a lot older than I was when I lived at home, and I’m a very different person – yet not much has changed. It’s really, really weird. I’m looking forward to spending the weekend with just my partner, some time to ourselves.

Other than that, not much to report…

Quiet Day

Very quiet day, probably for the best. Went to the gym, did some more writing, had a bath. Generally remaining very low-key and trying not to get myself freaked about my future or life or whatever, which happens remarkably often these days.

Had a completely useless ‘work focused interview’ for ESA, too. The woman conducting the talk freely admitted it was a waste of time, as I a) have a job I will be getting back to when I can and b) have only been out of hospital a week, so going back to work isn’t likely for a while yet!

So keeping on keeping on. And hopefully will be able to actually do things when I eventually go back to aerial…


I love my mother.

We get on like a house on fire, and I mean it: destructive, contagious and impossible to prevent. I wish I was more like her, and also not. It’s amazing and awful and perfect.

When I was younger, I was her ‘clone’, according to everybody who knew us both. I have become my father far more, now, and I’m delighted about it: he’s the best storyteller I’ll ever know, and he makes me smile constantly. He’s kind, loving, gentle.

My mother is personality incarnate. She has force and unending intensity. My mother backs down from nothing.

I hope I became both. My dad’s perfectionism, my mum’s anger, my dad’s stubbornness, my mum’s passion. I don’t know any more, but I hope, and I will always try to emulate the best of them both. I’ll get there. In the meanwhile, I can only do what I can, and hopefully not alienate either.

Never gets easier.

A Successful Weekend!

Back to my parents, and have had a wonderful weekend with friends who (bemusingly) genuinely seem to like me. And my partner doesn’t want to knock me out with a spanner, so I’m going to tentatively assume I managed a social situation without behaving like a total knob.

A new week. I’m trying to learn how to assert my needs and enjoy what I do, with variable degrees of success. Small things with my partner, my parents. Things like where we’re going to move to when we do, what we want for our lives. I am trying to be strong.

I am tired. I am really tired. It’s a depression thing. I know it is. The weekend has completely exhausted me; I was with friends for the duration, new people happened, travelling happened. People in general exhaust me at the moment. Occupational hazard of only being a week out of inpatient, too, but there we have it.

It’s okay. I’ll be okay. It just takes a bit of time.

Inescapably Ill

I’m always happy when I have friends around. Especially those who know what I am currently going through and are both able and willing to support me.

Today only got tricky because I was drinking. Not very much, I might add. I also was not drinking solo. However, my partner was a touch over vigilant, and my beloved friends then got rather vigilant too. It’s not a big thing, in many regards, but it isn’t spoken aloud. I see the lack of trust in my friend drinking what was left in my glass, with pointed questions from my partner and eyes on the back of my head. I can’t even get upset because it’s for all the right reasons.

I just wish it didn’t feel quite so much like a fundamental lack of trust. And the constant reminder that I’m not like everyone else. I’m ill. And I can’t escape it.