Trip 7, Day nine and home

I found it really hard to get to sleep, despite his love and care on our last night.

I woke at 4am. Someone had gone to the bathroom and (I say this with absolutely no shame) thinking it was Wildcard, purposefully got up to go myself.

I was correct and rewarded with him coming to sleep with me. We held each other for the remaining hours of the night, and he reached for my hand in our embrace, every part of us locked together. Precious moments.

When we heard his parents stirring at 6am, he snuck out, a bemused look on his face as he made the dash out the door. I think we’d both be stupid to think his parents don’t suspect or know we are intimate. He is certainly much more careful about rules when his Dad is around though.

I finished packing then went out to the lounge to sit with him. I choked down a breakfast I had no stomach to eat then went back to my room. He didn’t follow.

Agter a time, I went back out and he was in his place on the couch. This time, he opened his arm and beckoned me to lie next to him, not at his feet end as normal.

I know he was concerned with my silence and my occasional tears. I can’t help it.

At 7.30am, we both got up to get changed and he hugged and kissed me through my tears, reminding me that this was not the last time we would see each other. I, unfortunately, know only too well that no one knows what life is in store.

By the time we had got to the airport, his emotional armour was back on. Whilst not cold, his demeanour had changed. He was beinf positive, keeping it together. He told me he loved me, again, out loud and to my face. This has been one of the major developments of this trip. He always messages it, says it on the phone at the end of a call, but I can count only maybe two times previously – and likely only one – where he has actually said it to my face. This trip, he’s said it many times.

I feel numb. Dead inside. I can’t even tell you that my mind is working overdrive, because it’s not. I do think however that I have much to discuss with my counsellor. As before, my emotions have swung like a pendulum. It needs to be sorted. I need clarity, not excessive thinking and overpowering emotions.

As suggested by my Facebook Bestie, I have written him a letter. It’s short and to the point: thanks him for his love, shares my own; apologises for the crying but suggests I may cry less if I knew when I was next going; reiterated my career advice but also said that I wished we had talked about our future too. I hid the letter in a pile of my drawings in his room but told him about it on the way. I wonder if he can understand my writing, never mind its language.

****

It’s now early Monday morning and I’m home. I got home late – 13 hours of travelling in the end.

I spent most of the journey home thinking of him. I always do. I guess Tolle would call that living in the past. Would he accept my reason for it? Because in that moment, reliving it- replaying moments of it over and over again – that’s what kept me together. Music on, I stared at the passing trees, fields…life, and in my mind I was back with him and those soft kisses and the feel of his hand in mine.

The word ‘missing’ isn’t enough.

He called me a few times and I just felt overjoyed at seeing him. This time yesterday I was still with him.

Will he feel it this morning too? The sense of feeling like you’ve put on an old pair of slippers – back to your normal life, whilst your heart yearns for what is missing.

Yes, maybe yearning is the better word.

Will he regret that I am not there this morning, turning to see him as he opens the door, hair dishevelled? Will he wish that he was sliding in to bed to kiss me, before wrapping his arms and legs around me, and just holding me. Making me feel so safe and warm and loved. Will he miss that too?

Will he yearn and long for me, as I am for him?

Nothing else seems important. All I want is him.

Trip 7, Day eight

Last night we argued. It removed a fear that has plagued me for 3 years. It was uncomfortable for a little while but we soon were back to normal.

What we didn’t talk about, and I wish I had, was a conversation about the future which he brought up. He was talking about his career prospects and asking my opinion, telling me I was the only one he could talk to.

That I loved, and I was objective as I could be. I told him that thinking about doing something was often worse than the doing. He’d told me that he hated making decisions and hated change. Don’t I know it.

What I didn’t love was that I was not one of the options we discussed. Granted, we were talking career, but some of the options mentioned would not encourage him to come to me any sooner. It was like a hot knife of pain in my chest. What does Tolle say? Don’t focus on the future. Really hard not to when you desired future seems to have dismissed you some what.

Short conclusion to that: I couldn’t look him in the face and brought up something else as an excuse for my behaviour which then caused the disagreement. Great stuff.

This morning, despite all being well by bed time (he locked me to him on the sofa and wouldn’t let me go until late), he didn’t come to me. Which was really unfortunate, as I’d had a bad dream, woke up knowing it was the last day and we’d had that dusagreement…I needed those morning embraces more than anything. I didn’t get them. He had to rush to work.

This afternoon there have been plenty of hugs. My mind is on overdrive, though. I’m trying to Tolle it out but it’s not working so well.

****

It’s now midnight.

It’s been a weird day of high emotion. I suppose that isn’t surprising. We cuddled for most of the day. I was bored and frustrated a little but it was more about being uncomfortable about leaving than anything else. Again, digging deep to the real feelings is helping.

After dinner, I lay on the bed. I was putting off packing my case and even now it’s barely done. He’d been washing something but came in and shut the door.

We lay on the bed, hugging and then had sweet sweet kisses – real kisses. The kisses he won’t give me often because they always lead to something. Which they did. It was beautiful, connected love making which was so special. It was tender and loving and a moment I will never forget.

We showered and then relaxed some more. It was a weird evening in some ways as I was so on edge. I got jealous over something he showed me which is nothing new. He annoyed me when he wouldn’t answer a question which he had asked me earlier and I had answered, but at least it made me leave him to half pack.

When I came back, I put my back to him it what can only be called a childish move. He tapped my shoulder to show me something on his phone and told me if I followed the instructions, I would see someone who loved me. It was one of those trick of the eye things and yes, weirdly, it did look like him. He was quickly forgiven after that romantic gesture.

We drank tea and then a programme came on which we all began to watch. Luckily for me there were French subtitles and my A level French came in useful a little as I was able to understand quite a bit. It was funny and his mother watched it with us. Wildcard told me what was going on too which helped.

What I loved was the way he sat with me. Normally, he lies on the sofa, head at the corner, and I sit feet end. His feet are often in my lap and I love it as it feels intimate without breaking cultural protocol. But this time he moved so he was sat right next to me, leaning on the same cushion. Respect means we couldn’t be too close but I’d argue that we broke that a little. It was, again, a romantic gesture and another moment I won’t forget.

As soon as it finished and his mum left, he tickled me senseless. Then after tidying up, time for bed.

As always, he came in to check on me and ask if I needed anything and to say goodnight. His kisses and hugs were lovely. And when he walked away, quickly came back when he sensed my tears.

And here I am. In the queue, waiting for the plane. Trip 7 is practically over: just a flight and a few train journeys then I’m home.

Trip 7, Day seven

Last night, a thunderstorm clouded the sky and sent beautifully dramatic streaks of lightning across the sky. I don’t know whether it’s because I was on the third floor or because there is less light pollution here or even the fact there are less trees than home, but the sky was spectacular. And for once it wasn’t me making a storm.

I didn’t wake at a silly hour this morning either but that’s often the way when I’m here. It seems to take me quite a few days to settle- in every sense of the word. That’s part of the reason that a week never seems enough. Or maybe it’s the long gap in between. I’m not sure.

I woke at gone 7am. I washed and went back to bed. I could have fallen back to sleep but I’m conscious in a few days I will be back to work… I can hardly believe it.

I felt morose this morning. One of the things my reading has taught me, and I’m working on, is taking time to scan your body. Where are the feels? What emotion is creating them? Today’s moroseness is not something self-imposed from my overactive and demanding mind. No, It’s just genuine sadness that my time here is coming to an end. I can say that with all confidence because I’m beginning to see how true sadness feels different to the imposed sadness of my mind.

This morning’s kisses were firm and loving and repeated. I think he’s feeling it too.

We had our usual morning routine of bed and hugs and phone but when I tried to move away, he pulled my face back down to his chest. So I happily complied. There were more kisses from him too, snatched between videos. And then he showered my face with kisses like a firework going off – sparks of lips and beard all over my face. He told me after that I was to no longer as for kisses as he was now in credit by a thousand.

I can’t explain the pure joy that emanates from my solar plexus when he comes home. I feel like my whole world lights up when I see his face, and hear his voice.

In the evening, he took me out to a cafe – the one he took me to that very first night I came here, over three years ago. Unfortunately, it didn’t go as well this time.

Trip 7, Day six

It's actually the morning of Day Six now. Last night I struggled to finish this post and I'm still struggling now.

I trying to be positive. I'm trying to not dwell on the negative, on my fears and insecurities.

It all seems heightened here. I think because I have nothing else to do, nothing else to consume my time but thoughts of him. I'm over-analysing everything: taking the temperature of his love so frequently that the readings are false and confusing. So is the love life of an anxious person, I guess.

I am relaxed. I am happy. But I'm also unsettled still, a thread of doubts running through my day. I'm looking for my voice in all this, like my counsellor told me, but I can't find her at all.

²There are so many voices in my head. Some tell me he doesn't love me enough. Some say he's not making an effort. Some say this is real life, every day. Some say I should live in the now and enjoy every second: this is what I long for when I am at home, just to be with him. Some say my expectations and romantic inclinations are too high. Some say he has shown his love and care again and again.  Some say he will never love me like I love him, and I should walk away.

I don't know how to find my voice. I don't know how to find the truth. And I hate myself for it. I hate my negativity. I hate my indecision and overthinking. I hate that I may, once again, be ruining something wonderful. But I also hate the idea that I may be living a lie, wishing and waiting for something that will never be. Most of all, I hate that my head is full and I can't see the truth for all the noise.

So, that was this morning, early – before he’d come in.

I sensed there I was spiralling and so I got out Tolle and went straight to the relationship part:

Everything he said there is so true. Wildcard is not abusive or unkind or disloyal. Whilst no one is perfect and yes, he makes minor mistakes, it’s my own needs that are causing the issues.

A way that’s helped me see this, is by really thinking about my triggers and how this links to the bigger picture. What I get upset with him for is usually a bigger indication of my own internal demons than his. A sobering thought.

So I was a little surprised when he came in so early – I was still reading. He came to bed, wrapped his arm around me, and the phone came out as usual. But I was ok with it. I focused on his body being near mine and how wonderful that was. Before long, the phone was away, and he held me as he fell asleep again, and I loved every second. Appreciated every second.

On this high, I continued to read today, finishing Tolle and starting on “Homecoming”. I felt wonderful joy after completing the book and look forward to similar with Bryant’s work.

I feel like my brighter outlook was rewarded as he actually managed to come home early! We spent a relaxing afternoon, laughed and ate a good dinner. He tickled me until I screamed with laughter and then made beautiful love to me . And in a way, I felt like I’d been rewarded by letting my light shine – by dismissing the negative, he was able to shine also.

Does that make sense?

Trip 7, Day five

I awoke at 4.30am to the sound of a howling dog in pain.

Trouble was, I then couldn’t get back to sleep.

I’ve been paid for the first time from my school. It’s not a great wage. A number of things could have affected that: it may not be a full month depending on when their cut off date is; my tax could still be wrong; my SEN payment may not have been added. I also need to remember that as I now get holiday pay, this is no longer calculated into my daily allowance. It still seems low though and even when I put the figures through an online calculator, I’m about £400 down.

This morning when Wildcard came in, I got my accustomed kiss but no hug which I immediately called him out on. He then asked me how I’d slept and I told him the truth: after waking at 4.30am I’d struggled to get back to sleep.

I’d thought about money and work. And I’d thought about him. It was rather indulgent of me: Tolle’s work centres around not thinking about the future. But it’s hard not to, particularly at that time of night.

He of course asked me why I didn’t sleep and I, of course, refused to tell him. Why? Because nothing good comes from repeatedly airing my fears to him. We both know what they are. I’ve learnt my lesson here too, from the past. Talking about my fears in our relationship does nothing but put a black cloud over our week. So I kept quiet.

He asked me, over and over and over again. And I didn’t tell him. I know it is triggering his own anxiety. Despite being closed off in many ways, 3.5 years of being his has taught me something. He will worry about what I was thinking about and I don’t want that. But his silent wonderings are better than an atmosphere and hurt caused by my words. So, I stayed silent.

This morning, he opened his arms so I could rest my face in the place where his neck meets his shoulders, whilst he played his game. And then, I decided to play too, my own way. Living in the now, in the moment, caressing and kissing his body: showing my love.

This is something else I’ve learned. For all his bravado, he is as self conscious about his body as I am of mine. Women, we are stupid if we believe otherwise. He is masculine and beautiful with a dark, hairy chest and stomach and I just love it. He says he looks like a monkey. I say he is masculine and sexy and handsome. He repeats that he looks like a monkey. See what I mean? So I touch and caress and kiss so he knows how much I love every last millimetre of his body just as I love every single fragment of light that is his soul. I love him my way, show him, give to him.

After he holds me and I tell him I love him. He says, “I love you too.”

But then it’s breakfast and it’s time for him to go to work. He asks if I need anything, and I point at him. He then jokes that he will just leave work and sit next to me every day then. I tell him that he asked a question and I answered with the truth. He blows me an elaborate kiss as he walks out the door.

So here I am, with a full head and a full heart and an empty day.

********

And that’s that. I’m half way through my trip.

My day consisted of washing clothes, listening to a few podcasts, sunbathing of sorts and watching Queen Charlotte again. And missing Wildcard of course.

It was a long day and he didn’t get home until 6pm. I was so glad to see him and I think he was glad to see me too.

He was tired and so again, I just tried to let him relax. He sensed my restlessness though.

So, I tell the truth: I’m waiting for him.

“Waiting for you to be relaxed.”

“Waiting for me to be relaxed? Why?”

“Well, then you might be ready to talk to me or something.”

“Talk to you about what?”

And with my final, ‘I don’t know’, that was that.

Moments later, he was on the verge of sleeping and I can’t blame him. Working solidly in the heat for those long hours, he must be exhausted.

By the time I’d come out of the bathroom however, pondering what to do with myself, I saw he’d moved to the bedroom. So we lay, limbs entwined, whilst he relaxed and we watched things on his phone.

******

It’s actually Day Six now. I couldn’t finish that post yesterday.

I actually tried to finish it in the early hours of the morning. But I acknowledged that I’d let myself descend into negativity and overthinking, whilst proclaiming I hadn’t.

I’ve spent the time since Wildcard went to work reading the rest of Tolle and writing a reflection. I’ve brought myself round.

And so… back to last night.

We spent the evening on the bed, legs wrapped around each other. He continued on his phone. Sometimes I watched with him, sometimes I focused on the feel of his hand in mine. At one point, he played a game where he wouldn’t hold my hand, instead, resting his fingers on the back of my hand. The more I squirmed to hold his hand, the more he moved back to his position. It made me laugh.

We made love. He teased me with that too: seemingly focused on his phone whilst apparently absent mindedly loving me to a frenzy. Afterwards, I again let my fear add fuel to his simple words and triggered me into a reaction he couldn’t understand. We were on different wavelengths and my overthinking and fear took me there.

This man loves me. He knows my head is negative. He knows I overthink and I worry. Yet he’s still here. He loves me anyway.

Now, right now, I surrender to my current fears. I accept that I have them. I see them. But in seeing them and accepting them, they’re no longer who I am. They are a separate entity. And that’s what Day Six will work on.

Trip 7, Day four

It’s been a lazy day today.

Wildcard has been working all day, and working until late. I missed him to the depths of my core and kept checking the clock until he was home.

Unfortunately, he’s told me that he will have to work these hours for the next couple of days. That’s a real disappointment. He told me that he was arguing with his colleague about it this morning. There’s nothing to be done however. It is what it is. His colleague proclaims that Wildcard didn’t specify he was also busy in the week, just the weekends. Wildcard feels he knew he was busy.

Either way, long days without him. If I was feeling negative, I could say that it is actually easier with an ocean between us. But I’m being positive. So I will be grateful for my mornings and my evenings.

The hard part is knowing what to do with myself when he gets home.

He always comes over for a kiss: pressing his lips to mine firmly, holding the touch just long enough. In that exact moment, I’m satisfied. And then he pulls away.

Oh I’m so demanding! And yet I try so hard not to be. I’m laughing internally at the audacity of myself and my expectations. No, that’s not right – I don’t expect it. I long for it.

I just want him near. But he’s an adult human being- he’s been in work all day. He goes about his evening like any other working man: gets changed and washed, lies on the couch to relax whilst he waits for dinner.

And I understand that. I give him space. I sit a little way from him and he plays his game or watches something and I just wait. I tell myself, “this is real life honey, not some fairytale”. But the yearning I have inside, just to be close and touching! It’s not even desire for sex although I can’t pretend it isn’t that either. It’s just desire for him. I just want him and feel so dissatisfied as I sit and wait my turn in what is a completely acceptable and normal situation. I know that I’m being unreasonable, but I can’t help myself.

Because I start to feel frustrated. I start thinking stupid things. And the longer the status quo continues, the more stupid my mind gets. I’ve learnt that this simple, normal situation triggers something in me. And if I’m not careful, those thoughts and fears dominate my mind and my emotions erupt.

As I am trying to be a positive being, I will say this. I am fighting it and working on it. I am conscious of it and the unreasonable nature of my feelings. And so this time, whilst I can’t pretend those feelings don’t exist, they have been more under control than in the previous trips.

After a little while, I got up to take my medicine. Within minutes, he had followed me.

Trip 7, Day three

I’m sat at the window of Wildcard’s apartment. The window is open and so I am getting to experience every sensation of being in his country. 1 I can feel the breeze on my skin. I can smell the spicy-dustyness of his country, and the smell of food cooking from the restaurant far below. I can hear cars and the sounds of a language I can no longer describe as foreign, even though I don’t understand it. People mill about outside, wearing their traditional dress, and the cafe over the road is slowly getting busier.

It feels like home.

Yesterday was a beautiful, loved-filled day of relaxing and sleeping and intimacy and laughing. I could see and hear and feel his love for me. It’s as real as the phone I’m currently holding in my hands.

This morning, he came to me as always – my favourite time of the day. He held me in the early morning light and I soaked in every sensation of being close to him – his breath on my neck; the prickle-tickle of his beard on my skin; all the parts of our body which were pressed together; the rhythmic sound of his breath as he dozed.

Apparently last night he had bad dreams of being chased by dogs. I don’t even want to begin to analyse that.

And that is a key component of this trip, and even bigger than that, my recovery/rediscovery. I’m not going to think.

My mum recently cast some doubt on to the effectiveness of my counsellor. She said I shouldn’t be feeling quite as bad as I have been. I think the counsellor is helping. I feel a purge but as with any wound, even when the badness is out of it, it needs to heal. What she’s not so great at doing is giving me strategies. When I asked her how to be more positive, how to turn down the noise of other voices in my head, her reply was “you’ll have to keep trying things – perhaps the self-help books you are reading?”

I think this is her youth and inexperience coming through. My deep seated issues are probably more than she’s dealt with and she’s learning. I am not criticising her. Maybe by having this experience, she too will grow. But, I went to her for help therefore, I’ve got to do something. I’ve got to keep trying.

So, on my trip, I have brought Eckhart Tolle’s “Practising The Power of Now” with me and I plan to read some every day. I also downloaded a couple of Mel Robbins’ podcasts to listen to on the flight.

One of them…wow. I listened with eager anticipation and even made notes. As it ended, I felt tears come to my eyes. It was as if that podcast was written just for me.

Mel’s guest was a renowned Psychologist Dr Thema Bryant, and her book is called Homecoming. And joy of joys, I’ve just discovered when trying to find out how to spell her name, that her book is currently free on audible as part of a month’s free trial.

Everything she described – that feeling of being lost and disconnected – summed up how I feel. And her advice was simple yet astounding. I can’t wait to listen to the rest.

But, to put it simply, I’m just not thinking. I’m being present, enjoying the now, this moment with no expectation and no fear.

Mel Robbin’s newsletter today was equally good. She has promoted the theory of ‘Let them’. This links in with everything Bryant and Tolle appear to be saying: we live our own lives, our own existence and sense of Being. We can’t demand it all our own way, all the time.

With all this, so far – and dare I say it – Day 3 wobbles are not even a hint of a threat at present.

Wish me luck.

Trip 7, Day one (and two) – the positive one

And so, following on from my last post, here’s to positivity!

I arrived in London safely. Unfortunately, despite my scouring, I hadn’t really found anything wanted to do in the free time I had.

Yes yes, that sounds a bit weird since I was visiting the capital. But most of the tourist places I wanted to go to would have been unavailable by the time I arrived, and the rest I wanted to visit when I had my children with me.

So, instead, I braved a new, previously unexplored underground route and went to Oxford Circus and to one of the major shopping streets in London:

And whilst you could argue that most of these shops are also up north, the fact that I braved them and wandered around on my own in what I can only describe as a stampede, well I think I should be praised. So, well done me.

I bought nothing. Ah well.

I contemplated eating somewhere but everywhere was so busy…gluten…nah.

I headed back to the underground and made my way to the hotel.

It’s amazing how confident I now am with this. I remember my first trip to London 10 years ago, feeling totally lost and bewildered by the underground. Whilst it’s definitely true that manners down here are different to those up north, its not as bad as I once imagined. Whilst one slightly crazed Londoner was ranting all over the train, another caught my eye from the other end of the train, rolled his eyes, and smiled at me .

It’s 3.48am. I had planned to wake at 4am but it turns out that I wasn’t able to do that.

Premier Inn has the most amazingly comfortable beds so it wasn’t anything to do with that – you know me, I can’t sleep when I have stuff on my mind.

I’m aiming to be at the airport for 5am in the hope that I have a smooth check in before my 7am flight.

*****

5.54am and I’m now sat in the lounge, waiting for my gate number.

Security was a bit hairy – I can’t believe how busy it was! – as my suitcase was checked for the first time. As I waited my turn, I wracked my brain, thinking what I could possibly have left in my suitcase: I’m a seasoned pro now! In the end, it was the gluten free flour. In 3.5 years, it’s the first time someone has checked it.

I’m feeling the first fluttering of nerves and excitement and anticipation. Would you think me weird if I told you that I’m trying not to think of him?

I’m now sat on the plane, waiting to taxi to the runway. The butterflies are now a full ballet troup pirrouetting in my stomach.

*****

My first day was just…wonderful.

From holding my hand in the car whilst waiting for his parents, to kisses and affection and hugs, to flirting and passionate intimacy: he’s shown me that he has missed me and loves me.

Happy happy day.

Trip 7, Day one

I made it! I’m on the train, waiting to head down to London. There were so many times this week where I thought I wouldn’t make it. Or even go.

A lot of what we have discussed in counselling- and regular WordPress friends will already know – is that I don’t trust myself. I have so many ‘voices’ in my head: different interpretations, opinions, versions that I don’t know what to believe or trust.

A lot of that has come through the trauma of what happened in my work and the entrance of the devil academy. They destroyed my faith in who I am and what I am capable of. For two years – and I can hardly believe it’s been that long – I’ve been fighting with the pervading lack of confidence and belief in myself. I want to believe the truth of who I am but can’t. I was – am – lost.

This then affects every decision, every relationship. If I can’t trust myself, there is no way I can trust them. I see the worst because the worst was thrown at me and it destroyed who I thought I was.

So, I’m on the train.

I’m on the train even though my children and my sister don’t want me to be.

I’m on the train even though a part of me doubts Wildcard’s feelings and commitment.

I’m on the train, even though I’m scared it’s the wrong decision.

Those are all voices, guilt, thoughts running in my head. They’re the reason I woke at 5.30am. The reason anxiety still plagues my head.

But, there’s another voice.

A voice that tells me how exciting it is to travel and that I am going to see the man I love. A voice that reminds me that I work very hard, I try to be the best person I can, and I deserve this trip. A voice that reminds me that people don’t want me to go because they love me, not because they want me to be unhappy. A voice that whispers that it’s ok to be scared but it’s better to be brave: to think about the enjoyment of now instead of being scared about what may be.

My counsellor talks about the radio in my head. She says there are lots of channels – some negative, some positive. Some channels are actually the voices and opinions of others. One of them is me: the real me. I need to find that channel and turn it up.

I fear that when I write on here, you’re not always hearing my channel. You’re hearing the fearful channel, the worst case scenario channel, the anxiety channel.

I need to find my voice, my spirit: the one who is happy to be alive, proud of my achievements, content with who I am. The voice that is positive and joyful and free.

I hope you get to meet her too.

Counselling hangovers

It’s been a tough week. Again.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the first week of my son’s GCSE exams. He’s ill prepared with a steely determination not to revise. He’s anxious and dealing with the third ADHD medication this month.

And whatever his teachers think, underneath the bravado is a child who knows he’s messed up and it’s probably too late to do anything. He’s admitted as much before – “I’ve given up and will just try in college”. Heartbreaking for a child with so much knowledge and ability. It’s what I’ve feared for years. So, hardly surprising this week hasn’t been good. Admittedly, it’s got to the point where I dread checking my phone, a wave of nausea hitting me, as I wonder how many messages he’s sent me and how he’s reacting.

I really don’t know if counselling is helping. I know it’s early days and I welcome the encouragement I’ve received: I know that I need to give it longer. The problem is, I’m finding it’s just bringing everything negative to the surface. Maybe that’s the point of counselling: a purging of the poison. Clear out the system. However, it just feels like a black cloud following me round all week. The feeling that I’m just not good enough for anything or anyone.

This week, I’ve had a row with my sister (a rare event) and I’ve been feeling generally negative about everything and everyone… but most of all, about myself.

I’ve been writing this post for days. I keep adding bits, removing bits. Mainly, I hoped this would change and I would be able to post something positive.

Not yet, my friends. Not yet. The hangover continues.