I know, I know, I’ve let myself down (again). I haven’t posted anything for 5 months. That’s nearly half a year (sounds longer when you put it like that), when it was only a short while ago last year I was giving myself a jolly good pat on the back as to how committed I’d been to myself in starting something and ACTUALLY continuing with it consistently. I’ve been notoriously ADHD most of my adult life starting things and not finishing or tending to have an acutely short mindset being able to flit from one thing to the next in the blink of an eye, particularly so over the last decade when life began to unravel and dismantle. Perhaps that’s what childhood trauma does when it twists you and fragments you at a cellular level, so much so that you can’t seem to gather yourself together resolutely in one direction. But I’m not going to eat my words or sit here with egg on my face for letting myself down, neither am I going to allow myself to feel like a let down. Why should I? That’s one thing I’ve learned from therapy is self-compassion. Why should I be a bitch to myself when there’s a million and one bastards in the world wanting to pull you down…
In case you’re wondering I hadn’t forgotten about the fact that I hadn’t posted anything and it has been burning a hole in my psyche. There’s no excuses but I have been both busy and pre-occupied with extracting myself from my toxic surroundings, from circumstances which aggravate my trauma, stalls my healing and takes away my peace. Although I may not have been documenting my journey publicly, my healing has by no means taken a back seat, in fact it’s had front row seats with a supersized portion of popcorn with a side helping of nachos lathered with guacamole. The good news is that not all is lost. The past five months haven’t been a complete undocumented washout. The truth is I’ve been sending myself thought notes in secret for the past 5 months. No not through the post or by carrier pigeon but good old Whatsapp. Yes, strangley enough I’ve been Whatsapping myself thought notes all this time, messages to myself when I’ve needed to emotionally offload in the silence and solace of my own company, in between the active extraction of myself from my toxic surroundings and making decisions based on thriving, something I’m getting used to doing.
Making these decisions for my life has given me a new found energy and it’s with this energy that I’m able to write again on here. I didn’t have the life in me to sit down and blog. My WA thought notes were an inspired godsend slumped on the sofa one evening: a quick and cathartic way for me to capture thought processes occupying my mind and triggers that metaphorically and obtrusively punched me in the gut (without having to inconveniently rush to my laptop to try and fire off a new blog or deformed blob of clay sitting in the drafts file). I didn’t even want to touch my computer most of the time and my home felt very toxic after months of legal warfare and the messy aftermath. I didn’t even want to be in the house most of the time – I just wanted to run away. After all my head goes with me everywhere I go; I didn’t have to be sat in front of a computer to capture what I was feeling. That period of my life has definitely healed – it no longer brings tears to my eyes thinking about it. Perhaps that is the sign of healing, when a period of your life no longer creates an inner well of emotion? There was too much going on for me last year, personally and professionally, on one hand trying to heal and on the other, dealing with the stress of other people’s unecessary shit that was thrown my way; it’s the two of these things conflating which resulted in me being slumped in adrenal fatigue, up and down with depression and unable to cope with the smallest of things as reading an email, which is why I hadn’t written, not because I didn’t want to but because I couldn’t scrape myself up off the floor and gather myself together. My creativity had been squeezed out of me and the well was dry. In between frantically tidying and decorating to get my house on the market, much of the time during the last 5 months was spent feeling quite dejected and depressed, vegge’d out in front of the TV most evenings, losing myself in make believe; goes without saying blogging was the last thing on my mind.
I have to say that 2025 was a shitty fucking year, a cesspit of other people’s myopic, narcissistic drama and being pulled into it, dealing with adult children tantrums and drama which ended up as legal battle which I dealt with a litigant in person, and in the process, losing 6+ months of my life and stifling my soul. Even a friend of mine echoed the same telling me that 2025 was the worst year I’d had since she’d known me (second to the emotional rollercoaster with The Narc which was partly self-inflicted – I chose to stay for as long as I did). I was debilitated by the after-effects of warfare, planted alone on a metaphoric battlefield for months, which was the antithesis to my healing journey. Following those months I was mentally worn to the nub and an emotional wreck. From around June 2025, I drowned with bouts of depression, constant anxiety and the inability to cope with anything or move on with my life, scraping myself off the floor in a soggy, stressy mess of self pity and mental isolation. What usually triggered me was feelings of being unsupported, unappreciated, unvalued and alone, and unfortunately it was mainly my personal life that I found to be the main trigger when I felt like I was surplus to requirement and that no one really cared.
2025 was the year that also made me realise that some people, no matter what you do for them are fickle, fake fuckwits and halfwits, with short and selective memories who have zero appreciation for what you did for them or went through. Most people are self-serving, ego-centric, selfish idiots who are happy to keep letting the government shaft them whilst they go around in a waking-sleep state stupor of me, myself and I, thinking and believing they are living a life, unconscious of the low level of being they really are, unconscious and devoid of any conscience whilst sitting infront of the TV filling their face with Wotsits. I’ll take a breath now. You cannot bring these people up to your level; the only option is to ignore or come down to their low level. Fortunately, the biggest thing I learned last year is the magical art of patience, being withdrawn and saying sweet FA. I’ve learned that the less you say, is the more you say; that weaponised silence is very loud and as sharp as a sword, something that I’m not used to but realised that situations can play right into your hands the less you say. And thereby situations and drama that people create resolving themselves because you had the silence to advocate the matter for you. Silence isn’t a sign of weakness which is what I’ve always considered it to be, that if i’m not fighting back then by virtue, I’m being weak. Wrong. Very, very wrong. I’ve learned silence a steely wall of inner strength. It’s taken me half a century to learn this. But better late than never.
Anyway, that’s a very short synopsis of last year which caught up with me at Christmas as an abcessed tooth (OUCHHHHH!!!) that I ended up herbally self medicating as no dentist is open on Christmas Eve. Yes unbelieveably I did cure it myself and I still have my lovely tooth 🙂 Besides, two weeks laid up on the sofa watching every crappy Christmas movie from morning till night actually was the best medicine ever. Doing nothing was what my mind and body needed, just pure and simple rest, and apart from debilitating jaw ache, face ache and ear ache I actually enjoyed doing absolutely nothing. And I have to say the Paddington Bear movies are actually quite endearing aren’t they?
All I need to figure out now is how to convey the last 5 month’s writings on here as it’ll all be retrospective of ‘what happened during the blogging hiatus’. How should I go about it? Rhetorical because I’m just speaking to myself right now and you who might be reading (feel free to make a suggestion if you are reading). I never really know whose reading or if anyone does find anything useful in what I have to say about my healing highs and lows. I just write. It’s good for my soul anyway. Back to these WA’s – perhaps I could do a diary series all with the same name and an episode number – boring but it makes sense so it follows in some sort of logical sequence? And if I have something else to say in between it won’t ruin the flow will it?
P.S. I’m glad I’m sitting here writing again. It’s weird – when I sat down to get this new post out, I was wondering if could still write? I get worried when I haven’t written anything for a while, thinking that my god given gift to write is going to become impaired or handicapped in some way. The best way to cure writers block is to open a blank screen and just write, whatever you want, in whatever order, just write and remove the pressure for perfection. And then something will begin to move. That’s what happens when you just ‘do’ with no agenda. Scribble on a piece of paper. Just write. Just words. No order. No sense. And then it all starts coming together, like a piece of clay on a potter’s wheel.
If baring my soul to you (and the world) has moved or touched a part of you in any way, then your support would be very welcome. To help me on this healing journey, perhaps you’d like to buy me a coffee (although mines a tea) via the link below:
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