It’s been hard to get my head around what recovery is. And I think that part of helping yourself is being able to identify recovery. And I think it’s different for every person. I decided to write a list on what it means to me – as a way to remind myself that yes, I am still here, and yes I have come a long way.


1. Recovery is asking for help. No matter how stupid you feel for doing it.

2. Recovery is realising that life is transient and ever-changing. You are too.

3. Recovery is forcing yourself to get out of bed every day and achieving something. Whether that be doing a load of washing or writing that stupid essay. Small steps.

4. Recovery is being proud of your scars. I think that mental illness is so stigmatized by fear. Be proud that you won.

5. Recovery is imagining a future. To quote the movie ‘Side Effects,’ “depression is the inability to construct a future.” Recovery is realising that you have the drive inside you to fulfill all of your dreams.

To My 16 Year Old Self.

To my 16 year old self:

- Your hands will not find happiness at the back of your throat.

- The boy that you fall for, and you will fall for him, will not be your last.

- Do not spend so long being sad, there is so much to live for.

- Anger will consume you. Let it eat you up and then spit it out.

- You have many blessings. Count them, put them in a box and say thank you.

- Stop hanging out with people that don’t care about you. So many more will.

- It is okay to be alone sometimes, but stop having conversations with the voice in your head.

- You are capable of everything. There are galaxies inside of you.

- Life gets shit and then it gets better. Keep looking at the stars and tell yourself that life is transient and fleeting. Make it count.


I have told two people that I love them. Both of them left me. Is it love after all, if you are unsure they love you back? If they leave you? Is love unconditional? Have I said I love you for it to become an anchor to get them to stay? I don’t even know what love is. I don’t even know if it exists. Can you still love someone and let them go, watching them love someone else? My parents said they loved each other, but they broke up. Is it still love if it breaks? How can you not love someone if you share half of them with your children? Does that mean you only love half of your children, your half? I feel like screaming out and asking for answers, but I know that I will get nothing back. I don’t know whether love is a continuum, from the first time you say it till the last, or if there are different periods of love, different sorts. I don’t know if anyone could ever define love. How can you define something so transient and fleeting? Maybe I didn’t mean it. Maybe I said it because it was the right thing to do. Maybe I lied because lying to myself is better than losing someone.

quote of the day.

“I can believe things that are true and things that aren’t true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they’re true or not.

I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the Beatles and Marilyn Monroe and Elvis and Mister Ed. Listen – I believe that people are perfectable, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkled lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women.

I believe that the future sucks and I believe that the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone’s ass. I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state.

I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative. I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste.

I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we’ll all be wiped out by the common cold like martians in War of the Worlds.

I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman.

I believe that mankind’s destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it’s aerodynamically impossible for a bumble bee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there’s a cat in a box somewhere who’s alive and dead at the same time (although if they don’t ever open the box to feed it it’ll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself.

I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn’t even know that I’m alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of causal chaos, background noise, and sheer blind luck.

I believe that anyone who says sex is overrated just hasn’t done it properly. I believe that anyone who claims to know what’s going on will lie about the little things too.

I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman’s right to choose, a baby’s right to live, that while all human life is sacred there’s nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system.

I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you’re alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it.”


Neil Gaiman


I have never known what grey is. For me, there is only black and white, two shades. There’s never been any in between.

I either feel everything or feel nothing at all. I love everything about you, or hate you. I starve myself or eat too much. Sleep for days, or sit up at night with endless energy. Give you my all, or build a wall so strong, you can’t break it. I will exist for one thing, or fail to exist at all. Surround myself with crowds of people, or be incredibly lonely. Be intent on self destruction, or protect myself with every bit of my being. I have never known what grey is. There is no inbetween for me. I need to go around with a neon sign over my head telling everyone to stay away – because I don’t think someone like me can be loved. Can be tolerated, wanted. Because when I want someone, I want to hold them so close that they merge with me. And when they leave me, because realistically, they all leave – I will wonder where my body has gone.



I feel so full of regret. So full in fact, that I feel like it’s bursting out of me. It’s what I think about when I’m lying in bed, when I’m at work, when I’m watching tv. It feels like acid, eating away at me. I’m trying to say hello to it, and confront it face on. All I want to do is accept it and move on. But I can’t and I don’t know why. I keep beating myself up over things that I did years ago. Stupid things, but stupid things that I decided to do consciously. I wish I could detach myself from them, so that they would no longer be mine. So I wouldn’t have to look back on them, and look at myself and see ugliness.

How do I move on? Maybe I can’t move on until I know who I am. And knowing who you are is acceptance. But I’m fighting a full blown war with this body. This unknown, unclaimed land. I’m trying to get rid of it, and kill it away with thoughts, and words and actions. But it won’t go away. It never will go away. And I’m starting to accept that it is what it is. This is real life kid. This is who you are, this was who you were, and this could be who you will be. I’m scared. I’m scared that if I accept this, I won’t have anything left. What will I have to think about? What is left to hate?



Nothing lasts forever.

There was a wedding at work last night. I was standing there, watching the groom say his speech to his new wife. They looked so in love. He was listing the reasons why he loves her.

While I was watching, I couldn’t help but feel torn between two things. One, that I hope with all my heart that they will be together always, and mean everything they were saying. On the other hand, I can’t help but see the negative in it. Maybe it’s because I’m a kid of divorce. Everyone in my family’s divorced. If I look back at each vow spoken, I wouldn’t believe what they were saying. And that kinda scares me. Does that mean I’ll never be able to trust somebody? Maybe I’ll never get to that place where I can vow myself to someone, and believe that they mean their vows too. I can’t help but think that nothing last forever – maybe it’s human nature to evolve, even if it means evolving away from somebody. I don’t know. I want so badly to believe that people can be together forever. But how can I believe it when I don’t have proof?

Stormy weather.

I know I’ve written a few analogies for depression. Right now, depression feels like a threatening cluster of storm clouds. They are rolling in closer, and the sky is turning black. Rain is starting to fall. All I can do is put up my umbrella and wait for it to pass, right? All I have is this goddamn umbrella to keep me dry – although the wind keeps turning it out and I’m getting soaked. This image is replaying in my fucking head all day. I try to stare at the sun. I beg for it not to leave me. I’m trying to push the clouds out of my head, roll them away like they do on stupid baby shows.


It seems that whatever I do, someone gets hurt. I hurt myself. I disappoint someone. I disappoint myself. 


I’m trying to work out if this is a bad day, or if I’m getting bad again.