I don't want any sympathy, any comments slandering this stranger, any encouragement to not think about it.
So last post I touched on being unsure on writing, and I've definitely backed off a lot and I feel I have nothing overly interesting to say, that there's no clear flow of my writing, the topics are all over the place.
Sunday was my first Groovin the Moo since 2009. A festival designed to venture outside the capital city boundaries, and every year it gets better and better.
I'm making yet another emergency flight back home, after the passing of my sweet, beautiful grandma.
Holy crap. I knew going off the pill was going to bad. But this is shithouse.
Since writing my last post I have now been to the doctor to discuss my mental health, and what a fucking disaster that was. It was everything I hoped it wouldn’t be, and if it weren’t for my amazing support around me, it could have made things a hell of a lot worse.
I’m not OK. I’m finally ready to admit this. I’m not OK, I’m tired of fighting, I’m tired of accepting this as how I am. It’s not OK to accept this. But it is OK to admit it