The bad thing about being back at home? Being back at home.
No. That's a little bit mean really.
I'm only joking.
Love Mum and Dad. And after a week of being away its lovely to see them, and I know I'm super lucky to have a roof over my head and people to love me and look out for me.
I just wish I didn't live in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes I feel like I'm surrounded by fields and middle aged women (my Mums neverending stream of friends, whom I refer to as 'The Calender Girls'...although luckily they haven't got round to posing nude yet...)
I loved being in London. Catching up with old friends, and getting up to mischief. I can't get up to any mischief in Somerset. I need a fellow mischief maker. Actually, I don't just want one, I want a whole group of mischief makers. A gang if you will. Whats more annoying is that I do have them, they're just not here. Curses.
Actually, that's not technically true, some of them are here. I think I may be having a dramatic moment.
This week I felt as if I was part of something again, connecting with people and places in a way that I haven't done properly for ages. My anxiety has got so much better, it feels like the fences it put around my body are slowly being smashed. By my high kicking ninja moves of course. I need to use those ninja moves on the black dog now, and kick his depressing little arse far away from mine.
You know what, I've just realised, that I've done that all on my own (with help from the right medication!) No one has helped me, and I haven't had to rely on anyone. Its just been me. I'm doing this, I'm defeating the anxiety and depression!
I think this is called a breakthrough!
Lets all dance!!