I really genuinely think I’m going crazy. Losing it.
And at the same time I don’t think I’ve ever been more in touch with myself and how I’m doing. It’s hard to explain. Sometimes I think it’s really just the fact that I’m so unused to feeling things that it knocks me for ten, and other times I think Oh my God, how the flippin’ BEEEEP am I gonna get through this? And still, somewhere at the back of my head, even when I’m feeling really low, there’s this little voice that tells me that Ok, so maybe you don’t know how to deal with this, but that doesn’t matter, because you’re just gonna have to. That’s just how it is, girl.

And I think that’s a clear indication that I am getting better; that I am in fact dealing with things, even if I have no idea how. Because that voice is new. It hasn’t been there before. Or maybe it has, but if that’s the case I must have been utterly deaf to it, because I can honestly say I haven’t heard it before.

I think it’s to do with spending those weeks at Drayton Park Women’s Crisis Centre earlier this year, working so desperately hard at putting in motion a change in myself. Not just on the surface, but through and through. Also, seeing D. every week, well, I guess it reinforces that idea. That, actually, the only real option here is to get myself through this, by any means necessary. And, I suppose that the reason why I’m struggling so much right now is that for the past few weeks I haven’t had that weekly dose of encouragement.

The last thing D. said to me before we parted after my last session in the second week of August was “S, I don’t want to come back and find that you are dead.” And I remember very clearly thinking that Why in the world would I be dead?, that it was a remarkably ridiculous thing to suggest, and so I went on to make a jokey comment.

I get it now. I do. Although I always knew that I liked my counselling sessions with D. I didn’t at all realise how incredibly important they really are. How being told something and then going home to think about it actually gets me through the week, and strengthens that survival instinct within me, ups the volume of that voice, if you wish.

Yesterday after work I was feeling a bit fragile. So, I went to see my friend P. and her little girl. That worked a treat at lifting my mood. I also spoke to two of my friends on the phone and spent some time just reflecting over all the difficulties in my life I have had, and marvel at the fact that I’m still around. I don’t mean to brag, but when I think about all the things in my life I’ve been through – how unconventional my life has been in many ways – well, I do feel proud to still be alive. And I think I have a right to be.

Now, on to something else that inspired me the other day. I was having one of those days where I really couldn’t think of any good reason to smile. One of those Yes, I’m alive, but so what?-days. You know what I mean. So I spent most of my day in bed, trying to, but not managing to sleep. In the end I gave up and reached for my iPod and started surfing the web and I came across this story about a little girl called Danielle. I read it, and what struck me the most was not how cruel a place the world can be, but an enormous sense of gratitude for the fact that there are people around – like Dani’s new family – who are willing to not just talk about it, but act to change that. So, please, visit the Lierow’s website. I suggest you also read the wonderful article by Lane DeGregory, sharing Dani’s story with the world. It is in parts pretty grim reading, but, I do like the way it’s been written and how it actually also offers Dani’s natural mother to give her side, indefensible as it is.

Having read Dani’s story I felt compelled to contact the Lierows to tell them how their courage has touched me, and to ask if it would be ok for me to link to their site in my blog, and yesterday I got an email back from Bernie, Dani’s new dad, to say that it was.

So, again, take a deep breath and read the story about this family. I am sure, that you, like me – will feel a bit better about the human race after. And feel that, after all – there are things worth smiling about.

Real love,

xx