Read about my battles with Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD), my mental health, surviving both childhood sexual abuse and a 12 year relationship plagued with emotional abuse, as well personal projects / challenges, and anything vaguely Jem-related.
I don’t think it’s possible to have a perfect year. 12 months / 52 weeks / 365 days: all too big a time-span to guarantee 100% wellness and positivity every hour of every day. Nonetheless? 2018 has been “my” year. I’ve not avoided conflict and drama. People close to me have still suffered pain, been… read full entry »
(I originally posted this on reddit, but want it recording here as part of my journey.) I had a drink on Saturday night. I made the active choice to have a drink, rather than caving to cravings or anything like that; it was one of my best friend’s pre-wedding celebrations and as I can’t/won’t drink… read full entry »
For the uninitiated and new readers amongst you, PMDD is an extreme version of PMS/PMT. It can cause cyclical feelings of anxiety, depression, anger and even suicidal thoughts, as well as the physical symptoms typically associated with the menstrual cycle. It’s been over a year since I last talked about my PMDD. When I lost… read full entry »
I can’t really think of any other way of describing 2017? Starting the year with a massive unexpected tax bill (sound familiar?) was an uphill battle – a chain lift, dragging the rollercoaster car to the top of steep hill – following by rocketing at speed towards lows like the loss of yet more pets… read full entry »
Gaz asked me one Saturday a few weeks back — as I ordered a vodka cocktail — whether or not I’d given up on the ‘not drinking’ thing. A fair question, given the ‘ordering a cocktail’ thing. Sobriety was going really, really well. I had managed to get through several months without a drink, battling… read full entry »
When I was, ooh… 17 years old (give or take) I wrote a “dirty” poem for the man I thought I was in love with. I don’t remember the words, but I remember it was a little bit rude, a little bit “naughty”. That poem didn’t go down well. The recipient freaked the fuck out… read full entry »
I plonked my wibbly wobbly stretch-marked belly (maybe NSFW, features underboob) on Instagram last night. It came off the back of a conversation with a gorgeous, sexy friend who mentioned that she had issues with her tummy. It’s a common one, especially for mums. I spent a long time hung up on my stomach. I’ve had… read full entry »
A tribute to Robert ‘Bobby’ Addison, as read out at his service today. It would be… incongruous to stand here and tell you all what an angelic life Bobby led. He was almost as well known by the local police as he was by us here today. But, despite his misdemeanours and mistakes, it is… read full entry »
Content warning: suicide, mental health, addiction On Wednesday I sat down and mentally compiled a tribute to my brother, whilst assembling an IKEA table. There’s something strangely therapeutic about putting flat-pack furniture together (at least when I’m doing it by myself). My brother, Robert ‘Bobby’ Addison, took his own life some time around the 21st-22nd… read full entry »
I posted this picture to instagram at the end of May: The general gist of the caption was that, while I don’t agree on everything my mum says & does, I did appreciate her “don’t give a fuck” attitude growing up and it helped me develop a similar approach to society’s pressures to look a… read full entry »