Sooooo it’s been a while since I wrote a blog post. Truth is, I’m never consistent in anything I do. That’s my biggest downfall in life and it’s currently wrecking my life, slowly, from the side lines.

Now, I’m also someone who waits until things are pretty bad before she realises there’s an issue and that she can’t do sweet shit to tackle it. That includes writing it all down in her blog.

So here’s a small update on the last few months.

I’m at university now. Great stuff right? I’m Finally studying psychology and doing what I love. WRONG! This is a fucking disaster. I have made a huge mistake by doing this and now I can’t back out; I have to carry this through for three fucking years.

It’s a three day course. I do one day, just one, and I am so exhausted and in pain after, that I can’t even get in the next day. Sometimes it takes me days to recover. My body literally cannot cope with sitting in a room for 4 hours and taking a short commute whilst carrying a moderate weight bag. My mind is so frazzled from getting through the day on overdrive and anxiety that it melts and by the next day I am completely out of my window of tolerance simply on waking.

I have utter respect for disabled people who work or go to school. You are all AMAZING people. I envy you. You have an ability I’d die to have again. But that’s the thing isn’t it, I probably need to die to have that again. This life is pretty much going to always be what I have right now and the only chance I get to start again is in the next life.

I’m an optimist. I have said it many times and always had this firm belief that I was beating this and I would get better one day and I was, or I thought I was. Turns out being able to rest when I needed, having a solid routine in place and not having to worry about getting through the day where the cure. Unfortunately that’s not a realistic life for most of us. I can’t live that way forever so I tried to better myself and my future prospects and now I see the huge fat ginormous ugly fucking truth about me and my so called recovery. It was all fake. A safety net. An illusion. A placebo.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do what I was doing forever. So you see, I have nowhere to run and this point. I’m all out of road to run and hills to hop. I’m stuck, once again, at a crossroads but I’m pretty sure all roads lead to a big drop with nothing but concrete at the bottom.