Lovely.

I’ve had a thought that to quell the bugs in my brain at times, I should write down when I have lovely days. Or days when lovely things happen. I feel like if I do this, then during those periods where I’m anxious that everyone in my life is out to get me, or nothing is going right, I can read back about these lovely times and feel, well, lovely.

Today was nothing extraordinary; it was nothing revolutionary, but it was a day that ended on a high.
Booga met me on the train (I’ve lived with him twice and I see him loads throughout the week now that we’re living apart again, but I still have to fight back a Cheshire cat sized grin every time I walk up to him – he’s just so damn pretty) and we headed into town together. He needed some jeans as he has a tendency to wear them until they split (usually in the crotch) and he’s useless at patching things. We got the shopping over with quickly, large shops and bank holidays are a nightmare, and he then took me comic routing to see if we could find any of the Two Girls One Tank variant covers I’m missing.
We managed to find one. I now own 6/11 variants of issue 1.

We then nipped for food. Nothing special, we just grabbed a bite to eat and had a pint at Wetherspoons. It was a beautiful day and we didn’t half fancy sitting in a beer garden, but absolutely everywhere was chocca. We finished eating and decided to head home; we had a fridge full of beers leftover from my birthday party at the weekend and a perfectly good garden there anyway.
I think my favourite part of the whole day was sitting out back of my mums sipping cold tinnies and listening to brilliant early 2000s bubblegum punk. We might look like street punks on the outside, but I think we’re secret pop punk kids deep down – somewhat at least.

Oh he’s soooo pretty

After that he had to head home which always sucks.
It’s usually after good days that the bugs start picking on me. I guess it’s some kind of “You don’t deserve to have enjoyed yourself so we’re going to drop a tonne of anxiety onto your brain” thing. I’m at a point now where after 8 years, I’m pretty damn tired of letting it get to me. I’m finding little coping mechanisms after all this time that are finally starting to help. Maybe I’ll write a post on them sometime.

I guess these posts will be more for me than anyone else. Just little reminders that I can have good days. Here’s to hoping the good starts to outweigh the bad.

Love and tanks
Fonzie B x

PMA.

There are still bugs in my brain.
Niggling little mites that bite me with their sharp little teeth at (now thankfully) irregular intervals throughout my day. Their bites still itch though, and cause problems in my life.

I’ve suffered with a diagnosed mental illness for almost 8 years now. I’ve suffered with an undiagnosed mental illness for most of my life. It’s irreversibly damaged some of my relationships, greatly affected others and and isa constant source of anguish in my day to day life. I’m one of the lucky few who have managed to be in care for most of their illness and I can admit I was never the best patient. More often than not I would disregard the help being given to me, it was easier ‘to be sick’.

Last year I hit my breaking point. My self harm turned into me severely physically assaulting others, loved ones at that, and every day was a tremendous battle. I hit rock bottom. And the old cliché turned out to be true. Once I hit rock bottom, the only way left to go was up.

It’s the past few weeks I’ve really noticed the changes. I’ve gotten more involved in groups with my social workers help. I’m throwing my own two cents in with my psychiatrist in regards to my medication. I’ve started an anger management group (which makes me a little angry, ironically) and I’m back on the waiting list for CBT yet again. But it’s not just that, it’s genuinely how I’m dealing with little daily things. I’m not just flying off the handle or breaking down. I’m taking a step back, a deep breath and looking at the bigger picture.

Today, I accidentally ruined one of my favourite possessions (a material anti capitalist, ha). A broken can of spray paint meant that I ruined the back of the vegan leather jacket Booga bought me for Christmas from www.straighttohellapparell.com
It was a disaster. Red paint all over a finished white stencil and 600 studs. Any other day I would have hit the roof. I would have blamed everyone around me, smashed things, hurt my head and basically been a bitch for a few hours. Not today though. Today I took a deep breath and saw it as an opportunity to completely revamp the jacket. I’d started it last year during my bad phase; here was a chance to start it fresh in my good phase.

I managed to clean it up to this point before smudging paint over the whole thing, again.

There are still bugs in my brain though. Little things like a few hours between texts still trigger paranoia that something bad may have happened, but I really am learning to just step back and realise there are a million reasons people can’t get to the phone and not all of them are bad.

I feel good.
I feel well.
I feel lucky.
I feel loved.
I feel positive.

So fuck you bugs. I’ll squash you yet.