This post makes me sound like a complete psycho… but here we go.

In this day and age, the internet brings a whole new dimension to the stalking tendencies I can have when I’m attached to someone. Gone are the day’s where I’d be hanging around in a school corridor hoping to catch sight of my favourite teacher just so I was acknowledged by them with a smile or a hello. Instead, you can use google, facebook etc to find out so much more.

I go one step further. I have a fake name, fake photos etc. When I’m addicted to someone or attached or whatever it is I use my fake account to investigate. When I was in therapy with T I managed to find her adult daughter who accepted my friends request so then I had access to family photos of T. I used these to torture myself with. All the people that T loves, who get to see a different side of her, who don’t have to pay to see her etc. Then, of course, the whole relationship with T messed up (she didn’t know about my stalking tendencies) so then I used social media to just hate her. I’d look at her pics and just wish awful things to happen. I also have another person who I would “stalk” I haven’t written about this person (let’s just call her Jezebel, and yes I do mean the she devil who deceives people) because its still just too raw and painful, despite it all happening nearly two years ago.

Anyway, the point of this rambling is that I’m finally getting to a point where I am going to delete my fake social media accounts. Over the last few months, I’ve only looked at profiles maybe once a week or every ten days or so, this is an improvement considering I used to check in every day, if not several times a day! I’m at a point right now where I don’t have any attachment to anyone. This is so unusual for me. I don’t think there has ever been a time where I wasn’t massively addicted to someone.

I was considering starting therapy again but to be honest I don’t want to walk down the attachment/addiction thing that I get because it wrecks my life! When everything happened with Jezebel I lost my husband, I was acutely suicidal and my life just spiralled out of control. Then with everything that happened with T I was catapulted into another shame spiralling, suicidal loop. I just don’t want this happening again. I don’t want to get vulnerable with someone only to have it blow up in my face. At the moment I’m able to squash down my negative feelings about myself, I don’t feel suicidal and I’m not depressed. I don’t think it’s a good thing to tempt my inner stalker/psycho!

Attachment sucks.


I’ve been struggling with this for a while. I try and start a post about it but I can’t find the words to even explain the issue I am having. As the title of this post suggests my issue surrounds commenting on other people’s posts.

I always read the blogs of the people I follow. My problem is commenting. I have an internal dialog which goes along the lines of this:

“… I want to comment, they are having a hard time, give them some support. But what do I say?! I can tell them I’m here for them and offer my thoughts but another person has already said what I want to say so that person will just think I’m copying them. They will think that I can’t even have my own opinion on something. The person who posted the blog will think I’m pathetic that I don’t come up with my own response.

I could just “like” the post but then what if they think I think their struggles are funny? Or they may just think Im lazy and cant even be bothered to write something to them…”

Ugh, my head!

If I do comment on someone’s blog I then worry that I will upset someone else by not commenting on theirs!

Intellectually I know I’m being stupid. I personally do not feel bad if someone doesn’t comment on my post and I don’t see it as negative if someone likes my post. So why do I beat myself up about it when applying it to myself and my actions?



Sharing because this gave me hope.


I had to share this. This person is Absolutely incredible!!!

This truly touched me on so many levels. I completely relate to this singer struggling to overcome a disability. To try so hard to not be overcome by it all. To not allow it to define her. To ensure that she is the best SHE can be. To continue to strive despite the struggles and to reach the stars!!!

I am in awe of this beautiful and strong woman. This video had me in tears. Just so amazing and uplifting ❤️





Ah life, It’s just so fucked up. Just when I think it’s on the up everything comes crashing down again.

I’ve been in a new relationship with a guy (let’s call him Tim) for about 7 months. He moved in with me about a week ago. This evening we had an argument it was over something so stupid. My friend Amy is coming round on Tuesday to play Call of Duty, there is nothing quite like shooting baddies to cheer yourself up (in the gaming sense of course) anyway, Tim seemed to think that my friend and I should be relegated to the bedroom to game rather than using the front room because he wants to watch his recorded programmes before he goes to work. I said that I didn’t understand why he couldn’t relax in the bedroom and watch his shows. Surely that is more reasonable than expecting my friend and I to sit on the bed gaming?! He complained. I instantly felt wound up and attacked, I responded by saying “fine do what you want, I’ll change my plans.” We haven’t spoken all evening. I’m upstairs (how ironic) and Tim is downstairs.

I know that this may seem like a petty thing, but the problem is I’m starting to realise just how much Tim likes things done his way. Don’t get me wrong, we all like things to be how we want but Tim doesn’t seem to have any give, and it’s making me miss my ex-husband. It’s making me regret letting him move in, it’s making me want to curl up and cry and will the world away. I feel so trapped.

Tim has type 2, insulin controlled diabetes and what really, really stresses me out and makes me cross is that he seems to think that his “physical” illness is worse than my “mental” illness. His needs are greater than mine etc. It becomes a tit for tat thing. I fully understand that his illness can cause him to be short tempered etc if his sugar levels aren’t right etc but I don’t seem to get the same consideration.

It’s so hard and I don’t know what to do.


Please be aware that this post contains descriptions of sexual abuse.


My first sexual experience came from my Great Uncle, who, when I was taking him a cup of tea in his shed, grabbed me and put his hands in my underwear. He was rubbing over my bottom and my vagina (why does writing these words feel so wrong and shameful?!) and then he inserted a finger into me. He started to kiss me and put his tongue in my mouth. I was frozen. All I could think was how the shed door was open and if anyone happened to walk past the garden they would be able to see what was going on. Oddly the thought of this happening just made me feel so embarrassed. My uncle continued touching me, he held me close to him and kept murmuring in my ear “you like this don’t you, this feels nice doesn’t it”, it wasn’t a question, he was just stating that I was enjoying what he was doing. I whispered “no” but he didn’t even hear me. He put my hand on his trousers and rubbed my hand over the material. Then my aunt called me to say we were leaving soon. He stopped. I left the shed in a trance. I went to the bathroom, I had blood on my inner thighs. I washed with tissue and cold water, then put a wad of toilet roll in my underwear, all the while quietly telling myself it was going to be ok.

I was 9.

I’m not sure why this is in my head today. I still feel ashamed describing it. I’ve never been able to discuss any of the sexual abuse that has happened to me. I always found it mortifying using words to describe my private areas. I can discuss the physical and mental abuse I endured growing up it just feels easier to describe it. I had started to talking to T about the sexual abuse but of course that therapeutic relationship fell apart.

I feel the need to apologise sharing this memory. I’m not even sure why. Ugh my head, it’s a mess right now. I’m sorry.


Just a quick update regarding my friend Charlotte. Although tests are still underway Charlotte has been diagnosed with an ovarian cancer stage 1c.

From a prognosis point of view this is very treatable. Charlotte is likely to lose the ovary where the cancer cells are. However, with the cancer she has, it’s hopeful that just removing the infected ovary will be sufficient and she shouldn’t need to have chemotherapy (fingers crossed). The worry is that when she had the original operation the surgeon accidentally ruptured the tumour, causing cancer cells to spill onto healthy areas.

Currently Charlotte is having more tests to see if the cancer has spread. If it has she may lose all of her reproductive organs. Time will tell.