Listening. Pt 2

And then, I spent the next few hours listening. First to a friend whose wonderful family have blessed and supported me in unimaginable ways this last year. Ways I can never repay. He spoke words of love over me. He told me he knew I was struggling, and that the last week had been really hard for me, but he was proud of me. (Yes I cried again!) Just hearing someone acknowledge it, someone who just knew me without me having to explain it, was refreshing. But then I listened as he doubted himself, questioned himself, because of the way some people had treated him.

And I have to say, that hurt me more than the rest of the day had. That he could think for one second that he wasn’t good enough, and that he wasn’t living a life that God would smile over. He’s one of the most phenomenal people I have ever been blessed to meet. He is kind and generous and loving, even when no-one is looking. He goes above and beyond for so many people, and he does it without expecting recognition or reward. And it made me realise, that in all this time I have been struggling, waiting for God to move in my life: and he already has. He’s kept promises in the people He has surrounded me with. He has blessed me with an amazing church family to call home. And he’s given me friends who listen to all the things I don’t say. To all the things I wish I could say. And to all the things I say in my heart. But I realised that maybe I need to say them out loud more often. So this one is for you, dear friend.

Thanks for always listening. 😊

Listening. Pt 1

So, honestly... I’ve spent most of the last 24 hours crying. I went to bed on Wednesday crying and I woke up on Thursday morning feeling tearful and hopeless. I just wanted every difficult thing in my life to end. Truthfully, I wanted my life to end. My mind struggled to compute life past the end of the summer. My thought pattern turned unhealthy very quickly, as I began to make plans and think about who might miss me and who definitely wouldn’t. I stayed in bed crying and watching DVD’s until past lunchtime. 

In the afternoon, I’d promised to give a friend a lift to Dudley, so we went there and then to Costa where we laughed at M. McIntyre videos and truer than life memes. We talked about death, like we often do, and like we always do, we gave each other reasons to stay alive that we ignore for ourselves. 

Then I went back to my flat. And I cried some more. And I spoke to Sam on the phone and bawled down the phone to him, feeling so guilty for the pressure I put on him and how much I rely on him and all the time knowing there is little he can do to change how I feel. 

After that I lay, half-asleep in my bed until a friend text and asked if I fancied going to the shop. So we headed out, and as the sun was setting, I took her up to the back of St Andrews church where we watched the most gorgeous sunset and saw some wild horses. It’s a favourite place of mine to sit, and as we watched the colours sweep across the sky, we sat, and we breathed in the evening air and the soft stillness and the peace that comes from watching nature in all its magnificence. And I realised, what a wonderful moment to be with friends... 

 To be continued...

Honesty.

Honesty. How much is too much? I’ve been thinking about this so much recently, because often when I’m in a bad place, people will ask me a question and want me to “be honest with them” about how I’m feeling, but it doesn’t always end up being the best thing for me. So I hold back the whole truth, and I give a generic overview; the tip of the iceberg, if you will. Not sure if it’s my BPD, INJF-ness or my autistic traits but I just really struggle with generic questions like, ‘how are you?’. My brain won’t compute an answer in the socially accepted time-frame within which to answer so I say, “fine” or “yeah I’m okay.” If you want to know something direct you’re much better off asking me a direct question.

It’s certainly no secret that since getting out of hospital I have been really struggling, wishing things could be different, wishing I could somehow understand the mess my head is in. I cry at the smallest things. I cry at the big things. I feel alone and yet I’m surrounded. I feel overwhelmed and empty and every day I just hope and pray that something might suddenly just click into place; that I might begin to feel a little bit more normal.

I know I need to give myself time, to rest and recover, to give therapy a chance, to hold on to hope and love and peace that might one day drop back into my life. But it’s hard. It’s so hard.

So I just wanted to say thank you. So many of you have encouraged me and been praying for me and have been ever so patient when I just haven’t been able to do the things I normally would have. Maybe you were one of those people who asked how I was and didn’t feel like you got the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I’m sorry.

And I’m so thankful for this Insta feed. Morgan Harper Nichols posts speak so loudly to me. I read them all the time to remind myself to let grace abound and to let myself breathe. To trust that the light will break through the darkness and grace pours in day after day. Because honesty, though it might not be perfect, it is a beautiful thing.

IN!

"For we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose."

Romans 8:28

See that little two letter word there - “IN.” You might not even have noticed it. Some Bible versions don’t have it. But I have always maintained that the ‘IN’ is the most important word in the whole verse. It creates faith that is more than on the surface, faith that can anchor itself through the harshest of storms. Because whatever situation I’m in, or have been in, I know that God; if it is His will; can change it. But I also know that it doesn’t mean He will. Trusting in God means we have to trust that He knows better than us, even when we might disagree.

In the past, I’ve certainly been the victim of people mis-quoting Bible verses at me, and I don’t even know why. Telling someone that the situation they’re in wouldn’t happen if they had more faith, or that God won’t allow them to suffer, doesn’t create a deep spirituality based on a foundation of God’s truth. It creates false faith that withers and dies when the going gets tough. It creates a faith that doesn’t understand and blames God when suffering occurs. I’m glad that I’ve learnt over the years that suffering doesn’t negate a loving God, because God’s heart breaks when one of His children’s does. So no matter what pain and hurt and heartache I experience in life, I can and will trust in a loving, faithful God, who will work IN all things, and through all things, for the good of my eternal soul.

Faith Pt 3

But what happens to your faith when you don’t see things change the way you’ve been praying for them to? What happens when life doesn’t get better in the time you expected it to, or maybe never gets better? Do you keep hoping, keep praying, keep trusting? What if you get to the end of your life, and things haven’t moved an inch? Do you have the faith to hold on? If you pray and pray and pray for God to heal someone, and they die anyway, do you have the foundation and strength to keep trusting? Or is your faith in God reliant on seeing miracles happen in your life and in the lives of those around you?

 Can you believe, can you trust, even when you feel like you have never received an answer to prayer? If we believe in a God that allows us to spend eternity with Him, why would we not expect there to be faithful people who do not see God moving this side of eternity? God has all of time to make up for what happens during your life on Earth. The question is - can you remain faithful and hopeful for a lifetime without seeing the fulfilment of His promises here, trusting that you will receive your answers, your mountains will be moved, and the sea will be parted - in heaven?

‘When You don't move the mountains

I'm needing You to move

When You don't part the waters

I wish I could walk through

When You don't give the answers

As I cry out to You I will trust,

I will trust, I will trust in You.’

Lauren Daigle

Faith Pt 2

These last few days have been so hard. Those who know anything about BPD, or me in general, will know that I struggle a lot with feeling left out, abandoned and rejected. So being sent home early from camp, and then seeing post after post on social media about the wonderful time everyone else had, has been utterly heartbreaking. Had it not been for a dear friend of mine needing me to keep it together over the last few days, I’m sure I would have been an absolute mess. And this evening as we sat outside the hospital in the evening drizzle, a rainbow appeared in the sky.

It got me thinking. Yes, this last year my life has changed in ways that I never expected it to. I’ve experienced more inner turmoil than I ever thought I was capable of coping with. But this next year? I have no idea what is going to happen. I spend so much time worrying about whether things will ever get better: Will I ever stop feeling this way? Will I ever be able to cope with day to day life again? I never stop and think: what if it does?

 Noah: surrounded by God’s creatures for 40 days in a big boat while the heavens poured out more water than he’d ever seen in his life: he could have focussed on the season he was in. But I’d imagine, knowing and trusting in God, he waited (mostly patiently) for the season to come to an end. Did it make the 40 days any easier? Probably not. But maybe, just maybe, at some point his perspective changed.

 This season I’m in, it’s hard. And no amount of people quoting ‘For I know the plans...’ at me will change that. You see: (and this is where I think some Christians have a misguided belief about the meaning of Jer 29) sometimes God DOES allow hard stuff to happen in our life. Stuff that harms us and makes us vulnerable and hurts us. Stuff that breaks us down and rips our soul or our body apart. Just like he did with Job, and just like he did with Jesus. But does he leave us? No. No matter how much God hides His face, no matter how much the darkness closes in or how much the rain pours, there is always a God who is working unknown in the background; preparing mountains for us to land on in our future.

And all that hard stuff? The rain and the darkness and the brokenness that lives in our soul? In another season, God will turn that hurt into joy. He will turn darkness into light, brokenness into beautiful healing. Because IN all things, He works for good. So even though right now, life is tough, I cry more than it rains and I spend so, so many nights feeling alone and rejected, I also have faith that maybe one day I won’t. One day, I might stand on mountains again. And that’s okay. A lot can happen in a year.

Faith Pt 1

If this year has taught me anything, it’s that there are some situations that can’t be changed. Moments that once missed, are gone forever. Events that will play out no matter how much you try to avoid them. Conversations that once had, can never be forgotten. And no amount of wishing and hoping can change it. Time is fleeting.

Opportunities are as permanent as the clouds in the sky. The sun rises and the sun sets, and life goes on. There are so many things I wish I could change. So many emotions and situations I wish I could leave behind.

At the start of this week, I was so eager to hear the gentle whisper of God’s voice. Maybe He would speak into my soul and remind me of my unique place in His creation. Perhaps He might remind my inner being how much He loved me. Maybe He would heal me or release me of the immense pain I feel inside. Or fill me with supernatural peace and calm that comes only from above. It didn’t happen.

So now, as this week begins to stumble into the past, I am feeling rather disappointed. The opportunities have passed, I will never live this week again. What’s done is done. I have no idea how to feel, or even to describe the darkness that eats at my core. Everything happens for a reason, though right? Or maybe everything just happens, and we try, in our humanness, to find meaning in it. A year ago, everything was so different. A year ago, I was so different. So I guess, all things considered, no matter how fleeting time is, its effect is seen, felt, and experienced, in the moments like this.

React.

I wonder how you react to bad news. Are you someone who immediately worries about others, or how you will be affected, or the sadness of the situation? Maybe you are quick to empathise, or quick to try to solve?

Me? I tend to internalise everything I hear. I often need a while to process news before I can begin to unpack how I really feel about it. It’s like I have an internal carousel, and every time something happens the news jumps on the carousel, except I have no idea when it’s going to get off again. And while it’s going round and round in my head, I make assumptions about the world and the people in it. So certain things will set off an internal chain-reaction that make me appear to over-react to something others think is insignificant. It’s a massive part of my illness and it’s only recently that I’ve realised how much I do it.

So, I have to apologise if in the past I’ve over-reacted (or under-reacted) to some news. Perhaps I wasn’t quite ready to process. Perhaps I was over-processing something that spilled out when I heard what you were saying. Perhaps there were just too many things on the carousel, and lots got off at the same time. I’m sorry. There is so much going on inside my head that you will never see. I hope you can be patient with me.

Choice.

I made a choice yesterday to take some practical steps towards recovery. It wasn’t easy - it had been a long and stressful day and my mind was working on overload. But I knew that I had to take control. I had to choose well-being in the midst of agonising anxiety and uncertainty. Because I didn’t choose to get ill. I didn’t choose to experience some of the things that I have had to experience. And I know that a lot of my friends who also suffer with mental illness have also been through horrible situations that were neither their choosing nor their fault.

But today, this moment, we have a choice. Some choose to let anxiety and worry and pain take over. And there is no shame in that. Sometimes you feel like you don’t have the strength to fight against it. But if you can, if you can find within yourself the strength to choose life over death, joy over pain, hope over despair, then you can make it. Choose to take steps, however small, walking or perhaps even crawling, on that road of recovery. You do not walk that road alone. There is hope ahead, my friend. Be kind to yourself. Believe that no matter what you’ve been through, it is not your fault and you can choose to get well again. We’ve got this. 💚

Not Giving Up.

Being totally honest:

Life is hard right now.

Having a mental illness is hard.

Making decisions is hard.

Dealing with difficult situations is hard.

Supporting friends and loving them right is hard.

Not having the time or energy to see my beloved family is hard.

Not having a job or the ability to do a job is hard.

Not having enough money in the bank or food in the cupboards is hard.

Waiting for therapy and dreading it at the same time is hard.

Not getting enough sleep at night and being too tired each day is hard.

Knowing people who were once my friend but now don’t know how to talk to me is hard.

Missing out on events because I just can’t face being there is hard.

Wanting to do things, then freaking out last minute and staying in bed is hard.

Dealing with my emotions and thoughts and feelings and anxieties is hard.

Knowing there are very few people who understand how I feel right now is hard.

That’s the truth. But you know what? This time, I’m not gonna give up. I’m not going to become a statistic of mental illness. Cause you know what? It might be hard but I’m strong. And my God is stronger. So no matter how hard life gets, or how much I struggle, I may not be standing but I will lay face down on the Rock that never breaks or falters. And one day, I will stand.

Pours.

The weather has finally aligned with my mood of the week.
I’m never ‘a little bit’ of anything.
Whatever emotion I feel, I feel it completely.
Overwhelmingly.
Like a tidal wave.
Drowning me.
Drowning out everything else.
I can’t stop it.
Can’t fight it.
It’s so much easier,
To just accept it.
So it never really rains.
It pours.

Truth.

This is a truth that I am fighting with at the moment. In all honesty, I think the hardest thing for people to understand about EUPD (or BPD as it is more commonly known) is that I “feel” every emotion on a deeper and more excruciating level than others might. Especially with regards to real or imagined abandonment. This means that at times, when I am not in a good place mentally, I will experience and overreact to the smallest thing, because my illness causes me to believe things are a certain way, when perhaps they’re not. (But I can’t see that.)

The trouble is being able to recognise when my reaction is BPD based, and not truth based. I’m not trying to be cryptic, an example might be, when in a friendship with someone, if they don’t text in the nature they normally do, or perhaps don’t reply to a text, I will astronomically overread into the situation, believing myself to have annoyed/angered them, and therefore berate myself for my own incompetence and stupidity when actually, perhaps they were texting in a rush or were preoccupied or some other reason I don’t think of at the time.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that (sometimes) friendships can be really hard for those with BPD. And I guess it can be hard for the ones on the other side as well. When the darkness of mental illness closes in around someone, it can be difficult to know what to say or do for those who are suffering. Sometimes it can be really uncomfortable. So, I just want to say, it’s okay to not have all the answers. It’s okay if you don’t know what to do. But please, I’m begging you, please don’t let your discomfort or awkwardness stop you reaching out to someone. Just a text to say, I’m thinking of you. You’re not forgotten. Comment a 💜 or a *hug* on a post. Let them know you hear them. You see them. It doesn’t have to be big. They may not reply themselves. But sometimes the smallest things can make the biggest difference. In a time when mental illness is all over social media, don’t make things over complicated. A hug or a smile can shine a bright light into someone who can only see the darkness.

Thanks for listening folks. 🙂

Dying

N.B. I have not mentioned certain details in this post in order to try to respect the grief and lives of those affected by that awful tragedy.

On the 29th March 2000, I learned about death in a way that has affected me for the rest of my life. Before this moment, death was something that happened to old people, or old animals, or perhaps to people in other countries who didn't have a lot to eat. For a long time after that, it was a daily phantom that followed me around.

I guess before I talk about who I became, I must introduce you to who I was. Aged 10 years, and 363 days, I was a tomboyish kind of kid. Growing up in between two brothers does that sometimes. I loved climbing trees, reading books, finding places to hide: anything that kept me out of the spotlight. I was the kind of girl who played football, dug up mud in the playground, sharpened sticks to use as 'weapons', built tree houses and for the most part, hated being treated 'like a girl'. I was average build, athletic, ambitious and tough as nails. I gave as good as I got in my regular fights with boys and many of the girls didn't really give me the time of day. I didn't really have friends in Junior school, so I spent a lot of time alone. The school toilets were my refuge at lunchtime and the small cubby hole in the cloakroom was my safety net when I felt threatened during lessons. 

I wasn't naive. I had already; by this point; spent a disproportionate amount of time in my short 10 years in hospitals for appointments, operations and treatments to get rid of my birthmark that could increase my risk of skin cancer astronomically if left to grow. (I found this out later. At the time I just thought it was because it made me different to others and being different was a bad thing.) But despite all this, I was bright, hopeful, resourceful, and despite pretty much hating school because of the bullying, got on well in class and most of the time, kept out of trouble.

Perhaps it was because I felt like an outcast, but I had an overwhelming desire to help, to impress, and to appear useful in the blind hope that my spirit would override the apparent physical flaws that attracted the attention of some people. I didn't like people looking at me, but if they were going to, I preferred it to be because I was doing something of worth. I spent my life "sucking up" to the teachers and adults, and became Library Monitor, PE Cupboard tidy-er, anything to stay off the playground really.

Then, one horrible day just before my 11th birthday, a fire in a flat overnight claimed the lives of three beautiful boys who were pupils/ex pupils of my school. Two of the siblings, although suffering varying degrees of fire-related injuries, survived, (and eventually returned to school.)

Suddenly, death was on the doorstep of our school, our community and our lives. As young children, we were forced to face a horrible and unexplainable tragedy. Nothing that we were feeling could compare to the family of these boys, and I was all too aware that there were those who had known the family far better and far longer than I had. But none of us could escape the sadness that presented itself with us every day that they no longer joined us at the school. Each of us had to enter that playground on that dreadful Monday morning, and feel the weight of the sadness and silence that had smothered the usual pre-school playground atmosphere.

I don't remember much of the assemblies. I don't remember much of what went on during classes after that. I know some were offered counselling, but I wasn't worthy to waste the time of those people when others needed it more than me. I was only at the school a short while longer before I went off to Senior school, but it was a period of time that engrained its negativity into my mind, and changed me in a way I would never be able to explain.

Not long after, just that summer, I experienced my first family death when my Granddad died. But the tears I shed then were partly for my family, and partly out of fear, once again, that death was ever present on my doorstep.

A few years later I remember suffering from terrible, terrible nightmares, some about 'Death' coming to get me, (at the time it was just 'him') and about falling, fire, burning, and other equally terrifying thoughts for a 12 year old. Nightmares and bullying became part of my life, and soon after, self-harm followed to cope with everything that was rushing around my mind and spirit as I struggled with becoming a teenager, and dealing with un-spoken emotions, some of which I would not reveal until many many years later in my life.

Looking back on that time of my life, it is still extremely hard to piece together the ways that it changed me. I know that deep inside, that fear of death has tainted a bit of my soul. I know that there is no way that I will ever be able to erase the dreaded feeling that creeps in through my toes and up to my throat until it chokes me of air, paralysing me and I can do nothing but lay, helplessly on the floor until it subsides. It is a feeling that I have experienced during the most emotional moments of my life, when I felt like my world was once again falling apart. The feeling that I sought to escape every time I reached for a razor blade. The feeling I first got when I realised that death... happens. To young people. To old people. To everyone.

Fifteen years on, from that tragic day, and that time in my life is still extremely hard to talk about. For many years I had an emotional barrier between me and others: I wore a mask and I did not share my innermost thoughts and feelings with anyone. I kept most people away from my heart and kept my "public" face on when with others. But over time, some late-night heart to hearts and hugs from carefully places 'angels' hidden amongst my friends, that has now disappeared almost entirely. Tears, nowadays, seem incredibly close to the surface.

Death, of any kind, makes me feel helpless, weak and ready to cry myself to sleep once again. Funerals of people I have never met are just as emotional as the ones of elderly relatives and friends. The broadcast funerals of TV Characters who aren't even real bring my to real and uncontrollable tears. I cannot bear to see others upset, and crying friends just make me cry. And I cannot help but think that my life, in all the ways it has been affected, has been dictated by that first, unbelievably sad and terrible accident that took three beautiful boys from the lives of those around them. I mean, how can anyone get over something so devastating?

But, time is a great healer, and there is hope for a brighter future. We move on, but we will never be the same. I know that I am not. I know that the lives of those who were left behind reflect the love that they had for those boys. I know they would have been proud of the way their family have kept them alive in their hearts and spirits.  I hope they always knew how much they were loved.  So R.I.P. boys, rest in peace.

Forever

Day 1 of Advent.

Today is the start of Advent, when we look forward to the coming of Christ, the newborn baby who would one day grow up to change the world forever. But whenever there is a time of looking forward, I always seem to find myself thinking back, reflecting on what has gone before. The last few weeks I have spent a long time pondering about all the things that have led to me being here, doing this and being this person.

In particular, I keep thinking about one special little boy that I had to say goodbye to nearly five years ago when he was adopted into his forever family. My feelings about him are always so mixed. I will always look back on the time I got to spend with him with a smile, great fondness, love and affection. But when I see updates on him, pictures of him growing and making achievements and enjoying his new life, I can't seem to shake the dull ache in my stomach and the tears in my eye in the knowledge that he will forget about me long long before I ever will him. The truth is he changed my life much more than I did his.

I guess I must be a pessimist, but all relationships hold that element of knowing that one day, at least one of us will have to say goodbye to the other for good. Whether that be through divorce, death, moving away, illness, etc. There is no relationship on earth in which we know that 'forever' is part of the equation. Humans aren't made for forever. We each hold a few people close to our hearts for a while, but most of my friendships fade when circumstances and distances change. It used to upset me but now I just know it's part of life. People who walk into our lives always have the option to walk out again. But the time you got to spend with them doesn't lose it's significance. It changes who you are, where you go, how you see the world.

As we look forward to Christmas, and the coming of the newborn Son of God, who exists forever, reigns for ever, and loves forever, we must reassess our own interpretation of what our relationship with Jesus means for our lives. Is he someone we think of often? Rely on often? Talk to often? Today is the start of a brand new day. It's the only day we're guaranteed right now. Let's use it to treasure what needs to be treasured, let go of what needs to be let go, and focus on what should be focussed on at this time.

Strip back what needs to be stripped back, and remember that the reason for Christmas wasn't to spend thousands of pounds on presents, decorations, Christmas cards, food and drink. It's the start of a relationship. The start of those special memories. Those moments of tears, heartache, and pain. Of forgetting, and remembering, and knowing that spending time with someone, no matter how short, can change your life forever.

Lost

It's been almost two weeks since my last blog post, which I have to say generated a lot more conversation with people than I thought it would. I forget sometimes that some people actually pay attention to what I post on here or on Facebook. A lot of the time it seems like I'm typing away to an empty screen.

I think that reflects a lot of how I feel about my life. I try my hardest to do the right thing, to help people, to be there when people need me. I often get it wrong and am always letting people down and sometimes it is weeks between when a friend contacts me for a meet up and when I actually get back to them. I know that I neglect a lot of people in my life because I'm too busy running around making other people happy. I'm sorry if you're one of those people. I'm going to try really hard to not neglect you; but please forgive me in advance.

I don't even know what I'm trying to say here to be honest. Feel free to give up now if you wish. I just, I'm currently trying to get my head around a conversation I just had with a male friend who yesterday I vowed I would never again speak to or let back into my heart. We had a falling out (of sorts) a few months ago and since then things have been pretty crappy. I miss him like crazy. I see things that I want to give him, laugh at things we used to laugh at together, hear songs that remind me of our friendship, and it breaks my heart. So for the sake of being able to move on and not be hurt any more by our falling out, I felt the need to put that our friendship behind me, and walk away. Yesterday I felt like I had just reached the end of the road.

The decision I made yesterday to do that was not easy, and it hasn't come quickly. This is a person who has been in my life for almost two years, and someone with whom I believe I have a connection that goes far beyond the realms of friendship or love or being like siblings. It's not romantic, its not about being together every day, but in its essence its about understanding what it feels like to be the other person. That's as good as I can get at explaining it. No-one understands it: at least no-one I have tried to talk to about it. Just me and him. It's something special and it's something unique, and I believed; until recently, that it was wholly God given. We've had our disagreements in the past, but we've always managed to put them behind us and move on. This one though, just seemed to be the end. Things have been difficult for a few months, and rather than continually putting myself through the agony of hoping it would get better, I decided to just say: enough is enough.

That was yesterday. And today is today. And today it seems, God had other plans. Whether He was waiting for me to hit rock bottom, I don't know. Maybe it was just a coincidence. But today, for one reason or another. We started talking. (Messaging.... it's the modern day equivalent.) At first it was awkward. I felt like we were both talking from anger or frustration or from not really trusting the other. And we both said lots of things that perhaps we should have said before and didn't. And then gradually, slowly, the sharp and bitter messages melted away, and the true hurt and heart came through into the conversation. And all of a sudden, as if in a flash, things seemed to be okay again. I felt it inside my chest before my head engaged with it. And I realised that in all this time, I was hurting so much that it didn't really occur to me that he was hurting too.

I've been living in my head, and everything he's done recently I've felt a personal stab. I guess when I don't talk to someone, and they don't talk to me, I automatically assume that the other person is thinking the worst of me. It seemed like he wanted nothing more to do with me. And he probably would have been justified in thinking so. I don't know. But now it just seems like everything that we were not talking about, everything that has hurt us both -  if we had acted out of love, if we had made a single move differently; had talked; none of this would have happened. Who knew.

And now I'm feeling a bit lost and as if I just dreamt the last few hours. I have dreams every night. And I've probably dreamt him several times in the last few months. I've searched and longed and clung to any small or minute (or non-existent) clue that he might be missing me too. Thinking about me too. Wanting to talk to me. And if I'm honest, it destroyed me. And now I have this 3 hour conversation that is all mine. And I have no idea what to do with it. And I'm almost terrified to go to bed in case when I wake up tomorrow this was a dream. Where do I place a friendship and companionship in my life that I've spent the last few months trying to cut out and forget about? My head says one thing and my heart another. Everyone who has seen or spoken to me in the last month knows how hard I have tried to move on and put this behind me. And now it's back. It's like a lost treasure that has been searched and searched for and never found. And then, after years and years of being missing: it's within reaching distance: it's right in front of me. Part of me has missed it. And part of me thought I could live without it. Which part do I listen to?

I love him. With more than just my head and my heart. He's more than just my big brother or my friend or my fellow depressive confidante: he's like someone God sent me. A shining light in my darkness. A whisper in my ear. A moment of peace in the storm. A hug. A kind word. A wink or a kiss on the head. He's me. But he's also my worst enemy. The person that if I let him in, has the potential to hurt me the most, destroy me, ruin my day, my week, my month. Drive me to the edge of my darkness. He's my dream and my nightmare. Because he's human. And he makes mistakes, just like I do. He gets frustrated, just like I do. He gives up, just like I do. Can I ever truly walk away? I honestly don't know. And I'm not even sure I want to.