God makes beauty from ashes

Hey, I'm in a dark pit. It's dark and cold and uncomfortable. I feel alone, lost, afraid and hopeless. I feel overwhelmed and defeated. That's all I can come up with today.

Alun has been deeply unhappy leading up to Christmas. He always is. This year though, it's been a lot harder as I lost my job and my confidence - and Alun started taking his grief over the loss of his best friend and turning it into a torrent of anger towards me. He doesn't act like this normally, and it's been hard being called "dickhead" and "knob head/knob chops" by an angry and awful version of the person I love most in the world. Alun doesn't normally take his sadness out on me and I am normally in a stronger/happier state so I can take whatever he dishes out with grace, kindness, patience and love. Not this year. It's all been too much these last few months. I've dealt with 3 months of bullying from "Tina" in the job I thought I loved. When someone bullies you, your entire job becomes a battlefield and I started to dread going into work. The things Tina said to me and the way she treated me was pretty awful but what

K guys, These are the friends I love who I KNOW for SURE read this blog of mine: Becci Christabel Sammy F I think Marc reads it...he's possibly gotten fed up with my bollocks and stopped. But is there anyone else??? Please let me know because I want to send you a personal 'thank you' for hanging in there with me. Becci - you can expect a basket of goodies to arrive at your door next week. From me with love. No, it's not a card and I'm sorry I lied about that. If you really want a card, I will send you one. I have your address now :) haha. Sammy - you WILL get a card from me sometime next week. But you'll also get a little bouquet of flowers. I hope you'll love them as much as I love hearing from you. Christabel - you should arrive home to a bouquet of flowers from me today. After a long day of work with your sore tooth, I hope these will cheer you up. I love you so much and you are not alone in what you're going through. Marc - I

Hello there, Darling. You and I probably contact each other even more than Alun and I do, but I still wanted to write a blog today, just for you. This is my way of 'speaking to you in love' the way you always do for me. Are you ready? I know you've read a load of books and probably talked to a load of people to get wisdom and advice on your break up but I thought I'd add my "5 steps to get through a breakup" to get you through until you can see light again at the end of the tunnel. This is from my personal experience and I hope it blesses you. That's the plan, anyway. 1. You're grieving, so you'll go through stages of wanting X back, hating X with the passion of a 1000 suns, being angry and wanting to shout at him, being sad because all the happy memories will hurt...and so on. Grief isn't linear so you don't pass all 7 stages of grief one by one, come to the end, cross the finish line and you're done - no . You'll bounce ba

"How far away are you?" Alun asked over the phone. I could hear his smile and it made me smile, too. "Hmm...maybe a few minutes. I'm glad you called because I'm a bit lost...where on earth is Dirty Nellies???" Alun laughed "It's on a little hidden lane way...where abouts are you?" "Across from the Mantra hotel" "Then you're almost here, keep walking forward and take the next left, it's a little laneway and that's where the pub is" "I'll come get you!" I heard Mom's voice sing out. Alun laughed "She'll be here in a second" he assured her. "No. I'm going" and I heard the scrape of chairs and Alun's chuckle. "Haha. See you soon, Gorg" and he hung up. It was a 40 degree day so I was glad at the thought of respite in a dark, air-conditioned pub in just a few minutes. I walked and walked, wondering if somehow I'd missed the "little lan

I don't know why I've applied for this job permanently, because I hate being here. Actually, it is a fairly good job. It has it's ebbs and flows of 60 people all needing reception while the phone is ringing and emails are popping up steadily in my reception inbox...and then times of nothing where I can thankfully get on with work. It's sitting next to "Amos" that drives me insane. I don't know what job is worth the incredible amount of stress this puts me under every single day. If I didn't have a job, I'd want one with all my heart. When I'm in a job, I long for a week off. I must make God shake his head with wanting the opposite of what He gives me and complaining every time He tries to bless me. You're not alone in this, Lord God. I shake my head at myself, too. I would like to be poor and happy in the woods and as far away from "Amos" as possible, please.

I don't mean that romantically, by the way. I really believe everyone has 1 or more of these love languages: Words : being spoken to, written to lovingly - the opposite - being talked to harshly, told off, yelled at or written to in harsh words can break your heart Touch : Being held, touched, gentle squeeze of your hand etc...very nice. The opposite - absolutely horrible. Time : Spending time together with the ones you love. If this is your love language, you like doing activities (cycling, picnics, camping, hiking etc) with the people you love most. Gifts : Giving or receiving gifts is something that just makes your day. Acts of service : If you're in pain/upset/struggling and someone comes by to do the dishes for you, tidy around you, sends you pizza so you don't have to cook dinner, folds your laundry - you are in heaven and this is what you do for others if you think they need some encouragement/love Mine is words. So when I'm down, if you text, email

My appointment with George was a little better yesterday. The front gate wasn't locked and the front screen door was propped open. I didn't have to ring the doorbell. George appeared with his familiar smile that bunches up his cheeks. "Hey you - come on in" Ok. This was a bit better. We both sat in his black leather chairs facing each other. We talked. George drew on the whiteboard again. He stuck to the book in his manner with me and his advice was professional and very clinical. George tends to go off on a tangent and when I'm in a better frame of mind than I am now, I recognise it quickly and I tell him off "George.  LISTEN  to me". He'll laugh "Oops. Sorry!" and we'll get back on track. Yesterday I just let him meander off the track. I really needed to talk to him about my fear, anxiety and depression. I really needed some help sorting through the tangle of emotions in my mind and heart. George passed over this and s

Okay. I'll try another run at this. Have you ever leaned back in your chair and leaned that bit too far and almost toppled over? But then you caught yourself in time and stopped it? That panicked "OMG" feeling - that rush of fear? Normally people feel it for just a few seconds. I feel it ALL. THE. TIME. That "OH CRAP" feeling? It is AWFUL and I go about my day constantly on edge . I thought breaking up with a boy was painful and complicated. So is breaking up with a Psychologist . George has suddenly stopped texting me stupid cartoons, gardening advice, pictures of his tomatoes and Monty Python quotes. When I was obsessed in the last month with suicide, I texted George for help. In the past, he's called me immediately: "Are you ok? Can you get to a hospital? What can I do?" This time, his text read " I am fully booked for the next 4 weeks. I don't need to remind you about all the emergency services and help lines available,

First, we'll start with "Amos". The facts: Amos of late has been 'too friendly' with me. Too familiar in the way he treats me and talks to me. I hate it. I guess that yeah, in some cases, you can meet a person and both hit it off. You can talk for hours on the first day you met and you can feel as if you've known each other for years. I've had that in many cases with so many of my friends. One moment you're strangers politely introducing yourself to each other and in the next moment, you're crying laughing over something you've bonded over "OMG me too! Hahahah!" and feel like you've been friends all your life. Some people you just instantly bond with, you know? When I first met Amos however, it was under strictly professional circumstances and no, we didn't "gel" instantly. I was not used to meeting such a large, formidable (seriously, this guy is built like a tank), really, really dark guy. Amos is so da

Something about being in Coles supermarket sets my bum off. I don't know what it is. Probably because my ass hates me and wants to poo when I'm the furtherest away from a working toilet possible. This time, a toilet was only about 500 meters away. Lucky me. So I was in Coles with an armful of lovely junk food when my stomach rumbled and I knew - as we all do - that I had about 2 minutes to find a toilet. That 2 minutes was going by entirely too fast for my liking. I didn't bother paying for my groceries - that's how much of a hurry I was in to get to a toilet. I just put them on a random shelf and I RAN for the nearest toilet. "Closed for cleaning" read the sign on the Ladies' toilets. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? Now, I was DESPERATE . I was in a public shopping mall, far from home and not willing to explode in my pants. There would be nowhere to shower and get clean so I'd have to figure this one out. FAST. I shuffled uncomforta

Before I start complaining, I've had a really good few days off. It's been so good to wake up when I naturally am awake and not in a panic when my alarm goes off for work. It's been nice to do a 'full makeup' look on my face because I can take the time to 'fill in' my eyebrows and do contouring and pick shades of blush that I like. I've found out TWO coats of mascara are life changing. SO GOOD. But being home is the worst place to be as well as the best place...because I find myself doing the laundry. Then the dishes. "Well, while I'm here..." and I'm cleaning the bathroom or sweeping the floors. Yesterday I slid myself under the bed (I've never done that before, I felt like Ethan from "mission impossible" when he's laying flat above the floor, suspended on a wire) and cleaned out the dust along the skirting board which had built up over what looked like months and was about an inch high. I'll have to have a wo

My whole life, I feel like I'm caging myself. Watching what I say. Being careful to be soft, quiet and pleasing. Being what everyone needs me to be so much I forget who I actually am. I am so locked into being 'liked' that I spend my life - my whole life - playing whatever role is needed and losing any authenticity I used to have when I was little. So I always say "yes" I say "sure" when inside I'm dying. I say "of course" when really, I'd like to say no. I let people use and abuse me so they 'like' me and most of them don't even care about me. But sometimes...just SOMETIMES I do what I want. Sometimes I go to the beach on my own and watch the waves. I love being by the sea more than anything. Sometimes I take myself to a movie. I go ALONE so that I don't have to look after anyone. (Just lately, I've found an amazing 'movie buddy' to go with. Cat is warm, sweet, caring and understands that I

From work on Monday, I sent Alun an email. I promised: To not commit suicide To not give up To find my resilience and to keep going To take all my meds, attend all my medical/psych appointments and do everything I can to get better. I asked Alun to help me by: - Writing letters to me . Oh how I love to get letters. From anyone - but especially from the man I love. - INSISTING that I rest - because left to my own devices, I would spend my "week off" cleaning and gardening and wearing myself out so I would be in no better state next week than if I went to work. - Touching me as much as possible. "Hug me or hold my hand as much as you can, Gorg - it makes me feel so safe and so close to you" I pleaded. "You do your part, I'll do mine. I love you. I need you" I ended the email. I exhaled as I pressed "send". I didn't realise I'd been holding my breath. But everyone says when someone is struggling, they should ask for h

I feel like a bruised reed in a rice patty field. Just barely hanging in there as the water rushes past me. My roots desperately gripping the watery soil and when the wind blows...well...it's just a matter of time before I come apart completely. Just a matter of time before I lose my grounding. I feel so fragile that any interaction at all - ANYTHING - wears me out. I have such great friends around me - checking in on me every day and wanting to help me and love me through this but even responding to their kind messages hurts somehow. This is so hard, you guys. I saw a new GP on Monday after work. I really just wanted some anti anxiety tablets. Dr S is very young, very pretty and has thick, glossy, gorgeous hair framing a sweet, honey-coloured Indian face. She's gorgeous. She's also very smart, very 'switched on' and before you know it, I was in tears, head in my hands, stammering out "I just...I just need a rest..." She declared I was in a bad p

Trembling, I messaged Becci from the train station: "I'm scared and I don't want to go into work" I think in UK time, it was when everyone is sleeping so I didn't expect a reply, I just wanted a friend to know what I was going through and I know Bec will listen without judgement. Amos works a 12 hour shift every day. So he is at work at 7am and leaves at 7pm. This means he is on reception every day before I am. So I HAVE to face him FIRST THING. That is a very scary concept indeed. I sat on the train into work shaking. Feeling more and more scared as the stations drew me closer to the city centre. Calm down, JD. But I couldn't. I was so scared! My feet felt like lead as I walked through the beautiful city malls to my building. I looked up it from the ground floor and enjoyed the fleeting thought of just running away. How lovely it would be to go home. But I made myself catch the elevator up to the 3rd floor. "Ping!" and the el

Have you ever actually tried making lemonade? IT. IS. A. BASTARD. To get the quantities just right and to make it something palatable and not disgusting takes work. A lot of work. So, to whoever said "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade" - SCREW YOU, MAN. What if you don't even like lemonade? *deep breaths* As you can see, I'm anxious and angry all the time . If I'm not running on rage or fear, I'm crying. I can't live like this, you guys.  I'm holding onto life with my very fingertips and this is tiring and painful. So painful. I spent the weekend catching public transport with my earphones in and Matchbox20 (my favourite band) blasting. I think I listened to all their albums and let Rob Thomas (he is SO HOT, by the way) soothe my broken heart. I cried. For hours as the buses and trains let the world flash by in the big widows I leant my forehead against. I didn't care if people were watching. Next time, I think sunglass

Yesterday, I sat in a window alcove on one of the busiest streets in the city and cried. I didn't just cry, by the way - I wailed . I howled. Tears didn't fall daintily down my cheeks - they poured. I didn't care. This is me at my lowest point. I have just had enough. Here's what led to it: My love of my mates makes me want to go over and above for them. That works out pretty well most of the time, but when I'm doing it for multiple mates at the same time AND feeling depression arrive in my mind and heart...it all lead to yesterday's complete and utter breakdown. Firstly, I want to explain. I like metaphors. Very much. When a friend shares their problems with me, I feel like they're giving me a heavy rock to carry. They're saying to me "hey, I'm dealing with some heavy things right now - my arms are sore and tired - do you mind carrying this for me for a bit?" when they tell me all their problems. I'm a good person with a