Couldn't face posting an entry yesterday.  Felt pretty weird all day.  Think it was the communication with the ex that caused it.  Anyway, last night she replied to my email.  It kinda went along the lines of "I'm not gonna ease your conscience, I do hate you and I don't think fondly of our time together.  Those memories are overshadowed by the bad ones."  It was a pretty long email, but she could have saved herself a lot of typing by just sending....

"Me, You're a fucking Cunt

Regards,

Her"

So yea, I felt fuckin horrible reading it.  And in true fashion this wee guy inside decided to laugh at me, tell me how much of a horrible cunt I was and that I'd probably be better of cutting myself, or going and getting fucked up. 

But I never, I just sucked it up.  No cutting, no boozing no nuffink or nuffink....innit....

I rationalised.  I was in a situation I wasn't happy with, and I dealt with it.  OK, my state of mind at that time wasn't particularly great.  And I didn't deal with it very well.  But I did my fuckin' best...  I tried.  I knew something had to be done and I fuckin' made it so.  I'm sorry to the people that I hurt along the way (she said she doesn't believe I'm sorry), I am truely fuckin' sorry.  It's not in my nature to fuck people over (she thinks I screwed her over).  I go out of my way to accommodate people, to make sure everyone else is ok.  Probably more so I don't have to think about how much of a fuckin' mess I'm in myself than anything else, but still... It's good to not fuck people over.

And then I rationalised again, I tried to talk to her... explain that I know that I dealt with things wrong, but ultimately it was the right thing to do.  I was going to reply to the reply, but fuckit... I don't need to.  I tried to offer her some kind of explanation and she wasn't interested.  I don't need to explain myself anymore.  I can let that whole thing go.  I'm out.

So today, I feel pretty good.  Getting through loads of work.  And generally enjoying being alive again.  Not had a drink since last Friday, been eating much healthier and I feel fuckin' good for it.  I'm gonna have a few beers tonight, but that's ok right?  One night a week, and not getting too fucked up is a healthy attitude to booze right?

Fuckit... it's healthier than it was!  That's for sure.

Progress... one step at a time.  Innit?

I'm learning too... On how to "catch myself"... to not wallow and let this wee "friend" inside me get the better of me, and drag me into the depths that I've let him take me all too often.  I feel like I can control him, notice the signs when he's coming out to play and make sure that I'm in control of how he behaves.

I dunno whether people reading this prefer to hear how shite I'm feeling or that I'm doing ok.  I guess it's pretty boring to read that someone is doing ok.  But then it starts to become shite, lies to keep readers... when all this is, is a vent... somewhere for me to lay down all my shit.  And maybe give one person a bit of hope, that even when there seems like there's nowhere to turn, and that nothing matters and that you'd be better of harming yourself or topping yourself... That one day, it gets better.  Accepting that in general, life is shite.... bad things happen that you have no control over, and you need to deal with those when they come.  But sometimes, things happen that make it all worthwhile... you make someone smile, you make someone happy. 

And you know it's worthwhile being alive.

Day 3 of general fuckin goodness.  I feel fuckin' *amazing*... Better than good.  It's like a wee holiday from depression, not sure how long it'll last but fuckin hell I'm gonna make the most of it.

I had 2 Weetabix this morning (is it Weetabix's? or Weetabii perhaps, hmm... I'll need to find that out.)  Then a 357 calorie prawn andwich and a mixed fruit type thing from Sainsbury's for lunch.  So gonna try and keep that generally decent eating pattern going.  I also thought about braving the weigh in.  But it's remaining a thought for now.  Pretty worried about the result of that.  But fuckit, I need to face it, so likely this weekend.

Ordered myself a punchbag too that I'm gonna hang in the garage, I had one before when I lived in Glasgow and it's a great way to exercise.  Just knocking fuck out of someone.  Haha...

ANNNNND....while I'm on this whole "fuckit I'm gonna get healthy thing"... I spoke to a boy at work about coming along to training with his Sunday League team.  I reckon I'm good enough to play at that level, but I'm quite happy to go along to training for a wee bit and get down to my fighting weight before getting a proper game.

But yea, on the whole....not too fuckin bad at all...

On another note that boosted my mood slightly, I was walking into the supermarket last night and this good looking girl's face lit up and she said hi.  My brain rifled through the files to see if it could figure out who this could possibly be, and eventually we got the relevant dossier.  She was one of the Polish girls from the other night in the pub.  I was talking to her for quite a bit, making her laugh etc... she'd been sitting with her boyfriend looking pretty fucking miserable.  So when he fucked off I slithered in like a snake. 

I'm not saying that she wants me to fuck her or anything, and in all honesty... she wasn't as hot as I remembered her.  But she was still really nice, and on Friday night she was wearing *amazing* footwear.  A pair of Red Boots... Oh My Soul... they were fantastic.  I must have mentioned elsewhere in the blog that I like a girl with good shoes... But anyway, yea... it was nice to have someone I'd spoke to in the pub look genuinely pleased to have bumped into me and obviously didn't think I was as much of a useless scum of the earth cunt that I did on the Saturday morning.  So yea... I'm coming round to the idea that I'm not as much of a horrible cunt as this wee guy inside keeps telling me I am.

AND THEEEN I got a text message from a girl I used to work with in Glasgow who I love dearly, and probably who I should have been with if I wasn't such a useless cunt.  But anyway... it was along the lines of "Hiya Darlin', how you been doing? Haven't heard from you for ages. Miss you loads xxxX D"

Again, I don't think she wants me to fuck her, she has a boyfriend and stuff, and maybe I wouldn't want to ruin the friendship by fucking her.  Aye... maybe... haha... But it's nice to know that people are thinking about you and that people do think you're a good person.  I miss her too, she's an amazing wee girl.  One of the best... And I do regret not at least seeing if we could have had a run at something.  But them's the breaks.  What you gonna do huh?

But yea, I'll definitely meet up with her when I go home in a couple of weeks.  And this time I'll not fuck it up by getting too pished that I won't want to see anyone ever again.  I also think that last time I was worried that I'd just ask her to run away and marry me because I was such a fuckin' wreck.  But I'm beginning to warm to the idea that it's ok to have friends that are chicks.  Even if sometimes your hormones kick in and you want to fuck them, like I do on a regular basis... That's ok too.  But a friendship can become worth more than a shag.

Did those words actually just come from me?

Fuckin hell...

Maybe I am ill after all...

So.......

This fuckin' therapy business.  I was thinking about twanging the whole gig.  It depressed me that I was paying for someone to let me talk shite to them.  And what was I really getting out of it?  Hmmm...  I was in tears on the way to my appointment.  "Oh woe is me, everything is shite", "I'm being allowed to leave my well paid job which puts me in a position to be able to afford to pay for therapy, driving along the road in my BMW worrying about the fact my £50 notes are too big for my wallet"

Then I got there, and me and "the woman", in fact, let's call her my Therapist.  Yea, My Therapist and I had a wee ding dong argument.  About cutting.  I was doing well, a wee jab here and there.  It makes you feel better, how can that be bad?  Had her on the ropes with my "it's not any worse than drinking or smoking puff... Harming your body for the short term benefit you get."  That rocked her, I thought I was seconds away from the kill. 

Then...

She came flying back with a knockout blow.  From nowhere.  And it was a fuckin' cracker.  She pointed out that the scars on my arm are from months, some even years ago.  And that when I look at them I'm reminded that I'm depressed.  But I think they almost remind me to *be* depressed.  Fuckin' hell.  That's amazing, she's so fuckin' right and it was the tiniest wee thing.  I should have worked that out myself.  But I'm pleased that she beat me, it was a cracking debate.  And she beat me.  I never lose, if I'm losing I'll make shit up to make sure I win.  But there I was.... Helpless, beat and I fuckin' loved it.

How can I cut myself now when I can't justify it anymore?  It is worse than drinking or smoking... No question. 

We also went over the things that I do with regards to "goals" or "targets" that I set myself.  Always thinking that if I get there then I'll be "happy".  And then being disappointed when I do eventually get there and I'm not happy.  Today we spoke about how my targets were actually sound.  It was my attitude of thinking that once I got there I'd be content.  She explained that she thinks that I'm the type of person that's always going to try and strive for more.  To keep on going.  And that, that's ok.  It's a good thing.  That I should keep setting these targets, but set them as stepping stones.  Set realistic targets, achieve them, and kick on from there.  Decide what the next target will be.  Maybe that will never stop, and the targets keep getting achieved.  Or maybe one day I'll get somewhere and say.  OK... That'll do.  I'm happy here. 

Either way it doesn't matter really does it?  Just enjoy achieving these goals... Take things as they come and ride out the highs and lows that come with being a human being. 

I know this might sound like new age, hippy bullshit, but I really feel I have some clarity today.  Who knows how long it'll last.  Maybe I'll watch that fuckin' football team tonight and find myself in the bowels of satan desperately hoping to crawl out his asshole.  Who knows, but at least I know now that I am capable of feeling good again.  I feel better than I have for ages.  But not in an unhealthy, out-of-control way.  In a normal.... light-at-the-end-of-the tunnel way.

Life is pretty simple really, things come along and you deal with them as best you can.   But you make sure you deal with them, don't just bottle it all in and hope that something else will deal with it in time.  I have some work I need to get done, I explained all *this* shit to my mate PK who got me the work.  I had to tell him really, I didn't want him thinking I was just being a cunt and fucking him around.  I did feel like I was a cunt though.  Because I knew he'd be the one taking all the flak for it.  There are a few people owed a pint when I go home, and PK is definitely one of those.

Anyway... enough of this happy nonsense...

Ha...

Cheers...

Me