Next, please

Got all these demons and I can't stop 'em
To tell you the truth doc, I might have a problem
                           Robbie Williams 'Good Doctor'

And another thing, what's with these people who start blogs and then just friggin' disappear? Tossers...

All right, so I've been away for a few months and it's not like I haven't thought about blogging but there have been various phases of my life where my head is so densely packed with the contortions of my own psyche that I literallly can't get them out and I am just coming out of one of those phases now. Could be worse, could be like when I went to counselling in my late twenties and spent at least three sessions unable to speak at all to the woman counselling me. I wanted to, just couldn't find the words to get it out. Not sure if she understood that or was just thinking yippee here's half an hour where I don't have to listen to somebody whining.  You see why I remain cynical about counselling.

I haven't looked back to see what I said last time I wrote and I won't, because while I am sure it was full of my usual wit and wisdom har har I mean it when I say I am sick of looking back. This is because I have spent too much time looking back recently and for fucking forever before that. Why do I do it? Spending my time in regret and then regretting that I spent so much time in regret. Aaaarrrrgghhh!!

Since last writing I hit a wall and it has been a hard one. Was sick for a couple of months, the kindest man in the world was sick, had a big ME relapse, was definitely suffering some form of post traumatic stress thing after the visa palava, started putting weight back on and possibly as a result of all that started reflecting waaay too much on my last three years here in the UK and coming to the conclusion that I've basically been banging my head against a wall the whole time...probably the same wall I smashed into in December, when a stupid disappointment crushed me and I basically couldn't get out of bed for a week. I'm not going to say what it was because I feel like a bloody idiot that it affected me so badly and yeah I should be kinder to myself because I was run down and low anyway, blah blah blah, doesn't stop me feeling like a bloody idiot unfortunately. Can't help it, that's how I roll but suffice to say December was bloody awful and I was immensely lonely and homesick and feeling very, very much a stranger in a strange land.  Definitely needed a nice cup of harden up, or maybe a vat!

I am a person who likes progress. I like to progress, I like to work towards progressing and I get immensely frustrated when circumstances conspire against me and I can't move forward. I have never been a person who can just be, in a Zen like state of blissful oblivion, letting life pass her by. It would have been a fucking sight easier if I was. I sometimes wonder whether the ME was the universe's way of teaching me that my value is not is what I do or achieve but who I am. If it was, sorry universe, I am shite at this. I suspect I may always be.

Homesickness has been a big, big theme of the last couple of months and it's been a hard one to deal with because the kindest man in the world, bless him, blames himself for 'dragging me here' so I don't really want to talk about it with him and I honestly don't want to go home for good because I think there's still stuff in this hemisphere I need to learn from but, but I really want to go home right now. Just for a while. Not saying you Britishers are terrible or awful but I long at the moment to see open Aussie faces and talk full on Shazza shit with my friends over a cold beer in a hot humid beer garden. This has been part of the darkness of the last few months, where I fear that I will go home and things have shifted and my longing to talk shit with my friends results in finding out they have moved on. From me. Moved on from me.

This is a hard one. I've never really felt like an important person, somebody that someone would wait for, somebody that somebody would go seriously out of their way for. Therefore while I know while my friends love me and I'll get back and it'll be like I haven't gone, I don't know it really. And it scares the fucking crap out of me. My friends are my family, more than my whacked out actual family is. I can't lose my family, not again.
                          
Along with all this, I made a huge decision in December (what was it about December ffs) and that was to sell my house in Brisbane. There are all sorts of logical, sensible reasons for this which do and must outweigh the fact that house has been home for fifteen years and while admittedly some of those fifteen years in that house were utter shite, it is still home and a house that I love. But it's time to part the ways.

For someone who likes progress so much, I really do have trouble letting go and it's come to me in the last couple of months why. I don't really believe in the concept of letting go of something and being assured that better will come. Call it bitter experience. I believe the theory but the practice has proved otherwise. All the more reason to keep letting go until the good comes but having given up so much over the last few years, up to and including my country, I'm a bit over it at the moment. When does the reward for the sacrifice come? Will I ever really feel like I have a life here?

Anyway, all that and panic attacks too, it's been an eventful few months but am ready to move on now thanks. Got my design course to finish (one of the few things that's been going well) and need to get my shit back together and get some more weight off and confidence back and a social life and tickets back to Australia and some vestige of sanity. I like to think that's not asking too much. I bloody hope not.