I went to Italy once. Italians know how to make a good pizza…also icecream, but that’s not the point of this post.

So, what makes a good pizza? Quality ingredients? Combined together in the capable hands of a skilled artisan pizza chef? Yeah, probably.

Well, I’m part Italian…so maybe that means I have a head start ;) I also have fairly good genes.I know that’s quite a strange thing to boast about but it’s true 😂😂. I say good genes as I have intelligence, good physical health and am also fairly hot (apparently). So the ingredients which make up the pizza of me are half decent all things considered.

I’ve totes nailed the quality ingredients part. nods confidently

I’m also part Spanish which probably partly accounts for my Mediterranean (interesting) temperament.

Now, the artisan chef bit….my mum did her best but she was limited by her own mental health and the fact she married an arsehole. So that took her mind of the chef skill part…so she never became an artisan pizza chef …and my dad is a cunt. Nuff said.

But despite the shit chefs I was allocated at birth I think I make a pretty good human metaphorical pizza 😊

I’m tasty 😂 I’m attractive 😂 I smell gorgeous 😂…and I’ll emotionally fill you up with my friendly, approachable, empathic, caring, bright and shiny personality.

Flashes white teeth which sparkle brightly as much as her blog name suggests

Consequently when people online find me, they think “I want a slice of that Summery pizza”.

So because I’m generous I give you a slice. By giving you a slice, I mean…I give you my time and my attention and I emotionally invest in you. I feel your energy and respond to it. I empathically pick up on stuff for you that you can’t quite deal with yet. I see things in you that you haven’t realised about yourself, and I use my intuition to know when is the time to strike to let you in on what I think might help you.

Thats quite a lot of investment every time I have an interaction. 

If you’re my friend, my entire being is orientated towards improving your mood, making you feel better, making suggestions I hope will help you move forward, making you laugh at times to lighten the atmosphere when it gets heavy, communI caring honestly and openly with you, and just being an all round good pizza basically.

Good pizzas smell enticing and taste good…so people naturally don’t wanna stop at one slice. Hell no.

You’ve tasted yummy pizza….so you want a bit more…course you do.

Next time you feel a bit shitty you’ll remember the emotional boosting pizza you had at the summerSHINES blog or by email or Facebook or messenger or twitter or wherever the hell else you find me.

So you reach for a slice.

I’m a nice person and I care…so I gladly give you a slice and another and another.

When this blog was new I had time to share big slices of me, but as my friend list has mushroomed the slices per person have had to get smaller.

While you’re enjoying chomping on your slice, there are sometimes many others simultaneously dining on the pizza of me.

I don’t say no. Because I’m a people person. And I’m used to serving the emotional needs of others above my own. My mum taught me how to do that….cheers mum for that vital life skill…said with a skowl.

So I end up looking a lot like this…

And then this….

And then this….

And that is pretty much where I’m at now….
I’m an empty circle where there used to be a pizza. No topping. No base. No sauce. I’m just a few half chewed crusts.

And somehow I have to rebuild myself into a fully formed and topped whole pizza again.

Like how???

I don’t like living as a bundle of crusts. It feels crap.

I want to be a whole pizza again.

The only way I can become whole again is to have time alone where I don’t offer to let anyone emotionally eat me.

I also need to give less slices out for free and be a lot choosier for my own mental health.

This post isn’t intended to be arsey to my friends….as I don’t want to give anyone up. You all fuckin matter to me… that’s why I keep giving to you…and most of you invest back in return and if you eat a slice of me, you share a slice of you too…so fairs fair. Reciprocal pizza eating loveliness.

I don’t know what to do to make life easier and less knackering. I’m disabling the comments on this post purely because I don’t have the time or concentration ability to reply.

I have a full life. I’m a Mum. My blog is becoming something I love to write in, but I lack that easily available time which is frustrating.

My time management is completely rubbish and I need to prioritise and focus and sort my head out. That means no blog chatting for the foreseeable future. I never expected blogging to be such a time thief. I never expected following and commenting on other people’s blogs and replying to blog comments to be so time consuming.

I need to get me back.

I’ve become lost.

I need to become my own artisan pizza chef…and remould and recraft the pizza of me.

And that is what I will do.

And I cannot give out as many slices to you….I’m sorry. I have to change how I do things and this has been building for a while.

I guess I began blogging because I love to write…I didn’t envisage it to be mainly about chatting to people across the globe, typically offering my listening, empathy and advice. 

This pizza can’t be eaten at the same rate anymore. Otherwise there’ll be nothing left of me :(

SummerSHINES  X 




Here it is…later than planned as I did my 5k park run this morning which was the finish line moment (kinda) of RED January. I am knackered in bed recovering as my fitness when I began this challenge was abysmal and isn’t loads better now zzzzzzz. Just two more days I think left of this challenge? I’m too tired to count or even know what date it is 😴😴😴

Anyway here is Sharpie Sunday…coming to you from my bedroom 😂

Today’s creative theme is….

Lol 😂 I love doing those sharpie Sunday things 😁 I am always amused even if no one else is 😂😂😂

Here are my before and after 5k photos to signal the (almost) end of RED January.

I wasn’t smiley on the after photo because I was emotional, knackered, enthused and miserable all at the same time, plus I’d literally only just finished. 

On the MH side of things, my mental health is absolutely shite at the moment I can’t lie. So I ran today’s run for suicide awareness and also wrote some posts on the facebook group for that purpose. 

It was so special when my husband came into view waiting for me by the finishing post. I also beat my time so got a PB of 36 minutes 55 secs which is good for me considering where I started from in terms of fitness. I know other people can run a 5k faster than that…but I take comfort from knowing I’m lapping everyone on the couch. 😊

I’m so glad I took part in RED January. Maybe next January some of you across the world will run it with me. That’s a nice thought. 
Happy Sunday bloggers. Off to partake in some hygge Xx 😚😙


Tw. I discuss some very difficult themes here including child abuse and suicide.
‘Why’ is probably one of the most important words in the English language. Without being able to be ask why, nobody would ever learn anything. Children wouldn’t learn about their environment and how the universe works without the question contained within a single three letter word, “why”

Why is the sky blue?

Why am I here?

Why can’t I have chocolate?

A socially inappropriate use of the word ‘why’ could be (off the top of my head)….

Q.Would you like to meet up for drinks with me after work? 


Meaning no bloody chance do you have with that hottie that you wanna shag! (Why would I wanna meet for afterwork drinks with you of all people??!)

A wholly appropriate use of the word why, but one where honest answers are very rarely given would be….

“WHY the fuck did you abuse me?” said to your childhood abuser.

I’ve asked that question to him in countless letters and never got an answer…so I had to decide to stop trying for an answer.

I gave up asking why. 

I stopped contact.

All childhood abuse victims get to that point eventually. You have to for your own sanity. You have to stop asking why and expecting a truthful answer.

To get an admission of guilt from someone who abused you is so unlikely I’ve never heard of it. 

And to get an admission of guilt and a full and frank explanation of WHY they ever abused you to begin with is surely impossible?! If anyone reading has has this experience please correct me, but I know of liyerally NO ONE out of my very large circle of PTSD abuse/rape surviving friends who ever got an explanation of WHY by their perpetrator.

Why the hell does this important question never get answered?

This question of all questions.

And why as survivors do we even want to know ‘why’?

Tonight the ‘why’ question is all I can think about.  Why…and also how.

“How could you?”

“How the hell could you?”

“How the fucking hell could you have done this to me?”

“Why the fuck did you inflict that on me?”

Why why why? How?… What?

That is the confusion of coming to terms with your abuse history. You won’t get your questions answered…very much like someone who is bereaved by suicide. You can’t have that last conversation with that person saying why?…what went wrong? Why now? Why did you hurt me like this by leaving me behind? How did it feel when you died.

A person bereaved by suicide however is different to an abuse survivort as hey are physically incapable of asking the why questions, except at a graveside maybe. But you won’t get an answer.


But an abuser. They most likely will still be alive to ask ‘why’ to. 

Asking someone who is alive to get your questions asked and that courtesy to be refused is so frustrating like you wouldn’t believe.

They CAN answer you. But they don’t and they won’t.

Not only ‘why did you do it’ you wanna ask, but why didn’t you love me like you were supposed to? 

This is most pertinent in cases of incest abuse. 

That is what happened to me. Well some of it was family anyway.

Dad, why?

Why didn’t you love me?

Why did you cause harm?

Why did you expose me to other paedophiles?

Why didn’t you stop sooner?


Fucking why, dad?

And why to my brothers and my mother too…

I’ll never get an answer.

He’ll die.

They’ll all die.

I wonder if when he dies I’ll receive a letter in his belongings with a confession. One that he can’t get into trouble over as he will be dead. 


A letter with an explanation?


Maybe one from my mum?

I live in hope. But I can’t pin my healing on that coming true.

I just wish he’d die.

Thats the honest truth.

I want my mum to go too.

I often want to die myself. Suicidal ideation is part of my MH condition.

It’s a bitch, wanting to die yet trying to shine.

I do want death. Tonight I mean.

I didn’t earlier on today.

Maybe I won’t tomorrow.

But right now,  death would be nice…but I cant do it can I. Because I’d just be creating a situation where a widowed husband and two girls who love me and need me would be asking at my graveside ‘WHY’.



It is only, you are the only thing I’ve ever truly known
So, I hesitate, if I can act the same for you
And my darlin’, I’ll be rooting for you

I start the post with the lyrics to this love song by the inimitable London Grammar for this is the song that inspired my post. The song is moody and beautiful. Her voice is soulful, pure, unique, unfiltered, and touches me somewhere deep.

Music is open to interpretation. We make it our own. We prescribe our own meanings to it. We make music fit us and what is going on for us psychologically at whatever point in time. Music is wrapped around our shoulders and we arrange the musical and lyrical shawl so it fits and is comfortable and keeps us warm in all our emotionally cold spaces.

Why am I writing about a love song on summerSHINES? This is not my usual thing.

I don’t know why I don’t write explicitly about music more. Maybe I think music posts will be less relatable to readers as my music taste is not your taste?…however sometimes I wonder why so many people follow this blog when I am someone who has had a very unusual life and writes from that standpoint. Somehow you relate to it and my usual mind…so maybe this post will work too?

This post [and this song] is really a gift to my followers and regular blog readers.

I am not individually in love with every single one of you, as written about in love songs such as this one…but collectively I have a love for you-an appreciation-a gratitude-a curiosity as to why you continue to read, like and comment. Due to time constraints and the danger of overload I barely follow any blogs these days, yet many of you continue to read and support mine. I really appreciate that and don’t take it for granted one bit.

I have many online friends. You occupy a special place in my heart. Every one of you [except internet knobbers] are valued by me, and I root for you.

I want you to know that.

Not that long ago I used to do video messages everyday to people around the world. I used to spend a LONG time emailing advice and sharing stories and emotions with people who I came to realise had similar emotional difficulties to myself. My net for internet people is getting fuller and fuller. New fish keep getting caught in the net, adding to the shoal.

I’m no fisherlady, but I have a shoal of internet friends. [not these ones below, they are just for a laugh ;)]….


You are on my phone…little circles on Facebook messenger, the authors of emails in my inbox and texts on my phone. You send me photos and quotes and ‘thinking of you’ type thoughtful messages that enrich my days. You offer unconditional support and acceptance of me.

There are a few fish I’ve lost along the way, but generally my shoal has only ever increased in size, not decreased.  It isn’t about quantity either. Every interaction holds meaning and quality. When I write to you I write with my full attention on you [during school hours anyway lol]. If I advise you I try and make it helpful advice. You give me that same courtesy. It all means something to you and me, and that is why it’s special.

I am blessed with respectful relationships.

Relationships with mutual care, concern and sensitivity.

No one that does NOT meet that criteria will ever make the grade for me.

I believe after all the shit I’ve been dealt in life I am now deserving of something better-better treatment-better care-better understanding-better acceptance-better enjoyment of relationships with people I trust.

I associate with people who mirror that. I seek out people who are damaged in some way but keen and motivated to mend themselves [with assistance]. I am attracted to people who want to grow. I am attracted to people who are honest about their shortcomings. Narcissists I give a wide berth too. I’ve had enough contact with narcissists to sniff out the next one that I become aware of.

I’m left with people who are kind and genuine and sincere-people who root for me and want to see me succeed.

You’re all bloody nice and special fish lol ;)

I trust my friends implicitly.

Any internet strangers have to remain on probation for a while. I have to honour my PTSD. It is a sign of self respect to want to protect yourself from anyone who you just know is toxic for you or who you are not sure about.

Who is toxic to me may well be different to who is toxic for you however.

We’re all different.


Each of us are puzzles of a gazillion pieces.


It takes a while for the picture to form when you get to know someone. Humans are puzzles without any boxes picturing the finished product.


Because of my intuitive qualities, sometimes I am able to see the finished jigsaw, before the jigsaw itself (the human aka YOU) can see it…Sometimes you are so hard on yourself that you never allow yourself to see what picture you are making as clarity about who you are emerges.


That is why I’m friends with people. To help them slot together a few more jigsaw pieces of themselves together, so they begin to see the finished picture of what they could be.


Maybe you could call me an identity alchemist?

I dunno.

I befriend people who have a special something in them. A sparkle. A potential. A vision.

I don’t befriend people who are living but are essentially already dead, in spirit and soul.

I think I am on this earth to draw out the potential in people, who have potential.

I like building up someone’s confidence.

Right now I have a pet project. His name is Buffy Devane and he has been pushed out of the anxiety/depression nest by moi to start to blog. **Click to see his blog here

I will put hours and hours into particular people…many people in my internet net. That is done through love….and if that person I’m spending time with is YOU, or has ever been YOU, it is because…

“…my darlin’, I’m rooting for you”



Here is the song….it may not be to everyone’s taste, and this is a stripped down live version, but to me it is absolutely gorgeous and I can’t stop listening to it  X






I NEED to get back into regular blogging…why? Because newbies in wordpress town are usurping me ;)

I’ll explain the professor lovely reference in the title later on.

Question: Do you remember the first blog post you ever published?

I do.

It’s scary being a first time blogger isn’t it. Publishing yourself out there into the wordpress unknown. Will anyone read this “junk”? Will anyone take a punt and follow this blog? Will me and my blog make it to successville or end up in the virtual scrapheap of deletion/deactivation city?

Lots of people try blogging and realise it’s not for them. There is no harm in that…trying something and it not feeling quite right is absolutely okay…the main thing is you can give yourself an award for being a tryer…someone who is open minded and bold and bloody interesting.

When I tell people I’m a blogger (people who aren’t bloggers themselves), the main reaction is interest and curiosity…


…as if I’ve just let off a conversational firework that I surreptitiously hid in my handbag for dull small talk moments.

I just say the words “I blog,” and listen out for the internal fizz and sparkle going on in the listener’s mind as they quickly go through a process of figuring things out.

First they’ll be figuring out the likelihood that you’ve ever mentioned them in a blog post without you knowing lol!

It is a decision tree in their minds that looks something like this…

Then the question inevitably comes…what do you blog about?

I then reply to them cheerily that I blog about mental health.


Nerves permeate the atmosphere.

Has the air just got chillier?

How long will they hold their breath for?

FUCK ME THIS GIRL IS ONE HUMAN RISK goes the thought bubble inside their head.

Which prompts a decision tree that looks a little something like this…


Not only a blogger, but a blogger who blogs about their own mental health.

Oh my GOSH.

For most casual acquaintances that is the first they’ve ever heard of me having mental health issues, so they have to swallow their surprise and feign coolness and open mindedness because they are conscious about stigma to the extent they know they shouldn’t have a problem with mental illness but not to the extent where they actually are cool about mental illness. lol.

This is the approximate facial expression you may be faced with….


But I am quite happy to shock and actually find it quite amusing…just like when I bumped into a local in the woods when running the other day, and happened to be making a short vlog clip about my previous suicide attempts when I noticed her sudden arrival.

I saw the funny side of this.

I nearly killed myself. Deal with it.

Soz to be blunt, but my gravatar states I was not meant to be subtle. That is one such example of my bluntness.

So, despite all the perils of people finding out you blog, and not only that, that your blog is ABOUT MENTAL HEALTH….

she faints

I still do it!!!

I love what I do, and I always encourage anyone interested in blogging about mental health to just try blogging about mental health, because it is the best therapy and also is extremely likely to help other people who read your blog content too.

Who knows how much blogging will help you personally, as well as others?

With that in mind I have encouraged/arm locked a friend of mine to try blogging. He goes by the name of Buffy Devane, and you can peep at his link right about HERE

This is his tagline…

Moonlight & Music; Love & Laughter; Anxiety & Depression; Dancing & Champagne

He has decided on 10 experimental blog posts in 10 days. After the 10 days is up he’ll decide whether to stick at it.

My crystal ball suggests he will as he’s ace at writing-really quirky and suave. A bit like James Bond, but more British ;) He is wanting to bring a bit of his mental health into the blog content, but also like me to write creatively and in an uplifting escapist style. Not many blogs about mental health are uplifting let’s be honest….that is the challenge I guess- to write cathartically, but also retaining positivity in the face of the utter crapness of anxiety and depression.

Please have a peep at what he’s written. He is your archetypal English eccentric-bloody clever and a great conversationalist. He also has a heart of gold and is one of my loveliest and kindest friends. He comes highly recommended :)

He calls me ‘professor lovely’ btw, because he reckons I’m cleverer than him, and also a pretty nice human being…I agree on the nice bit, but I reckon he’s actually no less cleverer than me, just usually blotto on champagne which maybe inhibits his brain cells somewhat ;)

Professor lovely says….give Buffy Devane, my new blogger friend a chance…he’s totally FAB. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed :)

Thanks for reading

summerSHINES ©