Good morning! I have lots of good stuff to publish today…and I am actually in a half decent mood, (which considering my recent mental health crisis is pretty epic!)


I did some sharpie doodling this morning whilst chatting on and off to lovely humans (via the online social beauty that is Facebook messenger).

I sent a very important email to a very important mental health charity, telling them I will be doing the very important speech to the very important audience, after all. I REFUSE to let my mental health dictate my life (though I will have a good rest first, between now and then so I’m all recouped and ready to fly).

So where am I at- on day 4 of my attempt to get myself out of my current mental health breakdown?….I am here……(below). I have broken through, wherever it is that people in the midst of mental health crisis break through to, to mark that the worst bit is over and the better bits are to come……


To say I’m ‘relieved’ doesn’t do it justice….but hopefully this doodle does it justice….


There are lots of positive things to be positive about today…so I decided to make a list….


Another FAB thing I am realising, is that I’m doing OK without my old friends, the team of NHS crisis, and the community based MH team (CMHT)…also without the therapist. I need to stand on my own feet for a bit and feel pride that I can regain my footing after some mental health slippery-ness. I’m proud of me for managing to do this….maybe sarpies, artsy paper and determination was all I needed….and maybe (for not at least) this is a sufficient substitute for NHS talking therapy and telephone-based support from people I’ve never met.


I am dead excited about the charity speech, and dead excited about my BOOT THE BLUES hike.




IF YOU DONATE, I WILL OFFICIALLY LOVE YOU :) xxx (but, on reflection, maybe not quite as much as my husband and children) :D

I nearly backed out, as last week doing this hike seemed impossible, but my spirits are soaring and my strength is returning. And I will SMASH THE SHIT OUT OF THIS HIKE and be so proud when it all comes together and all the money is totted up, and I will feel totes proud for my AMAZING :P organisational and volunteering skills!



On day 4-it’s all GOOD. :)

See you tomorrow for more sharpie mental health crisis recovery shenanigans blows kiss






Has anyone seen real life? I think I must have mislaid it down the back of the sofa or something, because I can’t for the life of me locate real life. Real life has become unreal chaos.


I am busy.

Not at all centred.

Floaty. Overwhelmed. Confused.

I haven’t been normal since Wednesday, or maybe, if I’m accurate, I’ve never been normal since 1981 [when I was born], but I have felt especially abnormal since Wednesday.

I haven’t yet regained a sense of who I am since Wednesday-wait, what? Surely I should know who I am. I’m summerSHINES, yeah? the blogger person? the mum person? the wife person? the volunteer person? Yeah I suppose I am those things, but I don’t feel like me.

I have BPD. BPD me has something called ‘identity diffusion’. It’s a symptom of trauma-shit that happened long ago when my personality was (literally) in it’s infancy and still forming. My personality developed weirdly, in that I don’t have a consistent core sense of self. Who I think I am is fluid and mercurial and changeable. I can’t be quantified or measured, and good luck tracking my moods and behaviours on an ongoing basis. They are not constant. Your measuring stick needs to be very long and very flexible….basically very much not like a stick, because a one size measures all stick is just not sufficient.

A lot of my summer starts to shine writing is about my personality and learning to cope with my trauma history. But I hope those repetitive themes don’t make for repetitive writing. My writing is as unpredictable as my feelings. Sometimes I write and write. Other times I can’t write one meaningful sentence. Sometimes life is all great. Sometimes life is all wrong.

I wrote a crisis post a couple of days ago, because a mini-ish crisis was escalating. At that point I didn’t know whether the crisis would stay mini-ish, or if it’d get big and dangerous-ish…..It stayed mini-ish I’m relieved to say, because I took action to reduce my level of threat. My crisis was building due to a very clear trigger, so I removed the trigger, and now my mini-ish crisis is fading to me being ok again (though I haven’t arrived at ‘Destination OK’ just yet).

The trigger was being asked to say a few words about trauma and my experiences at a charity launch. I said yes immediately because I was flattered to be asked. I have literally thought of very little else though since I agreed to doing this and my anxiety levels went suddenly skyward on Sunday.

Cue panic attack and afternoon/evening of uncontrollable crying.

This on the surface ‘over-reaction’, (though not really an over-reaction when you see it in context), was at the prospect of speaking in front of a crowd. I fully intended to keep the talk as un-emotive as possible so I could get through it without crying on the night, but even that precaution wasn’t enough to remove the emotional sting out of the perceived difficulty of me doing the said speech.

I did something hard. I alerted the lady that I didn’t feel I was up to delivering the talk.

I cannot tell you how bad that made me feel. How much I felt guilt and a sense of failure and disappointment. How embarrassed I felt at feeling I was letting the charity down. crumpled face

BUT, I know I have made the right decision for myself as a survivor.

I KNOW me doing that speech is too much for me, at this stage in my recovery (which is not especially “recovered”).

I KNOW the chances of having some kind of panic attack or public emotional episode are far too high for comfort.

I KNOW it would have taken a huge amount from me emotionally.

I KNOW I did the right thing.

I also know though that doing the right thing can feel immensely difficult, but that doesn’t mean that doing the right thing shouldn’t be done, just because it’s hard.

I had to swallow my pride, face letting the charity down, and face that they may feel disappointed with me.

I have had to come to terms with the fact that although I am extremely confident in sharing about my trauma history when sat behind a keyboard, that making eye contact with a room full of professionals and saying it out loud to a sea of faces is very different and just not realistic for me right now at this point in my recovery journey.

It has made me realise that many of my prior goals (that involved speaking to a crowd) are just unrealistic. It is a personal psychological cost that is too much to expend. The future is unknown, but for now, it was just too much.

I used to fancy myself as one day doing a TED talk, speaking to groups of school kids about mental health and grooming and abuse, running training courses for large groups of professionals.  Now I have looked down the barrel of a gun and actually imagined the white knuckle nerves of steel emotionally draining REALITY of doing this, I realise the epic fear involved. I realise how nerve wracking that’d be. I realise how triggering it is. I realise it is something that right now is beyond me, so I will quit pressuring myself to achieve over-ambitious goals such as this.

I will stick to what I am good at. I will write. I will attend meetings. I will network. I will speak to only small groups (less than 10). Anymore exposure than that is bad for my PTSD, and anything that causes my PTSD symptoms to flare up is just NOT worth doing, however much I am attracted to the abstract idea of doing it.

I have learned valuable lessons from this. I know my limitations. I also know that I should not be in so much of a hurry to say yes immediately to daunting offers which I know will challenge me.

Saying yes to something, then backing out, is far worse than not saying yes to begin with and expressing any uncertainty that might be there. “Take a step back summerSHINES, and have a fucking word with yourself” (is my blunt advice to myself).

I am off for a meeting with the charity in a little while to discuss this face-to-face. They are a victim charity. They have been understanding. PHEW. I have sent my speech and someone will read it out for me. I will still be contributing, but on my own terms.

Survivors like mehave to learn it is OK to say no to things and not feel shame attached to that. This is something I need to work on.

Hopefully now I’ve made this decision and suggested I meet with the charity to chat it over, no great harm will be done, and I can still assist them, just in a way that is psychologically safe for me as a survivor.

I hope my sense of unreality will not persist. I hope for the chaos to die down and the calm to remerge slowly but surely.

I hope that I will find a sense of myself again. I hope my feet will soon touch the ground. I hope I will have the mental capacity freed up now for me to work on my other volunteering projects which need my urgent attention.

I need to write my piece about westminster for the NHS mental health trust bulletin. I need to write my piece about another UK charity I was networking with at Westminster “Young Minds”. I need to apply for a Time to Change training day. I need to plan for my NHS meeting on Friday. I need to spend some time on my fundraising event planning. And I need to go to the launch, sans public speaking, and network my shiny arse off. That all takes energy.

I think I need a sandwich……or cake.


summerSHINES ©




Post-Traumatic SPARKLE

Everyone has heard of PTSD. But not everyone had heard of PTSS (most probably because I literally just made it up!).

On my email signature I describe myself as a ‘mental health blogger of post-traumatic sparkle’ @summerstartstoshine etc, and ”PTSS’ is the new phenomenon that I totally just made up, which is essentially a fancier and sparklier way of describing post-traumatic growth.

PTSS is post-traumatic-sparkle syndrome :)

I think I have this. I invented it 😉

I’m a person who believes in post-traumatic GROWTH, as well as post-traumatic stress.

Since the box of horrors opened in my subconscious mind, making my traumatic memories conscious and very much out there, I have suffered one hell of a lot of post-traumatic STRESS. I have experienced many other mental health-ish things beginning with the letter ‘S’ besides stress.

Suicide (ideation, preoccupation, attempts.)

Self-harm (to relieve tension enough to deal with the above.)

Silence and shunning (when I accused my perpetrators of their crimes and they responded with rejection.)

All of those things are awful things for anyone to deal with and cope with, but a relatively new thing to come out of my trauma is something which is really quite fabulous is……S.P.A.R.K.L.E.

People who are early on in their post-traumatic healing will most probably get annoyed at me for saying there is anything at all sparkly or growth oriented about living with the psychological and physical effects of a traumatic history, but please reserve judgement till you’ve the post.

I hear you. I know what trauma does to you. I know all of the awfulness of it first hand. I am not a trauma victim who hasn’t suffered, believe me. I would NEVER minimise trauma. And a couple of years ago I would have scoffed at the concept of post-traumatic sparkling, because I was so poorly back then, literally fighting for my life.

I nearly died and that wasn’t at all sparkly.

I have HATED my trauma history and everything about it almost as much as I hate the abhorrent people who did this to me.

I have lived trauma. I am shaped by it. I have hated and despised my past and have wanted to die because of it. In truth, some days, I still wish I could.

Wishing I could die is my NORMAL. But I made my no suicide attempt pact with my hubby, and I promise to stick to that always.

So my basic choice is, what the hell do I do with a life where I don’t really want to be here at all; chronically, strongly, and all the time? How do I tolerate living with a near constant death wish?

Well…..my answer is, I create meaning from it and purpose. I make lemonade from these sour face-pulling life lemons. I taste the lemon, but instead of spitting it out, I think these are the most perfectly awesomely designed ingredients to make the most zingiest most refreshing and most delicately and beautifully tasting lemonade EVER.

I want to create something GREAT out of something miserable.

I want to turn the evilest black to the purest and most innocent white.

In order for me to do that, I am having to learn to sparkle in whatever way I can. I am having to create something, when once there was nothing. There is no handbook for this. I’m carving out my own niche.

I have learned it is OK to shine, and the only people who have a vested interest in preventing me doing that are those who perpetrated those dreadful acts in the first place.

Another thing I’ve noticed is how survivors (including myself) often look towards others for permission to shine, because we are so used to having our inner light dimmed by very unshiny people. But the people who try and do that are, I believe, only doing it because they are stuck in their own darkness, so the only way they can feel any better about that is by dragging everyone else down to the murky depths with them.

Why do we need to be granted permission from others to shine? We are adults and can make our own decisions, right?

I’m having to make some important decisions myself lately about my future and how I choose to move forward. At every decision point I will aim to choose the sparkly way-(the PTSS way).

It really matters to me that I use my trauma and I own it.

I have assimilated trauma into my identity, but not in a victim way. I prefer to try and focus my attention on the positive aspects of my trauma history (on my better days when that is possible.)  I prefer to marvel at my own strength, rather than dwell on the extent I’m broken. I aim to live with a strong sense of survivor pride instilled into my character. I tell my story, because I am proud at what I was able to survive, and because I believe everyone should find their voice, if they want to find it and know it is there.

My intention is not to tell people my story so they say POOR YOU. I want them instead to say BRAVE YOU! I want people to know just how much a human is capable of tolerating without breaking. I want people to not take for granted the gift of safety. I want parents to know how precious their children are and what a privilege it is to care for and raise a child. I want people who are survivors to not feel limited by their history. I want it to be OK to share your truth without fear that people will back off if they know what happened and what exactly you endured.

I am gutted I was a victim, but I am proud of how much of a resilient survivor I am. I am proud of all of you too!

Please believe me when I say it IS possible to sparkle after trauma. It IS possible to use your pain and transform it into personal contributions you can make that benefit both individuals and wider society.

My trauma is what made me. Like hell am I gonna let it break me.

Without my traumatic history and motivation to help other survivors I wouldn’t be making the contributions to benefit others that I’m making now. Without my trauma I wouldn’t have the same drive and persistence and inner motivation. Without my own trauma experience, I wouldn’t know how on earth to support others going through similar difficulties. I’d have no mission- no purpose that means quite as much as this does.

Of course I wish what happened hadn’t happened. Of course! But it has happened. And I will make good from it.

I suggest to all survivors that we try and retain hope and faith that we can come back from what happened to us, stronger and fighting. If not now, eventually.

I give that message to myself too, hoping I remember this on my low days when everything gets on top of me and I find it almost impossible to believe the words I’m typing now.

I’m healing, but I’m not healed yet.

I’m broken, but my repair WILL happen.

I’m ok today. Tomorrow is a mystery. My personal hell is behind me.

I’ll be alright. That stuff is over now.

It is time for summer to shine.

Here are some happy summery images I found on tumblr… 😊

SummerSHINES ©





Apprehension is something we all feel from time to time and is completely natural and human. Usually though we are only apprehensive about stuff that really matters to us. Things that we’re not bothered about we don’t tend to feel apprehension about. Instead we feel the murkiness and greyness of nothing; indifference basically.

Nothing that is happening in my life as it’s unfolding am I indifferent about or uninterested in. I have purposefully and consciously attracted things into my life and people and situations that matter.

What else is the point of life and living? If we are not drawing in what matters in our heart and soul. We are just existing then, and not living.

Living is very different to existing. Existing (not living), isn’t far off dying in my book. It is breathing and eating and drinking and going about our business without caring about anything or anyone.

I care LOTS about lots of things.

I care that my goals are showing promising signs of being fulfilled (many of them anyway). I am more than chuffed with all the progress I’ve made so far this year :) I’ve got over my mental health blip and now I can move forward without that excess life baggage dragging me down. It feels great to be where I am now-but I am apprehensive, because I don’t like to imagine losing what I’m working hard for.

There is no reason why I should lose any of my gains. No objective reason at all. My apprehension about losing it and foregoing my progress only reflects my humanness and natural frailty as a sensitive soul who battles with her mental health daily.

Lately life has felt too good to be true, but that isn’t objectively because it is too good to be true. In reality, my life just isn’t as relentlessly difficult and bad anymore as it was, and the strangeness of that lack of struggle is as unnerving as it is nice.

I’m apprehensive about the blog going out on Tuesday. This is the third ‘Mind’ mental health blog that I’ve written now for the national charity. The first time I buzzed for a week! It was a happy inspiring positive blog that attracted lovely supportive comments. The second one was more controversial in content so attracted tons of empathic support, as well as a few feathers getting ruffled. It was therefore a bit less enjoyable to put out there and a tad more threatening.

This third post I’ve written is challenging in a different way. It isn’t inspiring like the first. It isn’t controversial like the second. It is instead a painfully sad one that I believe a lot of people will relate to. I anticipate that it will touch nerves and prompt a bit of an outpouring of pain in the comments section. I wanted this piece to hurt when you read it, and I think it does do just that. It hurts me when I read it back afterwards anyway. I wanted to explain how I feel, and also do justice to how I believe many of us who live with mental health conditions feel a lot of the time.

As a writer, when you put your words out there for public dissection to larger audiences it genuinely does physically hurt sometimes! My heart aches. My muscles feel tense. My face grimaces and crumples up. I hide my flushed face with my hands and screw up my eyes to keep myself safe and protected and in the dark. It is ridiculous to imagine me doing that (as a mental picture in your head) but it really does happen when a post on mine goes out on Mind’s social media channels! I don’t know what the readership is or how many people follow the UK charity on Twitter or Facebook. But I know it is tons more reading than Summer Starts to Shine gets, and that feels both exciting and brilliant and also exposing and nerve wracking. This is because I know what people on Facebook are like…..they can be very opinionated and sometimes even vicious, not understanding how they might be hurting the writer. If people are mean to me online it’s hard to stomach. Most people are not mean though, and most people take the view that if they don’t have anything nice to say then they won’t say anything at all (which, believe me, I appreciate).

Lots of people on social media attack writers. I have even privately thought bad things about other writers myself, but the difference is, I won’t say to that person “I think your blog/article is a load of shit” because that just isn’t me. I’m usually honest, but I don’t believe in being nasty under the guise of ‘honesty’, and think that makes your nastiness socially acceptable. It isn’t ok to be nasty, but still people are.

If only writers could be assured that people would like what they publish, there would be lots more writers publishing their work! With mental health bloggers specifically, it is a whole different level of exposure and potential pain that you are opening up by sharing in an intimate way how your feel in all the underneath layers of you. Usually people don’t see what’s emotionally underneath. They judge us based on what we present to them on the surface layers. But if you share on a national platform for a major charity about your mental health, that is one of the most personal things you could probably do.

I am going to be letting everyone see what’s underneath on Tuesday. I am scared! It is a vulnerable post. Shall I start hiding already?!! I feel like hiding.

But for all my fears about it and vulnerability and insecurity, I will not be emailing the media team saying hold fire, don’t publish. I LOVE to do this kind of stuff, despite the fear. I feel the fear and I do it anyway :) And I will keep putting my writing out there even if I have to hide behind cushions for 48 hours or so afterwards :P It’s more than worth it, and writing is worth it, and complimentary comments you get make writing LUSH. This is why….(profound bit coming up).

I’m so glad that I can write. I’m glad I have this skill. I can touch people without ever meeting them. I can connect with their heart and spark up conversations with their souls. I can encourage people to reflect and to learn and to process and to grow. I can change the slants on how people think. I can open the windows in people’s minds which means their skin is met with the incoming breeze of clarity. I can clean up what was once messy. I can make someone exhale a breath in satisfaction because they’ve just gained an insight that they would only have obtained by reading ‘that’ sentence that I just wrote there. I can divert someone away from their own head for a minute or two and invite you be a visitor to mine. I will willingly share my mind and my heart and my soul, pouring it out onto the blank canvas, and I say to you ‘for the few minutes it takes to read these words, you can have me. I am yours, and if you like what you read you can have me for keeps. Every time you want to feel understood, cared for, or reminded of something important, you can re-read that paragraph and you can feel what you felt just now, again and again; the message crystallising and sinking in more and more with every read.’

That is what I can give you by writing, and what so many writers give to their readers day in day out.

Am extrovert is good for a party. An introverted writer is FOR LIFE.

Some passages I have read have stayed with me for years and years, and even helped keep me alive in some cases.

I hope that one day I write something that is that special. I may not ever know what effect I’ve had on you, but I hope that one day my writing does that. I hope that you’re out there and I hope you appreciate what I’m doing in sharing myself with you, via my words.

I am scared, but I’ll be OK. Even if some people leave nasty comments I will turn my mind instead to those people who I hope will be silently helped by my intimate emotional sharing of myself.

It’ll take more than a bit of apprehension for me to stop writing.

But I do get through many cushions :P




I have put off writing this blog post. It isn’t really like me to procrastinate over anything actually so it is always strange when this type of situation arises.

If I avoid writing about something it can be for a variety of reasons….sometimes it’s because the topic is plain painful, sometimes it’s that I’m too ashamed or embarrassed, and sometimes it’s just that I want to keep something private because it matters so damn much to me, and I want to keep it close to my heart for a little while before I put it out there for people to pick at; like the crumbs thrown to the pigeons on Trafalgar square.

A blogger gains a lot from blogging and it is an immensely rewarding activity, which is why so many do it, but there is a loss, and that loss is privacy.

Exposure is……..exposing.

Your thoughts, feelings, memories and private perceptions become public fodder to be chewed over, reflected on, dissected and sometimes (if you’re fortunate) LOVED by those who read our words.

Bloggers share ourselves bravely with humanity.

Absolutely ANYONE can read my blog.

Anyone can like it, not like it, warm to it, or cool off from it, and I have absolutely no influence over that.

I also don’t know who actually reads it, despite the stats telling me number of mouse clicks on each page and post. The only people I know who read summer starts to shine are those that leave blog comments. Even those that click ‘like’, haven’t necessarily read a post. Maybe they are just being cyber friendly, or playing the tactical game of I’ll like your post if you like mine.

I don’t do “like trading”. Call me old fashioned honest, but I don’t click ‘like’ on any post of another blogger that I don’t really like. It’s prehistoric. I know ;) Shoot me.

I don’t have time for games these days. I’m an adult and badass.

Anyway, back to the point…..the reason for my ’embarrassment’ post yesterday is I am thinking a bit about this blog, and how it fits in with me increasingly taking an active role in media and fundraising volunteering for mental health charities, as well as me building up relationships and networking with various charitable organisations on a more professional footing.

Can you be both professional and bonkers?

I bloody hope so, as that’s my ultimate aim!

I want to integrate my bonkers into a package of utter professionalism and competence. I want to use my bonkers to support survivors of similar traumas to myself. I want to exploit my bonkersness and mine it so I have maximum empathy for those I want to help via my work (voluntary or paid). BUT if I want to be seen as professional, should I even be using the word “BONKERS” in my mental health blog?!

Is me labelling my issues as “bonkersness” wrong? Is ‘bonkers’ a unduly pejorative term, or a unduly stigmatising label to apply to myself? Does writing about my mental health conditions so openly, not under a pseudonym, sometime sharing blog photos, mean I’ll never find employment?…..ever? Will my open blogging about life with mental health shoot me in the foot and drag me down so that people perceive me as ‘less than’ the non-sharers? Will people judge? Will people turn off me in huge waves? Exactly how honest should I be, on my blog and beyond? Is my personality package of honesty and candid sharing as summerSHINES bad for my professional career prospects? If I continue to blog as I do, will I ever get a serious job that is commensurate with my educational background and skill-base? Will blogging mean no one ever pays proper attention to me? Will future employers read my blog and be shocked or put off? Will they wonder how I can appear so ‘normal’, yet write about my abnormality in such matter-of-fact, black-or-white, clear-as-crystal way?

Is my blog really the best introduction to me?!

Most people are judged based on how they appear when they are with you. So what about mental health bloggers who share how they feel when they are NOT with you? What about mental health bloggers who write about thorny topics such as their own suicidality? self-harm? the agony of depression? the out-of-control panic of anxiety attacks and traumatic flashbacks?

What about mental health bloggers who are quite kooky and have quite unusual senses of humour? [TOTES JUST ASKING ON BEHALF OF A FRIEND] ;P

OMG, do I really want to be read up on by important people who can make decisions about whether to work with me?

Well, I suppose the answer is, yeah, I just have to take that risk.

I LOVE blogging, so I can’t stop, no matter who reads it and how potentially important their judgement of me is (career wise).

I don’t want to make my blog private, as I like meeting new people via this blog.

So I suppose I just have to hold my breath, shut my eyes and keep on keeping on :)

I WILL keep sharing honestly, even if it makes me look crap.

My passionate drive is to reduce stigma for mental health patients and survivors of trauma. I would be an absolute hypocrite if I decided not to blog, just to prevent the risk of people judging my honesty in critical ways that turned them off me and harmed my career prospects.

If my career prospects are limited by blogging, I guess I will have to stomach it and continue with my efforts to change society.

As Marilyn Monroe said,

If you can’t take me at my worst you don’t deserve me at my best.

So, on with my volunteering news, (the stuff I’ve avoided writing about for reason three, that it is special and I wanted to enjoy it privately for a bit first).

Apart from the parliamentary reception visit which is planned for next week, I am in talks with my local NHS mental health trust about joining the board as a service user and have some new contacts there. I am having a blog shared by the digital team at national Mind on Tuesday AND I have been invited to apply to become a trustee of a north-east victim charity, joining the board of totes important and intelligent people who steer the charity and make important decisions about how it is run, both now and in the future.

This is all FAB stuff :) I’m absolutely made up to be making some good progress, and really excited and enthused about these opportunities which are naturally opening up and unfolding in really lush directions!

This year I have worked really hard behind the scenes on my voluntary work, and believe me it is HARD work that has eaten up countless hours every day and week. I have not been receiving any payment in the bank for it, but I have approached it all conscientiously as though they are real jobs, because I want to do everything I attempt to the best of my ability. Finally that hard graft is paying off.

I am gaining amazing experience, am meeting some amazing people, and now I am finally getting somewhere.

Being asked to apply to be a victim charity trustee is a massively proud experience for me. I’ve felt totes emosh since I was asked as I appreciate the potential opportunity and what it involves SO MUCH.

This is exactly what I want to do, and I couldn’t be happier that the signs of promise are glinting in my ‘feeling-much-happier-than-I-was-a-month-ago’ eyes.


I think this week I have taken big strides forward, and to me it marks the final end of the depressive spell I’ve been in for some time. I am not depressed anymore. That episode has thankfully passed, and I’m becoming buoyant and enthused and inspired again.

I’m finding my inner sparkle and I won’t let anyone whatsoever dim my shine.

To everyone who has upset me lately, I forgive you, and I want you to know I’ve forgotten too. No hard feelings or grudges held on this side. It’s been a really tough period, but it is over now, and I’m on the up, travelling along my recovery path in a balanced way. No dizzying highs. No cavernous slumps or lows.

I’m settled, I’m strong, I’m confident I know where I’m headed, and I’m OK :)

I am now excited about the future again and that means a lot to me. I don’t always feel that positive. I have been chronically disillusioned and frustrated lately, but I’m returning to my former non-depressed self again, and it feels absolutely fucking FAB-U-LOUS!


with love from a very happy & shiny summerSHINES blogger who will continue to share my bonkers with the (virtual) world  X

Here are some moodles to finish off this post (doodles to match my mood).

Today, I am happy :)