Where I'm at: severely lacking in happy.

'Unhappy' is perhaps one of the saddest words in existence. And not simply because it means sad, it actually goes one better (or worse) and means not happy. Like, not at all. It doesn't bullshit about that. There is a distinct lack of happiness in the word. It sounds half-baked, half-arsed and underwhelming. It's a disappointment of a word. It's a shrug accompanied by a 'meh'. But it's also quietly devastating. It creeps up on you, as a word, much like the actual unhappiness. It carries weight but will often disguise itself in gentle apathy. 

Yeah, I've been very unhappy recently. But why?, you may ask. That is what I keep asking myself. Why, why why. Why, though?
Well, I have done some searching within myself – and a lot of crying, like serious crying, like unable to stop my bottom lip wobbling, voice pitching and jaw straining like a major emotional gurn fest or something – and I think I have an idea what it could be.
It's a myriad of things. It's rooted in something deep, right in the basement of my mind to the point where it's mistaken as the normal subconscious, sure, but it's also in a...smattering of little things on the higher levels. It's made up of lots of smaller sadnesses. 

For instance, I am not yet living independently. I am a graduate living back in the family home. This is fine, in fact it's kinda necessary – in both a monetary and medical sense, for me – but it still is a pain. Not because of my excellent family, though. More because I am restless and angry at myself for still being here, when others my age are out on their own, making home. Or travelling here and there and everywhere, doing all of the amazing things...

Also, I am working only 3 days a week. That was my decision, though. I'm not unhappy about that, in fact I'd say this is one of the few things in my life at the moment that I am thankful for – the job, and the hours I have agreed to work. I couldn't be full time, not yet, I am still below par and arguably 'in recovery' for not just the operations I've had in the past 2 years but also the radiotherapy thingy I had done. Nbd. And my workplace is great for understanding these limitations. Working 3 days a week suits me perfectly in terms of writing and side hustling as well – I have the time to see shows and read books and give speeches and have meetings. And as previously mentioned, I am living in the family home so saving money is fairly easy and my everyday expenditures are minimal. 
But still, I do get moments when I think (/cannot get it out of my head) surely as a 23-year-old graduate I should be working the 'proper amount'...

My social situation isn't ideal, either. My friends are scattered around the country – and the world, now. I only have a couple of local friends. I do see how cool that is though, that I can go to London any time (which I do, whenever I can, love me some London) and see/stay with my awesome friends there – and then I can visit friends in their new homes abroad, should I wish to (which I have done and will be doing more in 2017).

I don't like the way I look at present. But that's okay, I'm joining a gym this week (lol I know, cliché af) and sometime in the near future I could be having plastic surgery. Boom. I tell myself that when I look in the mirror as I get dressed, or put my make up on; it's temporary, and also babe, you've looked worse, remember?! 

Yes, I did look worse. I looked the worst I've ever looked when I had that lot of major surgery – twice – and actually my puffy face, black eyes and stapled head were not the worst things to come from that experience. No, what that illness has done is...robbed me. It's taken so many parts of my life away – the majority of my independence, a shit ton of my confidence, a big bulk of my happiness and above all, control. Since my diagnosis in 2014, I have lost control. Little bits I've managed to grab back, like getting jobs I wanted and pushing my writing further and even consciously cutting ties with a couple of bad friends...but it hasn't been quite enough.

Yes, this unhappiness is mostly down to a misbehaving brain. But not just misbehaving in the sense of, y'know, tumour. It's also thanks to the misbehaving in terms of generally poor mental health. And that is down to trauma and stress and bad decisions and more trauma. Oh, it's a right buggery up in there, I tell you. 

So, in this most unhappy post I have listed the main things that are getting me down, but if you'll notice I have tried to attach silver linings wherever possible. I have identified the issues, or at least the ones that are already apparent to me, there may be more I haven't realised yet...but it's a start. That's the first step, identifying. Now I just have to do the tackling.
I have to take control – take it back from my illness. It'll take a long while, and a lot of work, but I'll try. 

My first step? Booking flights to see a wonderful friend in Berlin, all by myself. It'll be my first time flying somewhere completely alone. And it's something I can actually do – I can afford it, I can book the time off work, I know I'll be okay to go. It's something quite small, really, but for me it's huge. And exciting. Also, funnily enough, the day I am going will be the same day as a consult appointment. I'll go straight from the hospital to the airport. Ha, screw you, brain. 

The next steps will be just as bold, but bigger, too. I'll set a date for my next operation, so I can be done waiting around for it, pausing my life again and again. I'll look at my money situation and work out what needs doing and how much needs saving. I'll figure out where I want to be, who I want to be with, and what I want to be doing.
Even just knowing I'm going to make changes is enough for me. It gives me the strength to keep on keeping on, for now.

I know this post has basically been an endless monologue of me listing my problems and then reassuring myself over and over, but I wanted all of you readers and friends to get a better idea of what's happening in my head. It's so important that you know the real me, all the faults and kinks (steady on) and failings and, sometimes, strengths. I worry that you only see the lighter more carefree bits, at times. Which I don't feel is 100% true. So, please bear with in these darker times. And thank you for reading, of course. This blog is my happy place – one of few, these days. And y'all make it that. So yeah, thanks.

Love always, from me and my silly brain. 


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