Posted in Recovery?

Hope is important: an update

I’ve written this post in my head about a million times over the past few months, but every time I sit down to write it I end up writing a different one instead. I’m not sure why – maybe I wanted to be circumspect for a change, or maybe I was worried that in writing the post I’d tempt fate, and jinx things, and somehow mess everything up. As is my way. Except, of course, that isn’t ‘my way’ at all. It’s a ridiculous conflation of past events that have no bearing on the here and now whatsoever.

When you start to remember to leave the past behind the future starts to feel a whole lot brighter……

I’ve been thinking about journeys again, insofar as that life is a only a journey and the only thing that anybody truly hopes for is not to reach the destination until they are very old, and they’ve done all the things, and been all the places, and read all the books, and met all the people they were supposed to.

As for my journey so far? Well, it hasn’t exactly been a happy journey but I’m content with that. Maybe I had to lead myself in and out and back into the wilderness so that I could get to this point – feeling confident that the next time the wilderness starts to beckon my brain is going to have all the ammunition it needs to save me. That’s what a lifetime being mental is all about – finally learning how to save yourself.

You probably think Mr Wise got his name because he’s wise which is only a little bit true because Mr Wise is wise in a very special way. Not many people have the kind of wisdom he does because not many people spend years of their lives battling their demons so that they can learn how to save themselves. As you know, Mr Wise saved me at least three billion squillion times. What I’ve never told you is that every single time he did he told me that one day I would learn how to save myself. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t ready to believe him. But he was right.

Life is going to throw all kinds of stuff at me and my brain, I know that. What I also know is that I’m going to take it on the chin, keep an eye on my priorities and survive it. I’m not going to sweat the small stuff anymore, because I figured out what matters and how to keep it so that it always matters so much more than the small stuff.

I’m not so naive that I think I’ll never have a grey day again, and I’ll tell you what, I truly hope that my AWESOME days aren’t over with just yet. But I’ve found insight and perspective and I don’t plan on letting go. If you’re an ex smoker you might understand because there comes a point in the quitting process when you know in your heart that you’ve done it. I feel a bit like that about jumping off tall things, and hiding in bed for weeks, and starving myself to death, and carving my limbs up just because I can. I’m never going to have to do any of that again.

At this point in my journey I know that I matter just as much as other people. I know that an emotional attachment isn’t a bad thing. I know that taking a risk isn’t the same as being reckless. I know that I’m always going to be a bit vulnerable. I know that I’m always going to be strong. I know that nobody lets you down on purpose. I know that feelings grow but never ought to consume you. I know that I’m the only person who can hold myself together and save me. The last one is a big one because I wasted so much time thinking someone else would come to my rescue instead of getting stuck in and taking care of myself.

I also know something I knew all along, the one thing I never lost sight of, or let go of: Hope Is Important. Hope is what carries your heart when it’s too heavy for you to bear anymore.

I’m going to hold on to hope and that way I’ll always be able to save myself.

Love, WeeGee xoxoxo

Posted in Some thoughts about my journey

Hope is important


I woke up at a funny time this morning – too late to go back to sleep and too early to get up. I decided that if I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to get up I might as well stay in bed and have myself a nice little rest.

Of course, it wasn’t long before my nice little rest turned into a bit of a think. I was thinking about wills: specifically whether I should revisit mine, and whether, if I did, I would be considered to have been of sound mind at the time of writing.

This got me thinking about my granny. She died when I was fifteen leaving behind only a few words dictated to my dad quite literally on her death bed. After her death these few words caused more arguments, and ill feeling and general nastiness than you can ever imagine*. It was my first insight into what a death can bring out in people. It wasn’t pretty.

The thing is, my granny died after a very long illness and for the last few months of her life, her diagnosis was terminal. I’ll never forget the conversation that I had with my dad as he tried to explain that there was nothing more that could be done – it felt like someone had taken my heart in their hands and wrung all the good things out of it.

We knew she was dying and she knew she was dying and it has bothered me for a long time that, under those circumstances, she didn’t have a will. She was an organised careful person and I just couldn’t understand why she hadn’t been organised and careful in that regard.

As I was thinking this morning it occurred to me that perhaps, even in the face of what she was told was certain death, she believed she was going to live. Maybe it was hope, or determination, or the survival instinct that kept her from writing a will. And that notion felt like it meant something to me.

Does that make sense?

I don’t want to be alive, but that really isn’t the same thing as wanting to die** and I often think about the survival instinct. My thinking goes something like this: If I found myself in a lift*** that was plummeting to the ground from twenty stories up, I imagine that for the whole of the descent I’d be thinking that something would happen that would make it okay. I don’t suppose it would occur to me that I was actually going to die until the very moment of impact (at which point it wouldn’t matter, because I’d be dead).  Human beings are going to die, but we also seem to be programmed to believe that we’re not going to die at any given moment. Again, that seems to mean something to me.

Why do I mention any of this? I’m not entirely sure, other than what it seems to say to me is something about hope. Hope is important.

Love from a hopeful WeeGee xx

PS – I read somewhere that if you find yourself in a plummeting lift your best bet is to lie on top of someone larger than yourself. It seems a bit mean, but I do find myself taking note of the physical stature of my companions when I get into lifts. Just in case, you know.



*Shortly before she became ill my granny had remarried, so we ended up with two feuding families. I hated it.

**You will either understand that or you won’t. I can’t put it any better than that

***Or an elevator if you are across the Pond