I do like the beach, but I do not like sand.

Writing has always been my way of expressing things that daren’t pass my lips but as my blog stats grow and grow I feel like blogging and emailing have also morphed into another way of talking. This tricksy world has forced me into communicating my feelings instead of keeping them bottled up. How dare it!? I am very fortunate to have a network of loving people around me who really really love me and want the best for me. As I’m rather awkward at verbalising how much I appreciate all this fussing I want to take a moment right now to write about how I’ve been so moved by everyone’s support in the last few weeks.

When I was in hospital I was overwhelmed with lovely messages across all the various forms of internets I use. My parents came to visit me twice over that weekend, while Nick came to see me every day. I would see other patients who’d been in for months look at me with all my abundance of support with sadness, and I wished I could share around the visits with them too. I did the next best thing by sharing all the food Mum snuck in for me! My Auntie and Nana sent me care packs when I got out and my mother-in-law insisted I come down to stay with her for a few weeks.

It’s a testament to how powerfully isolating depression and anxiety can be when you are still struck with horrifying dark thoughts even when love is demonstrated to you on a regular basis. When you stumble into patches of lightness and love, like a clearing in a rainforest, and see all the people in your life who are watching out for you it can be embarrassing too. Sometimes I’ve edged back into the darkness under the canopy because I am so ashamed that I can’t be healed by all these wonderful people’s care, and I am mortified that they may see these relapses as rejection or poor manners. Oh but it is a lot more complicated than that, I’m aware!

So thank you everyone. Thank you so much for having a care in your heart.

This week I was invited to stay with my Mum and sister at a holiday house up the coast. It was terribly relaxing. I took some crocheting and work up with me, but found myself helping my sister sew a skirt and reading Russell Brand’s autobiography. I did some work, promise! I’m making up the fat necklaces over this long weekend to send out next week. Mum and Michelle couldn’t resist trying the gold mirror necklaces on!

Even though the beach was a stroll away we only went once and that turned out to be pretty lucky considering my lack of balance and coordination at the moment, which led me to falling over THREE whole times in the space of 20 minutes. This is a very ominous stat and I shall be keeping my sand trekking to an absolute minimum until I get better! I blame the last fall on my sister, who spun around quickly as we walked along the shore at twilight and screamed something about a shark. Mum and I immediately bolted, but I didn’t get far before realising I was going down. As I surrendered myself to any available sharks in my proximity Michelle burst into hysterical laughter, telling us she’d seen land on the horizon. Not sharks. Thanks land, for infiltrating my camera lens and my clothes. I hate sand more than ever. It is a gritty menace that tricks me and swallows my feet.

Do you want to see photos? Go on, everyone loves photos. (Unfortunately none were taken of my falls because I didn’t think to flip the camera on and document the beach coming up to hit me in the face.)