I am not sure as yet if this will turn out to become one blog or two; so much exciting stuff has happened in the last month. Am just aware I don’t want to bore anybody senseless with an excessively long rambling post, no matter how exciting my small steps of progress seem to me!

I was about to go on holiday when I last wrote. That was a wonderful experience, having my son join us for the last three nights. It is our longest contact so far and the first time I have been allowed to take him away since he went into foster care. We had such fun together. It was the first time he had been old enough to join me in the spa, so we had a leisurely morning enjoying the hot tub, spa pool, sauna, ice cave etc. We also had a go at an archery lesson, which was fairly hilarious, although neither of us were too bad, and despite approaching archery for the first time in my mid forties was way beyond my comfort zone, I really enjoyed it. Not the easiest of sports to negotiate with ridiculously large breasts, but hey, neither was it impossible and it’s one more thing I can say I’ve had a try at.

I have been thinking a lot about my Bucket List recently. Not that I actually have a physical list, and few fixed ideas either of what I wish to achieve before I kick it, so to speak, but amongst other things, I had expressed an urge to have a night out and do shots. As I’m someone who rarely drinks alcohol when out, my friend found this rather amusing, and decreed for her birthday a few of us must go out and introduce Angel to the world of doing shots! Well three Raspberry Roxannes, two Jaeger Bombs and a Bakewell Bomb later (not to mention the quantity of lager, cider, rose wine and Malibu I consumed) I think I can safely cross that off! It was also during that evening that the Bucket List became affectionately known as the Fuck-it List, the reason being; most of the things I would like to achieve in the future, my controlling late-husband wouldn’t have wanted me to do. Now, finally finding the confidence to make my own decisions without his voice in my head constantly holding me back, I can say ‘Fuck it!’ to always having to do what I was told was acceptable.

Which brings me nicely onto tattoos! My husband hated them, even more so on women than men. I have to say, I like to see well done tats, especially on attractive gentlemen, but I have equally seen some beautiful tattoos on girls. It was just something I had never considered having done myself, until I read about people getting a semi-colon tattoo representing (in short) recovery from, or living with depression, suicidal thoughts or other mental health difficulties. I knew immediately I wanted a semi-colon on my right wrist. So yesterday I had it done. Almost as much to my own surprise as anyone else’s! Another tick off the invisible list. And interestingly, in conversation with the tattoo artist I found myself saying, “I used to self harm”. I didn’t realise until much later in the day how significant a mind shift this is for me. It is seven months now since I self injured and I feel like it is a closed chapter in my life, albeit for the meantime. Huge progress in my journey to recovery. 

I think I am going to leave this episode here. Whilst these pursuits have been generally trivial, the other pioneering steps I have been taking recently are of a more serious ‘recovery focused’ nature, and I believe warrant their own blog, so critical are they to my wellbeing.

In ten days time I am off for another short break by myself. I am discovering increasingly the benefits of self care and undertaking enjoyable activity. It may be a tiny step in the direction of a more stable future, but anything that helps me become a happier, more relaxed and stronger person has to be positive.

Thanks for reading and watch this space for Part 2 (The Serious Edition) in due course.

Angel 👼🏼