Grief, ED recovery, Mental Health and all the lovely things that give my Sisyphean rock meaning
I forgot to be anxious about my medication. No calendar-counting. No tablet-recounting. No catastrophic spirals. I simply… forgot. And when I realised I’d forgotten, I immediately became anxious about forgetting to be anxious. Which is how I discovered, standing in a Boots queue, that my medication increase might actually be working.
I climb the mountain. I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere. Then an unforeseen bear appears, mauls me, and eats the very symbol of my progress. It looks like I never climbed at all. There’s no parka to prove it. Only I know I was there.
Today marks six years since my best friend WeeGee died. It’s the first year I’ve lived this anniversary without running away from it. So my son and I went out to do all the things she loved - coffee, candles, little gifts - carrying her with me in every small joy.
Being sedated has made mindfulness accidentally achievable. My brain is finally quiet enough to exist without spiralling. It won’t last, and I know that, but for now I’m living inside the stillness — decorating my base, rescuing teddy bears, and letting slowness be enough.
In psychiatric waiting rooms, time doesn’t move forward; it pools. Medication becomes another chair, another number called eventually. You wait inside your body while side effects pass like weather. The work is not fixing anything, only staying warm, fed, and alive until the fog lifts. Surviving and creating meaning while you wait.
Christmas felt like survival mode. I kept moving, eating what functioned, resting when I could. The Long Dark made sense when nothing else did: stay fed, stay hydrated, don’t bleed out, wait. Somehow I survived the cougar, the days, the quiet apocalypse, and kept going, even when hope flickered briefly.
I look well. I even look strong. But what’s visible isn’t the whole story. Recovery doesn’t move in straight lines, and strength doesn’t guarantee capacity. Some battles leave no marks at all. Sometimes staying upright is the work, and sometimes that means being still to gather strength.
A day in Cardiff for appointments, coffee, and small joys - Lego dragons, plushies, and people-watching - followed by the quieter truth that comes after. A reminder that good days are real, home matters, and sometimes the recovery lasts longer than the outing itself.
I’m done shrinking myself for people who never actually saw me. This is the story of why I left the wrong room, reclaimed my voice, and renamed my blog. Goodbye Seren Bear. Hello Absurd Universe—where I write with my whole self, rock visible, no more sanding down the truth.
Meaning once came easily to me - through motherhood, physics, rain, creativity. When I lost it after losing WeeGee and my son growing up, everything felt empty. This is my attempt to trace that disappearance, the monotony that followed, and the brief, rain soaked moment meaning returned when my son’s glasses broke.
Absurd Universe 