Grief, ED recovery, Mental Health and all the lovely things that give my Sisyphean rock meaning
Between the mould, the leaks, and feeling like I’m swimming in lava in Minecraft, a random Black Friday coffee machine somehow became the hero of my week. It’s ridiculous, but every Starbucks pod feels like a tiny joy-bringer in a flat that’s currently held together by buckets and hope.
We planned a soft day, but the universe sent us to minor injuries instead. My son’s foot was crunchy (yes, really), and this post captures everything from NHS chaos to waiting room characters, a Crunchie bar craving, and the strange way a detour turned into a whole story.
Good Friday: cluster headache edition. I fought through pain, ED brain, and Supreme Court crap to buy necklaces and dress a bear in protest gear. Was it all good? No. Did I make it fun anyway? Somehow. Biscoff the Bear is now a political figure. I am simply unraveling.
Today was meant to be restful, but my brain woke me up yelling “BOOTS!” like it was a threat. I got my meds, made my bear a bowtie, and ignored all signs of needing to lie down. A cortisol-fuelled quest, featuring pigeons, macramé, and one very overdressed bear.
Took 25,000 IU of vitamin D and my body said “no thanks” by collapsing, rash included. Spent Mother’s Day shrimped on the sofa, ragey and weak. Still ate food. Still cried. Still blogging. Recovery arc: glitchy. Perfectionism can piss off—I’ve got knees that fold and a blog backlog now.
I took the biggest D known to man—25,000 IU of swamp-flavoured regret—and somehow, today felt better. Between the compression leggings, noise-cancelling headphones, and bravery it took to put cheese in beans, I found a moment of calm. Not cured, just coping—with a little penguin, some wax melts, and hope.
I set out expecting stress, but somehow, today turned out… okay. The meds got sorted, the errands got done, and Iceland had the AUDACITY to be pricier than M&S. I came home exhausted, but with a warm flat, a good loaf of bread, and a little relief. Finally.
I set out on a simple mission: prove I exist, collect my birth certificate, go home. Instead, I ended up locked in a full-scale digestive crisis, betrayed by both Apple Maps and soup. My body staged a rebellion mid-journey, forcing me to fight for my life just to complete basic admin.
This week had its struggles, but there were little lights in the dark—small moments that kept me going. I made a macrame bow and bag for St David’s Day, filmed adorable TikToks with my bears, and challenged a cheesy hot cross bun. Oh, and I may have become a feral gherkin goblin.
This week was chaos incarnate. I had MANY meltdowns, became an anti-capitalist hero via a magazine subscription app, my son delivered an epic BBC takedown, and I spent a lot of time hugging Jellycats—when they weren’t in quarantine. But somehow, I’m still here. And honestly? I’ll take that as a win.
Absurd Universe 