It’s been over a year since I last wrote anything here. And it’s been quite the year.

This is how I ended my last blog post, written in September 2022. Little did I know I’d be reading it just over a year later and those words would speak right to me.

You feel you’re ridiculously alone and alienated due to differences out of your control… I see you. I was you. I am you. And I can promise: this too shall pass. It won’t always be this way. And whilst I cannot guarantee a silver bullet that will magically make everything peachy and perfect, I can hand on heart say that life will get easier. For you all. Even though it may not feel like it right now.

This Too Shall Pass

Doesn’t that sound so confident?! Doesn’t that sound like all our problems were water under the bridge. That this journey was going to be linear and we’d already faced our toughest days.

I had no idea.

Today feels worse because of that na├»ve optimism. And the outlook is bleaker than ever. And I carry this awful weight of guilt and responsibility in an even heavier way than before. A more tangible way. Now it feels directly like it’s my fault.

I’ve been thinking a lot about stories lately. In books. On TV. Movies. All of these stories and narratives that are finalised within a couple of hours. And yes, the protagonists face difficulties and challenges but you know, there’s ultimately a conclusion. And most of the time, that’s a positive one although not always. Characters grow and develop and become stronger for the experiences they’ve gone through… But there is always an end. Everything comes together and all the loose threads get tied together neatly.

I’m desperate to know the conclusion to my story. I’m desperate to know when it will come to an end. Because at the moment, the longevity of it is exhausting. And I’m not sure how much energy I have left. In fact I know: I don’t have any. I’m tired. Physically tired. Emotionally tired. There really isn’t much left.

But still, more and more is required of me. More patience. More meetings. More paperwork. More phone calls. More stress. More worry. More complications. More and more to juggle every day. So I dig deep. And then I dig deeper. And now I find myself in a hole so far down that getting out feels impossible.

And that’s where you find me. Right now. At the bottom of a very dark, cold and lonely hole.

God. I can’t publish this. It’s too hard. It’s too raw. It’s too brutal.

This too shall pass, she said. I really fucking hope so.