A recovering bloggist

So, what you do in blogland, is you make a blog, and then you admire it for a while, and then you forget you had it, and a year later refind it.

I finished management, and then I got a certificate. Well, a letter saying, you have a certificate, and then when I get the real one, the nice shiny well done one, then I will parade it on my walls. I am a big believer in being given bits of paper to verify achievements.

So, in the last year, I could have had on my walls the following;

1. A Well Done, you survived being homeless certificate.

(Ok, the family I lived with moved, I was recommended to declare myself homeless. I did. In the kind of centre that has very thick plastic between the staff and the client. Then I was shunted into a high rise flat. The kind of high rise that gives you high anxiety, and shifty neighbours. Finally, I was decanted into a disgusting flat, so damaged by the previous smoker, it had third degree filth burns. I mean, we are talking SO BAD you wonder if you have fallen into a horror movie of your own life BAD.
Anyone else with ME will tell you, this is diametrically opposite to being a healthy recovery accommodation recommendation. You want to test this theory out - ok, well fill the flat with cleaning products, and new paint, and new carpet. If you are allergic to all of these items, you will be wincing by now. Man alive, what an impressive relapse that induced).

2. A Well Done, that was an Impressive Relapse certificate.

3. Followed by, a Well Done, you bought a flat and did not stay in the Pet's Wee flat certificate.

4. Certificates would be allocated to all who kept me sane, during that time, to some very special people. I lived in 5 different places (is this a cure for ME? No, I can reassure the tempted - it so is not).

5. A Well Done, you somehow got back to work certificate.

6. A Well Done, you got Divorced certificate. You get two certificates then, especially if I could find where I've put it. Not many people put this as an achievement, and avoid the, do you think I could slap this into my CV route? So, in a counter culture move, I might just put it up on the wall, and look blank when anyone asks about it. In the university of life, getting divorced is remarkably crap - makes you simultaneously both thicker and thiner skinned than you could have believed possible.

7. Finally, a Well Done, you finished the year in Spain, during the kind of disorganised and yet uniquely enjoyable holiday only those of my dad's caliblre can achieve.

In fluctuating style, I hope to return to blog again, and will endevour for it not to be one year hence.