I haven�t been in good shape. The signs were all there in the past month, and I suppose I knew deep down where this was headed, but I ignored it.

I well and truly buried my head in the sand.

Sometimes, just knowing really isn�t enough. Understanding pain doesn�t make it any easier. In theory it should help, but it really doesn�t. My instinct is still to repress.

I know depression can be a series of ups and downs. I may have ignored how I felt for years, living in that house and hiding from the world; catching glimpses of my true nature in those magnificent moments of clarity. But I don�t do that anymore. I�ve promised myself better.

I haven�t felt more in tune with how my emotions work in�well ever.

But that means, along with the good, I have to learn to ride out the bad. That�s what I�ve been doing this week; riding out a bad wave. A suffocating, selfish, agonising wave.

Telling yourself that things could be so much worse doesn�t always have the effect you want it to. Telling yourself that you have a lot to be thankful for doesn�t always compute.

I remember when I was a teenager, when the full extent of what life was like finally caught up with my adult awareness � I used to make lists in my head. I would run through all the good things that I had, every superficial and sincere thing I held in high regard. I needed to be reminded of these things in order to look past the bad. I had to have something to keep a hold of, something to make me keep going. Against all odds right *smiles*

It would go something like this:
�You always have your brother. The family is crazy and stressful, but at least you�ve got one. You have some great friends. You live in a lovely house, in a lovely bedroom, full of lovely things. You�re smart, you�re pretty, you�re unique � you�re completely quirky and you�re completely you. You also have a really cute boyfriend. This will all work out.�

A bit odd? Yes. But did it work? Surprisingly, also yes.

As innately childish as my mental reel was, maybe giving it up wasn�t an especially wise decision. Maybe I need to reinvent my mantra to remind myself, in particularly bad times, that shiz isn�t as bad as I think it is.

I�m not even going to pretend to analyse why I behave the way I do sometimes � it would take a therapist years. Why some of my morals are completely off kilter, while others stand steadfast. The anger I know I keep tightly bound. The trust I rarely show, the love I have trouble expressing. The fact I retreat into my mind and become oblivious to my surroundings about 50% of the time. The crap I do that borders on OCD. Shit, I�m a poster child for the word �issues�. Korn should have used me on their album cover. But I digress�

I need a new mantra. I also need something in it that reminds me why doing shit like going to University, paying off my debts and dieting, is something that will make me happier in the end. Everything in me right now tells me to fuck it�to just give up and lie down and let fate assault me with everything it has in store. But the problem with that philosophy is that it goes against the one thing I�ll always hold dearest to my heart.

Freedom.

That�s why I�m doing everything. That�s why I do anything at all. Freedom. Pure and fucking simple.

I think that�s why I never made plans when I was younger. A part of me is always looking out for the long term. Sometimes I would have visions of how nice it would be to be a journalist, even a lawyer at one point (my penchant for seeking justice came out there). But I quelled those desires; I told myself I didn�t want ties, didn�t want expectations and responsibilities.

And I still don�t. But writing isn�t a tie for me anymore; it�s what sets me free. It�s a huge part of me that won�t ever go away.

Going to University helps my writing, it makes me conceivably better � it also gives me time to not make commitments of any kind; not having to plan anything serious or worry about the mundane for three years is a god send. It allows me to come away with a qualification; a way of making me and others proud, of proving I have the mettle inside of me I know I do.

It gives me time to pay off everything I owe. Wipe the slate clean so to speak. Move past anything bad and move forward. It helps me beat any hold this illness has had over me.

Clearing my debts gives me financial freedom. Financial freedom means I can disappear into the crowd anytime I feel like it. I can melt away. It gives me that beautiful, beautiful freedom I�ve always longed for.

Dieting helps battle the depression. It gives me back that lease of life I had before � the freedom to wear anything and do anything, and never feel the clutches of self-consciousness.

I need these three things to give me back my life. I need them to knit me back together and make me whole again.

I�m fragmented, and it�s just not good enough.

I�m tired of being angry and disappointed in myself for not being able to just walk away from these feelings. I�m not super woman. I have a shed load of vulnerabilities I�m only beginning to learn about.

I am what I am.

I did wonder if writing down everything would really help me in the end (an argument I�m sure many people have had over time) if I�m already feeling ashamed of myself, what will it be like when I�m better? � But fuck it. If I can look back in a year and realise my behaviour was ludicrous, then good for me.

I�m forever looking back at the things I�ve said or done and laughing at my insensibility. It just proves I have the strength to grow and realise when I�ve been wrong, or just plain stupid.

I can�t change who I was, only who I�m becoming.

And on that note, I�m going to empty my head of everything that�s been floating around in it for too long. You can be my pensieve diary, you�ll like that I�m sure.

I�m kind of fucked off with Howie right now. Well, maybe fucked off is a bit much�disappointed and annoyed? Yeah, that�s about right.

I was talking to him about the latest development in the on-going family feuds, this time between my mother and her sister, and the consequent cancellation of the family holiday in August. Explaining the background behind my dislike of my auntie (the whole stealing the house money off Grams and Uncle James thing and essentially leaving them homeless, and the tight fisted shit that goes on�oh and the Uncle Dominic divorce and impregnation by the old landlord thing) and my fury with my Grams sometimes (the whole meddling, scheming, gossiping thing she has going on, and the blatant neglect of her children over the years�and the whole being completely insensible 99% of the time thing) and somehow, because he told me my family was bat shit crazy, in so many words, and I tried explaining that it didn�t change how I felt about them�he called me spineless.

And it just grates on me; that because I can�t find a way of actually hating my family, he thinks I�m spineless.

It doesn�t just grate�it makes me furious.

I don�t know how to not care. It sounds ludicrous to say it, but how the fuck do you just stop caring for your family? I just don�t know how to do it.

It sort of makes me laugh really. For years I was under this misguided conception that I was heartless, that I didn�t care at all. I thought all the anger I held against them meant I was bitter and twisted and unable to love properly. Only, I am bitter and twisted sometimes, but I care too much. I was angry �cause I felt betrayed by the people I love, and it hurt.

I thought I didn�t know how to forgive, but I do. I forgive more easily than others in fact. I work out the issues and I think things through rationally, yes rationally! And I move on.

It doesn�t mean I�m getting trampled on. Lord knows I know how to defend myself and my principals when warranted. Yes, it stresses the fuck out of me sometimes and they�re all a little responsible for my �issues��but they�re my family and I love them, regardless, or perhaps in spite of this.

So what if my step father�s a monster. So what if I remember things like being thrown across rooms, and I can still remember the feel of my little heart beating out of my chest with fear. I remember I called him Dad from the age of 2. I remember wrestling with him on the edge of swimming pools in the Balearics and laughing my head off at being chucked in. I remember hiring peddalos with slides on and being caught before the waves could engulf me. I remember piggy back rides in the park. I remember.

I can�t just replace everything good with everything bad. I don�t know how to, and even if I did, I wouldn�t want to.

It�s my right to feel how I want about people. It�s my fucking right.

If I want to still care about my Dads. Both of them. Despite my estrangement from one, and the fact the other is locked behind bars. Then that�s up to me for shit�s sake.

I never ask people to pass judgement on them, and I mostly can�t stand it when they do.

When my friends call my Mum a bitch or get scared of my Dad, it upsets me. I know why they do it, I�m not stupid and I�m not na�ve � but isn�t it up to me how I feel?? They�re a part of me.

I love them. Not like I love my brother, but I still care. I�m fiercely protective, irrationally so sometimes, I get that. Seriously, I do. I know people think this makes me a marshmallow, or stupid.

I can see them looking at me, trying to comprehend the way I talk about it. Trying to filter through the vague comments to work out how I truly feel.

How can I be so thoroughly independent and act so coldly when there�s this crater filled with repressed love just below the surface? How can I change my name and reject my old one when I still care? How can I distance myself from everyone when it hurts?

Because that�s how I survive it all. My accomplishments are mine and mine alone; my name was mine to choose. I gave myself that freedom, nobody else. And no matter how far away I get, I never stop caring. It never stops hurting, it just gets more bearable.

I may bitch and moan, and rant and rave about select family members or friends. I may talk hotly and make judgements and say things I probably don�t really mean. But I reserve that right. It�s mine.

But I�m not spineless. I hate that he thinks that about me. I keep wanting to scream at him and say �Really? How can you be so wrong about me? How can you know so little about how my brain works??�

Then I wonder what other people think. If he�s one of my best friends, if he�s known me for ten years and he thinks this of me. If he knows more than most, but nowhere near enough, what is it like for the people who hardly know anything at all?

Do they think I�m spineless too?

And then I�m angry at myself for caring in the slightest what other people think of me.

Fuck it. It�s well within his right to think whatever he wants about me, but I just wish it wasn�t something I felt was so off the mark.

I don�t feel weak because I care, I feel weak when people know I care.

I shouldn�t be surprised really, he�s always telling me that I�m a coward �cause I don�t know how to get the weirdo guys to leave me alone. Just because I refuse to tell them to fuck off and be mean doesn�t mean I don�t stand up for myself. I�m just gentle about letting people down and I try not to take my frustration out on them, that�s all.

I feel like offering up all these explanations for my behaviour makes me sound like I�m trying to reason it out with myself, only it�s really not like that. I wish I could just be understood. That�s what anyone wants right?

Gah.

Let�s talk about something else.

So I walked into town with my brother when he had to go to work. It was a nice walk actually, sunny and pretty. I nearly made him late for work when we passed the field with the horses, �cause I insisted on going to say hello.

I�ve got a bit of a fascination with horses at the moment; I really want to take some riding lessons at some point. Anyhow, one of the horses came trotting over to me and as soon as my brother realised how feckin� big it was he backed away, which made me start giggling. The horsey let me stroke him and blew his horsey breath over my face to say hello. Silly brother for being scared of the horse, he wasn�t going to hurt anyone *chuckles*.

I�ve noticed that the older I get the more I love animals. I�ve always had a pull towards zoos and animals parks, but more and more lately I�ve found that residual fear of things unknown disappearing and I all but act entranced when I come across animals. Such a weirdo.

If the writing career never pans out, at least I know I�ve got another calling. Mwahaha. Oooh, working in a zoo would be sooo much fun. Except the yucky parts, don�t think I�d be able to escape those. It�d probably be worth it though.

Talking of animals, I�ve half got my cat back. It�s hilarious really. Ever since she realised I was back around she�s been coming in the house during the day and going back next door to eat and sleep at night. I haven�t fed her anything �cause I figured she wasn�t ours and I didn�t want her to keep coming back for something we didn�t have, especially when my Ma gets back. But she keeps coming. It�s kind of adorable.

She just struts inside, tangles herself up in my legs, keening her little meows and then jumps into my arms to sleep. She�s malting though so everything seems to be covered in white fur � my Ma just had to buy a dark brown sofa huh.

It�s comforting though, having her presence there while Lew is at school. Then I chat away to her in a high pitched voice, while I start cooking Lew dinner to have ready after his cycle ride home. I feel like a cross between a deranged cat lady and a housewife, minus the husband.

If my brother�s tired of my faffing he hasn�t said anything. I made him about five galaxy hot chocolates before he left the house this morning, plus I insisted on making him bacon, sausage and egg baguettes. Then I did his washing and laughed while he hair dried his shorts �cause they weren�t drying quick enough. Nutter.

It�s definitely nice to be here. It�s sort of soothing. When I was sitting up in bed reading a book this morning and he came in and flung himself down next to me on top of my covers and went back to sleep, it just made me chuckle. I don�t feel quite so alone, you know?

Little rascal definitely gets some stuff from me though. I thought I�d have a look around Primark while he was working and found a few nice bits of jewellery, and to my surprise a pretty woven basket bag and a laptop bag (I�ve had a lot of trouble finding something that fits my laptop, it�s too long for the usual ones) and when I took my stuff to his till he changed the price of the laptop bag from �8 to �4 and the bag from �6 to �1. I didn�t say a thing to give him away, but laughed when I got outside. Guess my craftiness has rubbed off on him, I should be worried right?

Nah, he�s the perfect gentleman. Is it completely wrong that it just filled me up with a sort of maternal pride? I�m cracked.

I spent most of the week avoiding Grams. Her inane comments about Ma�s whereabouts and her problems were starting to wear my already thin nerves down. I managed to spend last Saturday and Monday with her, and then I bit the bullet and agreed to meet her in town yesterday.

It actually went pretty fine, she insisted on buying me lunch and we sat at hers chatting for hours. Though this is no doubt due to my sudden curiosity about the past. I had her regaling me with all sorts of details about my Grandfather and his family, and my Great Grandfather.

I think, if I�d been given the chance to meet him, I would have loved my Grandfather very much. But that�s not saying anything, considering my proclivity to love everyone in my family regardless of their persona. But I reckon, despite the whole criminal thing, I would have actually respected him a lot. My brother agrees with me.

Whereas my Dad is a stupid criminal, hence the 33 conviction shit, my Grandfather was a master at it. I wonder how different my Mum�s life would have been if he�d managed to smuggle her to Switzerland and away from my Grandmother. I can�t help but wish he�d done it, despite the fact I�m well aware my brother and I wouldn�t exist.

Anyhow, she�s fully satisfied �cause I�ve spent some time with her, and she�s off to Budapest tomorrow so I won�t have to think about pleasing anyone but myself until they�re all back from their respective holidays on Friday.

I have a doctor�s appointment on Tuesday morning and then my college Research meeting. Both of these things will hopefully clarify a lot of the crap that�s been buzzing around my head.

The doc�s going to increase my meds, but I could sort of sense that coming. I felt great for a little while, well okay not great but definitely improved, but it seems to have gone downhill again. Plus I�ve been going through a pack of Nurofen a week with these headaches and my head just feels like it�s stuffed with cotton wool. I can�t seem to concentrate on shit.

I�ve definitely got the fidgeting bug from these pills though. I find myself tapping things or jogging my leg up and down without realising, and sometimes my hands shake like crazy.

My meeting with Amy should help me get back on track with college work. She�s good at that sort of stuff, thank god. I need a few points clarified and a bit of help, and then tada, I should be up to date and concentrating on my Research project and getting it all out of the way. *sighs*

I had to chuckle at the postman yesterday. Somehow he managed to put everyone�s mail in the wrong letter box, so when I went outside to walk across to next door with their post, I noticed everyone doing the same, and the neighbours on the right placed ours in the open doorway and chuckled when they saw me skipping across the wet lawn. How can he have got everyone�s so frickin� wrong? *rolls eyes*

It rained! Oooh, I love when it rains and it�s been super-hot. I LOVE it. Just thought I�d get that out there. I should really water my Ma�s plants but I don�t want to go outside today. Too wrapped up in watching Smallville and Grey�s Anatomy and going all soppy. Chloe and Oliver were just made for each other.

I�ve finally caught up on my rent payments. I don�t owe Zowie any money right now, which makes me breathe a huge sigh of relief, only I�m flabbergasted if I know how I�m going to pay next month�s rent. Jeez. I have a ton of phone calls to make tomorrow and maybe I�ll have a clearer picture of how stuff stands.

I didn�t meet up with Jane in the end, and it sort of makes me feel bad. In fact, I�ve basically been avoiding everyone and pretending I�m busy. Which makes me horrible I know, but I just want some peace and quiet, you know?

Ma has called a few times from Barbados, which was actually kinda sweet. Maybe she thought I�d poisoned my brother *shrugs*.

Me and my brother were discussing old movies, and when Universal Soldier came up, I exclaimed that �Claude Van Dyke� was in that, which of course sent us into fits of giggles. I�m such a prat sometimes.

I found some yummy apple and cinnamon teabags in the cupboard that I must have thrown in there when we came back from Turkey one time. That brought a huge smile to my face � I do so love finding things I�ve forgotten all about.

Me and Lew went through our old family chest, the one that belonged to my Great Great Great Aunt Hannah Maria Brett. It�s filled with generations of photos and little bits and pieces, like lace and locks of hair and letters. I think we�re so lucky to have things like this, just like the huge old album we have that goes back about seven generations. It�s amazing to look at the severe people in these black and white photos and realise they�re family.

We marvelled over the pictures of Great Grandmother at 16 in 1930 lounging next to the River Ouse in Bedford. It�s like some crazy coincidence that we ended up living where she spent one of her childhood summers. Great Grams was a babe.

I found this little bronze iron wrapped in plastic with a blue note attached. It read: �Rachael, this little iron belonged to your Great Great Great Great Grandmother Catherine Brett (m. Binns) when she was a small girl�. I hadn�t seen in before, and I recognised the writing as my Great Grandmothers right away. I felt so touched, absurd right? It was like she was speaking to me from beyond the grave, giving me a little happiness when I felt like crap.

As the eldest daughter I inherit all of this stuff, and then if I have a little girl it will get passed on to her. I asked my brother if he minded, but he said it was in the best hands with me, which made me smile.

We�ve been burning Jamaican breeze and English rose incense all week �cause we thought it was too ironic to pass up. Mmmmm.

I�ve bought more charity shops books�.like eight or so. But who can turn down 50p books?! I certainly can�t.

I was faffing over what to wear on holiday when my brother reminded me that my 17 year old cousin, who is gorgeous by the way, wears boys swim shorts with a tankini top, and I thought � why the hell haven�t I done this before? Instead of being all stupidly girly and paranoid about my thighs I can just don those and swim to my heart�s content. I have this awful feeling that my crimson wave is going to come around at the time of the holiday. I�m not regular yet, but I�m picking up a distinct pattern. 1st day of the month through to the third are heavy duty days, 4th day is a breeze and then it�s gone. Only we go away on the 30th May. Grrr.

Oh, apparently it�s illegal to pick bluebells�why did no one tell me this? Something else I�ve done that I shouldn�t have. Ha. Oh�and my Ma frequents the same woods I went to with Tiv, with her fella. Talk about small world.

I did the personality test thing again and came up as INTP. I�m actually totally curious to see what I come up with in three years. Stuff changes people, you know? And I�m in for a lot of stuff.

It�s great being able to sleep with the window wide open and not worry about listening to crazy ass morning traffic. Villages are so quiet�like 90% of the time. And there�s a birds nest in the corner of Ma�s loft and I can hear the cute little chickys chirping away in the morning. And the rooster�someone nearby has a fucking rooster that likes to go on and on at 5am�.i might find it and steal it.

I ordered a couple of books from Amazon and I�m going to return them�yep, imagine that. I�m not so bad off for money right now, but I got impatient and read the eBooks before they arrived, so even though I love owning the actual books, spending �11 on something I won�t use for a long time is kind of pointless. Maybe I�ll find them second hand in the future, the point is I�ve read them; I�m not missing anything right now.

Oh and my shampoo and conditioner suck ass. I�m changing them, seriously. It�s like I have dandruff or something for the first time in my life and this is so not on. My beautiful curls deserve better than this. Hmph. Talking of my curls, they�ve been going a bit crazy lately. I never realised how noticeable it makes me�.*frowns*

Both times I got the bus into town I had to buy day riders, and when I finished using them I sought out someone to give it to. Is it stupid that this makes me feel better? Giving a little piece of happiness to someone else, even a stranger, makes me smile. What in the hell is wrong with me�admitting this kind of shit. I need sleep.

I feel better now I�ve emptied my head of all this shiz, exponentially better actually. I think I�ll go have another coffee, and none of that horrible Nescafe Decaf stuff my Ma keeps stocked in the cupboard. Kenco Smooth come to Mamma. Ooh, and TRON�I want to watch TRON and drool over the bikes.

You know�who knew being lost was so close to being found?