conclusion

Friday to Friday, the weirdest week of my life.

Between raving with my brother, smoking lots of substances lots, drinking lots of drink lots, watching lots of L Word lots, pretending to dj, dancing to Latino music and drinking cocktails, kissing boys, getting dressed up and finding places to go, sleeping on the quad in a stolen quilt, lifting an armchair off the street in Belsize Square, sipping gin and lime in a luxurious Old Street apartment...

This may also be the most hedonistic week of my life. Don't judge me...

*****

And it's been one of the hardest, the last few days. Apparently you do read this blog now, so, if you're there, hey Sam, welcome aboard.

Getting used to not seeing someone is easier than getting used to seeing someone in a different way to the way you did before. But being someone's friend is worth that. Like they say, things can only get better.

*****

On Wednesday afternoon I went to see the college psychiatrist, hopefully for the last time. I say hopefully, not because I dislike him or dislike seeing him, quite the opposite. I hope I don't see him again because I don't ever want to be in a place where I need to again.

Strange working relationship that, where I tell all my secrets in the hope of being sent away.

At the end of our session he asks me as he has done every time we've met, if I need to see him again. Not want to, need to.

Instead of a teary-eyed 'yes', I think about it and the biggest smile comes out of nowhere.

"No, I don't think I do."

If all goes to plan, I'll be coming off my medication in September.

*****

Friday, I'm talking to Catherine and Vicky and out comes the question that never fails to strike fear into the hearts of many.

"How's stuff with God?"

I say I've taken a step back, I tell her I can't call myself a Christian now because, labels aside, to be a Christian to me is to put God in control of your life and I acknowledge that that is not the case.

If the bible, or a word, was to tell me to do something, or to not do something, I wouldn't. To stop kissing boys I don't care about, to stop smoking things my mother wouldn't care for, to stop having rude thoughts about Kelly Clarkson when I think no one's looking...

I took my life back, because I got mighty sick of lying to myself, of immersing myself in a religion that, in the end, was the most painful thing in my life.

When the depression gets under control but you still can't stop crying at church, you gotta prioritise.

What's worse, picking and choosing which parts of a religion you follow, or following it all out of a frightened obligation and a desire to conform? If I don't believe that God cares whether I sleep with someone, then aren't I a beautiful fool to wait?

*****

The other thing I talk about on Wednesday, is how much happier I am now. Situations can be shit still, and are, and I can still have a good cry like anyone else.

The word he uses is 'normal', and we can bang on til dawn about what 'normal' is but here's what I think:

Normal is the state of mind in which I feel ok. Not necessarily good or bad, just ok, myself, the way I am. Each to their own, and this, finally, is my own.