Getting used to Happy

For those used to writing about the weight of depression, happiness seems hard to define as something solid.

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Looking back on recovery

And by no means has ‘recovery’ been perfect. I managed to get myself into a nightmarish relationship straight afterwards, was further emotionally traumatised by Will.. uhh I mean Bill, and ended up quitting my whole life in Oxford. But, at no point since Recovery Day no.1 did I reach the lowest ever again. Why?

Because I knew I could fucking handle it.

“Sexual harassment in the workplace isn’t really a thing if it’s a customer, not a colleague”

I’m going to keep this short (and decidedly not sweet), as the images speak for themselves. And I’ve been dithering and worrying about whether to even make this post at all, and have landed on yes. I should. Yes, it’s important and necessary to document an experience like this in order to protect myself. And […]

I would rather suffer a thousand papercuts and dive into shark infested waters than endure a room full of male travellers masquerating as responsible educators.

“I can’t wait to get back to see those American asses in tight jeans,” the women here “all have flat asses”, oh and “my Thai squeeze is so frigid, she won’t even hold my hand” but simultaneously “they’re all so easy!”OH, aaaaand  “I hate all Thai women”, they’re “greedy” and “all they want is money.” […]