Well, it's December...

...and I'm not actually in bed clutching a bottle of gin to my chest. This is partly because I tend to drink Whiskey in the winter,and partly because I no longer Hate Myself and Want To Die. So, hurrah. Not an entirely wasted year, in spite of evidence to the contrary. My hero of the year is my ,( vair dashing actually), Doctor,who has found a course of treatment that has enabled me to set about mending myself.
  Is all quite humbling. For most of my adult life I've just kind of assumed that all the things that were wrong with me were intrinsic, hard wired into my personality. If. I'm being honest with myself I think that there was a degree of arrogance at play here. A rationalisation of charecteristics into some kind of mission statement. For example, I cried more than anybody I've ever met. Three or four times a day was normal. Once a month for ten days I was virtually incapacitated by grief and dread. Could cry for hours at a time and make myself sick from exhaustion. Obviously, the rational response to all these histrionics would be to think that something fairly wrong was afoot. Not me though.I thought that it just meant that I was extraspecially sensitive and uniquely vulnerable, and that those who loved me would just deal with it. There is a list of people to whom I would like to apologise for being a childish pain in the arse, but they know who they are ,and now is not the place. Being an arrogant mare, who'd bought into the whole cult of suffering thing I thought that I could not be fixed. Some dodgy experiences with drugs and therapists which were wrong for me just enforced this belief. Not sure what changed. I remember lying in the bath one Sunday weeping, as ever, and thinking that I had to stay in the bath because otherwise I couldn't promise not to kill myself. Hormones can really do a number on a girl if she lets them. That's the humbling thing. How much of it was down to wonky chemistry. How much of me is down to chemistry. Not my intellect, or my insight,( which was always fairly skewed anyway), not my unique bloody magnificence or brilliant sensitivity. Hormones and Chemistry. Which were wrong, and are now being put right.
For the first time in ages, twenty plus years worth of ages, I'm actually looking forward to next year. Not resigned to the fact that it will happen,or anxious about things which I can't control, and wouldn't want to. Forward.