I have been deleting and re-writing this entry for literally hours (and by that, I mean probably a good 10 minutes). I can be dead eloquent when I'm struggling, but because when something good happens I get borderline manic, my head goes a million miles per hour and it's really difficult to adequately express, well, anything. I can spend hours writing cryptic shopping lists, even, just for the craic. Small things, hahaha.
Yesterday, I had the best day I've had in so long. It started at 4.55am (not that I'm bitter, but as I write this I'm sending death vibes to the member of staff who woke me up), and ended somewhere around 10pm. I went back to Milton Keynes- the town of my conception (did Jesus ever visit Mary/Gabriel's den? He should've, even Harry Potter went back to Godric's Hollow)- which was bizarre, for a conference on pathways to recovery. The conference was incredible and overwhelming; there's something so beautiful about sitting in a room and knowing that a large percentage of us in there would not be alive without both the physical and mental health services that we all complain about. We were saved, and maybe we were saved for a reason, I don't know. All I know is it almost feels magical.
I presented and I listened to a lot of others speak, too. There was such a positive atmosphere, despite the seriousness and emotional aspects of what we discussed. There was so much courage and willingness and it was, I don't know, inspirational.
It was also a brilliant networking event. I've now got contact details from some of the people there, and I can't wait to get in touch with them. Numerous people expressed interest in me presenting in their areas and, God, I'm happy. I'm proud. I kick arse. And if you know me, you know those are not thing I can often say.
(Also, the staff with me were pretty cool and we ended up in a trampoline park. But for God's sake, don't let anyone know I said that they were cool. Ahem. I totally didn't have a brilliant laugh with them. Ahem).