I'm finally feeling better! I dunno what got me but it sucked a big, fat, hard, throbbing cock; you may think that was unnecessarily vulgar but the illness did mandate that description. But! Good news! I am still feeling well in my head! It's all relative of course, I'm still barely functioning by usual human standards, but I'm starting to feel kinda hopeful that I really am moving away from the centre of the metaphorical woods.

I don't know if I ever said this before but I really haven't been able to care for myself at all for about four years. I spent nearly two of those bed bound, the walks I filmed for my videos were genuinely the only time I ever left my bed other than to wee, making the videos was something told myself I HAD to do but even then I'd often go weeks without being able to make anything. The slightest exertion would leave me exhausted for days, sometimes weeks. I was making my peace with having a serious physical illness, then I'd have the odd period of mania where I would seemingly improve and become way more active but it never lasted long and I would crash deeper than ever before after. Making my walk videos was the genuinely the only thing that kept me any sort of active, gave me a reason to do the most basic self care. It's unbelievable to me looking back on those times, a lot of it I have no memory of but I can see the videos I made, I'd insult myself, call myself lazy and a failure and a waste of space and convince myself I shouldn't exist. All that was because of the mental damage I'd received during years of abuse. I'm relieved the things I told myself weren't true, I wasn't lazy or whatever, I was very very ill, now I'm getting better and I can do things but I now feel sad for the loss of that time...

And what I put TechBoy through. If I hadn't gotten lucky and found him before I started to fall apart I am certain I would have died.

I don't really know how to express in words my gratitude to him but I feel like the least I can do is mention just some of how much he's done so you can understand just how wonderful he is.

He just saw me start to fall, all those years ago, grabbed my hand and held on tight. For all of those years he made sure I ate, brought me food, made sure I drank. He reached out to healthcare professionals to get me support which I would have never done on my own and advocated for me when I didn't have the will to do it myself.

He gave me the space to wallow in my pain and finally feel it, he gave his ear to my recursive thoughts and refections on the things that happened to me. He reassured me, held me while I cried and wailed for hours. He defended me from my psychosis, enduring anything that leaked out of my burning psyche with kindness and understanding. Each of these countless times. He was the rock I held onto during the storm, warm and safe. He was the island I lived on while the horrors inside me raged like the maelstrom.

It's still hard for me to believe that he convinced me he was safe, but he did. It took years but voice that said he's waiting to hurt me has gone; fully reassured that he is safe and remains safe, somehow defeating the instincts I spent years fermenting.

And he did all that while asking nothing from me other than I not give up. I didn't think I would recover, I'd even say that I KNEW I wouldn't, I had no hope and I'd tell him that. He'd reply telling me he'd "just hope twice as hard to make up for it" and so I didn't give up. It's looking like maybe he was right and I'm left wondering what I ever did to deserve someone showing up out the blue and doing that for me, me who had been treated like a meat punching-bag for as long as she could remember before then.

Anyway, I'm starting to suspect he has a crush on me or something?

Woah, I wasn't planning on writing about that but what comes, comes I suppose. Here's some pictures of me in a pretty dress, I'll love you XOXO