Sunday evenings always seem to make me sit and reflect a lot. Last year I wrote a really long and kind of trying to understand my own mind (if you missed it here is the link). Sometimes I use this blog to manage how I’m feeling or what I’m thinking about, because I just need to get it out there.

When I was a little girl Sundays were exciting, I got to go to work with Mum and Nanna, unless my Aunt could look after me for the day, which she did a lot. I got to go help out on the stall and serve customers or sit in the car with the bag of colouring, notepads and books that I had bought to keep me entertained. The older I got I could go and explore what other people were selling. Or failing that me, Mum, Nanna and Sums would be up and in the car for 7.30 and would go and look at the car boot sales, where I would find things to sell on and make a profit. That is until it got to a point where I’d fallen in love with sleep, I’d stay at home with the dog and we’d share breakfast.

When I was a teenager I hated Sundays, I’d cry, have a terrible low, fight with my sister and look at the numbers on my wall to see how many days that I absolutely had to be in school I had left (holidays, INSET days, weekends, anything that meant I didn’t have to be there wasn’t counted because I was free). It was terrible I’d usually have to listen to my iPod while falling asleep, cry some more and that was that. I’d almost always try on Mondays. I’d try to go to school like a good girl and hope that this day, this week would be different and I wouldn’t be so crushingly sad any more. Needless to say it rarely changed.


Taken when I was about 16, a cuddle day with the dog was normal

Through the week Mum and I would make bargains with depressed me to make her go to school. It mostly consisted of when I’d get to see Ali and sometimes it worked. It got better though, after I’d hit bad lows I’d have to work from home, meaning I got better. Then I’d go back to school and it would all happen again, I’d get chipped away piece by piece until I was physically ill again. Now I know it was the depression but I just thought I had a super low immune system. Sundays were always the days where I would try so desperately hard again.

Now I kind of like them, I usually have a day where I just do things for myself, lie ins with Ali after he’s been working late or it’s post gig day. I get my reading finished for the week ahead and look forward to seeing my friends and whatever I’ve planned that week. It’s a far cry from the anxiety ridden days of school.

I know this post is super reflective, but I’ve been thinking about the old me a lot this afternoon while reading ‘The Time In Between’ by Nancy Tucker about her battle with eating disorders. I will be reviewing it because it’s incredible. I read a lot of books like this about overcoming and wonder if, one day, I should write everything down, even if it’s just for me. I wonder if anyone would even be interested in reading that? If by telling my story of when I was younger up until now I would be helping anybody? Am I ready to share everything? It’s a crazy thought and I’m really not sure whether it’s just a silly thing or whether it would be cathartic to get everything out.I don’t know but, there we go my exploring my life Sunday brain is in force. I don’t mind it as much now though, because I don’t dread the week ahead like I used to 🙂

Tomorrow will be interesting, my wheelchair is arriving, another doctors appointment (I hope she’s ready for my super anxious mind) and I have to say goodbye to Alissa before she goes back to the US *sniff, sniff*. Hopefully speak to you guys tomorrow.Oh! Before I forget. You guys have been awesome this past week, likes commenting, I love it, thank you! If you have any ideas on the ‘should I write out my life’ thing then let me know belooooooow. As always I love chatting with you all.

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