my first blog

Well, I just had a fabulously successful party! Ok, sales weren't the best, but I managed to sell off a considerable amount of my old stock - only cost was buying new Buzz Fresh Wipes!

Apparently, on my extremely drunken birthday, I told boyfriend's best friend that he may need to prepare a best man's speech within a year. This resulted in the most gentle chastising imaginable from boyfriend, who'd clearly had to fend off the interrogation for most of the evening.

Why can't I just shut up? What part of my brain told me that George would be remotely happy or supportive? If moving to London means we'll spend more time with him then what a fucking nightmare.

The last thing I need is someone convincing Patrick he shouldn't be with me. If that happened, I'd be back on the downward spiral without a doubt. Yeah he'd be better off with someone sane, but wasn't I yelling that at him that night?

My sister almost ran me over last night. I thought she was actually going to do it. Mum was heading off to see the boyfriend, again, and Ellie announced that she would follow Mum wherever she went and embarrass her. Mum employed my help to try and talk some sense into her, but she refused to talk to me and, when I stood in front of the car, drove it into me.

Boyfriend is only support through all this, but he has finals next week, then I have finals, then we're going on holiday separately and not seeing each other for two weeks. I'm desperately trying not to be a drain on him but I'm like the human leech at the moment, and there really is noone else I can talk to - noone else will listen. I just want to sit and be hugged and cry and cry and cry until I fall asleep, because I am exhausted.

I know I seriously need to revise but I can't help but feel I'll fail anyway, so why bother? All I can think about is cutting again. Now with boyfriend away, I'll have the time to myself. If I could just find a place which sells old-fashioned blades...

I just rediscovered this account after two years and thought I'd write.

Thinking about life since then, it's amazing how some things have changed enormously, and some not at all. I haven't taken a single day off "sick" since June last year, and I left the job at the evil big four firm... to work for another evil big four firm. Most importantly, though, I have a boyfriend.

I know it's terribly unfeminist to rank this factor so highly, but I honestly believe that he's the reason for my turnaround in attitude. While I still suck at work due to some remarkably dumb, small mistakes which have had terrible consequences, I am at least going to work these days.

Despite my hatred of London, we are moving there in a few months, once I get a job sorted out. He is utterly supportive of everything I do, and the first person in my life to say "It's ok to feel how you feel" and actually make me feel like a non-crazy person. At the same time, he's so perfect he makes me feel completely undeserving, but by no fault of his own.

I don't seem to have any friends anymore. I've driven everyone away with my drinking - no I'm not a wake-up-and-have-a-vodka kinda gal, but every time I go out, I get wrecked and cry about anything and everything. As a result, people have slowly become vague about arranging nights out; my sister will only let certain friends (who already know I'm a nightmare, and whom she doesn't really like) come out with us. Furthermore, my boyfriend is suddenly unwilling for us to go out with his rugby friends anymore.

I tried the prozac option for a while, and I think it made my drunken behaviour less awful, but I can never remember to take pills - thank god my contraceptive is injected!

My birthday was a big kick in the teeth. After quitting alcohol for a fortnight due to a low-carb diet, and changing my drink of choice to the less palatable G&T, I found that I just wasn't drinking as much. I shared this info with my birthday buddy, before drinking two bottles of Cava and catching my hair alight. This could have been laughed off (and was with some friends) as good old British girl drunken capers had I not continued my downward spiral on the journey home. I decided to tell my boyfriend, in front of his best friend, my sister and her friend, that he was an idiot for being with me, and why didn't he go and find someone thin and pretty and sane. All of this walking down Oxford Street and crying my eyes out, occasionally walking into the road, with some degree of intent.

As well as this, looking at some photos from the night, I was clearly having a heated discussion with a girl I know through my birthday buddy, because the look on my face was close to tears. I had to delete the photo because I knew I'd torture myself trying to figure out what the hell I'd said to her, whilst being too afraid to actually ask her.

I really don't know why I keep doing this. Admittedly, I like the feeling of being drunk, that is, before the tears start, but surely everyone who drinks on a Saturday night likes that feeling? I just don't know when to stop. And god forbid someone suggest to me that it's time to slow down - that'll get me heading for the triples before you can say "Jack Daniel's".

The parents splitting up hasn't helped. Everything just seems so sordid - my mother spending an entire evening dancing with a male friend, leading to a physical argument resulting in a nasty black eye and mum disappearing for three days. The next stage was dad sleeping with a 23 year old, getting punched by my maternal uncle's best friend, and being accused of having had an affair for 10 years.

Top off the family embarrassment with the fact that my 11 year old cousin has just been expelled for dealing marijuana. Is it any wonder I'm such a navel-gazing nutter, with the craziness that surrounds me? But in that case, why are my brother and sister such well-adjusted, popular achievers? It makes me think that there's got to be something chemical going on - which leads us back to my happy green pills. Maybe it's about time I grew up and actually stuck at something, even if it is just a chemical escape - at least it'll make me more tolerable.