I always suspected that when the affects of the jetlag began to wane I would suffer a…retrograde step…shall we say. So much happened to me in this city last year that few people understand why it is that I’ve come back here.

Surely I would avoid it for the rest of my life?

Surely if a city and it’s people caused you so much pain you would never again wish to return?

This is my home though.

Walking around this morning in the early morning twilight it was hard not to flash back to those twelve months of intense pain I endured last year. All of the bullshit I had to deal with on a daily basis – all of the bullshit I have to deal with on a daily basis. It’s all still there, hidden beneath the surface, hidden under dustbins and benches and doorways which once were my homes, my beds for the night. Secluded beneath the smiles and lies and conversation. I thought I’d changed. Maybe I haven’t?

It’s weird. Confusing and frustrating all in one gulp.

I self-harmed for the first time in a month and half.

The early hours of the morning.

I’m not saying it because I’m proud of it, I guess I’m saying it because I need to, because I need to be honest with what’s happening to me. Even though this blog isn’t about mental illness it’s still about me – and self-harm, for good or bad, is part of who I am. I don’t even really know why I did it. Couldn’t sleep, demons rising, as they do from time to time, nothing calling them, nothing bidding them, they’re just there, always, in the shadows and the darkness waiting to pounce.

So I feel bad today. Guilty. Angry. Annoyed with myself. It’s only one setback, but still, one is sometimes enough.

So it’s a day trying to forge ahead without falling back, glance at the scars and use them to gain strength I guess. I hear the sound of the Staff Flag’s calling. A chirpier post tomorrow, surely

Rebuilding my life is no longer exiting, I’ve been trying to do it for fifteen months now – but it’s a credit to my strength and determination that I keep on fighting, surely that’s commendable? I think so. Even if others don’t.

Although this blog isn’t a direct continuation of my previous one – in other words this is intended to be more of a stand alone progression rather than a direct sequel – it occured to me today that there will inevitably be references made to my previous life and my previous blog. Thus, treat this entry as a wee “Previously in the journey of Addy,” designed to fill in the blanks as to exactly who Addy is.

I’m a 29 year old guy who was born in Leeds. I spent my pre school years in Treharris (South Wales), my primary school years in Portlethen (Scotland) and my secondary/high school years in Caldicot (South Wales). Following leaving school I backpacked around Scotland and then onwards to Canada before returning to Inverness (Scotland) where I spent a few years studying photography/film at college before beginning a long career in backpacker hostel reception/management which would span two continents.

In 2002 I emigrated to Melbourne (Australia) where I continued my backpacker hostel career before leaving this in order to kill myself. You see to understand me, you have to understand my mental illnesses. I suffer from many, and have been fighting them my whole life. That’s what the last blog was about. To strip it down to lamens terms:

I developed social anxiety when I was at school, which led to depression and self harm. All of these three illnesses grew in strength throughout my teenage years and came to a head in late 2000 when I prepared myself for my first suicide attempt. Unsuccessful in this I carried on fighting. In December 2007 I was struck with Glandular Fever, which came at just the moment I had overcome all of my mental illnesses. A series of events followed in February 2007. Over the course of ten days I was diagnosed with leukemia, dumped by text message, kicked out of college and had my study/medical benefits denied – all whilst suffering from Glandular Fever. With no income, a serious terminal illness and the loss of my social network my brain collapsed and I suffered a nervous breakdown, which I am still battling against to this day. In November 2007 I was diagnosed with Bipolar Type 1 and in January 2008 forced to leave Australia. Which didn’t help, in fact it made everything worse. So now I’m back in Australia, in the city I love, doped up on medication and fighting hard to make my life work and prove to everyone that I’m not useless pathetic fuck up – that I am actually a decent human being worthy of life. A fact which is debatable in itself.

Although this blog isn’t about mental illness I have no doubt there will be references here and there to this part of my life. I still have good days and I still have bad days, there’s not much I can do about that. As I stress however on my previous blog I am more than my depression, I am more than my mental illnesses. I am a person, full of love, life, passion, exitement and humor - I know who I am at heart, it’s just that most people can’t see past the illnesses I suffer from, the illnesses I am tired of hiding from everyone and pretending aren’t there just to earn acceptance into the lives of the judgemental majority.

So that’s kinda a brief history of who I am, more detailed information can be found through the old blog at www.myjourneywithdepression.com, this blog is more about me; my life, my passions, my desires.

To paraphrase the ’about me’ page of my previous blog; I am a self harming, frequently suicidal, manic depressive with a severe social anxiety problem. I have few friends, am terminally lonely and suffer from a terminal illness along with numerous other physical complications. The chances of me living the life I wanted have gone, I just have to make the best of what time is left.

This blog is me – sharing my life, thoughts and loves with the world.