Bishops finger anyone?

Oh, isn't this interesting. I've said before that this blog is an abridged but not edited version of the events that make up my life. Trainer boy turned out to be with someone else the whole time and army boy and action geek both started to send me photo texts of their "bits" with no encouragement and hounding me for all sorts of filthy stuff. They showed their true colours in the end. I think it's alarming that automatically it's me that's at fault for not wanting to be messed about or sent filthy shots of someone's "family jewels". In fact, there's nothing less sexy than being in a moderation meeting about standards in children's numerical calculation and being sent a home made snap of a trousersnake in full "action mode" in broad daylight under an artifical light. Yuk!

As for my blogging. My counsellors said that a blog where I could gain perspective by writing my thoughts down was a good idea. This would never have been my own choice but they obviously knew what I needed as I have been overwhelmed by support from some of the kindest people I have ever met. It's been a revelation to know that there are some genuinely warmhearted people out there who restored my faith in the human race when it was rocked to the core.

To those people, (and you know who you are) I am eternally grateful. It has also taught me that the world can be nasty, cruel and judgemental and I am the first to admit that I used to have a rose tinted view of the world and if nothing else, this blog has taught me that the world is not full of people like my friends and family who are funny, supportive, loving and truly wonderful. This blog is both cathartic and educational for me. I learn that there are nasty, cruel people in the world as well as true diamonds. Maybe I have been privileged and surrounded by loving people all of my life or maybe this blog has just proved that ST is not the only swine in the world. I just don't know.

I am the first to admit that I have had major issues this year. I have been diagnosed with post traumatic stress, stress related panic and anxiety disorder and post traumatic depression. This has been diagnosed by NHS doctors and the psychiatric crisis team. All of them, through family sessions with my parents and brother and through numerous sessions with me have all pointed the finger at ST and have reached the conclusion that I am totally "normal" and have simply reacted to months of systematic emotional abuse and neglect from ST. As for now, I have a clean bill of health and am clinically done, dusted and totally back on the train to normalsville via everydaytown and mundaneton

I accept that since what ST did I have acted "abnormally" but I refute the argument that I was to blame. Scores of qualified mental health and counselling professionals who have worked closely with my entire family and support network have stated categorically that there is nothing "wrong" with me and that I have simply been the victim of a terribly emotionally abusive relationship. So, for those armchair psychiatrists who wish to analyse me, thank you so much for your thoughts, I include you in the list of people who I class as "kind" but would ask that you leave the diagnosis to the professionals. I don't mean to sound patronising in any way and apologise if I do but there is, and was, far more to this than I would ever actually write. Please bear this in mind. Some of it is too private and too upsetting to ever begin to write. I appreciate your concern and thoughts though and I thank you very genuinely - you must be very caring people to take the time to think of me.

I have had an interesting evening tonight though. After spending most of the afternoon standing on my head (not bad for 33) in a gym lesson with my class I was just about to leave school when my headteacher cracked open a huge bag of mini eggs which I fell into then had such a sugar slump that I had some sort of glucose paralysis that left me flailing in my office chair with only the strength to organise a staff night out to celebrate the birth of a colleague's baby yesterday. We are now going out next friday for bubbly, gin and farley's rusks cocktails. Ouch.

Met my best mate at half five at the pub for the Friday rioja fest. I wolfed down far too much wine and a bowl of chips and am now at my parents' watching QI and drinking sherry. There truly is no end to my rock and roll lifestyle. Rumour has it I'm featuring in NME next month on the top 100 coolest people list. I swear I'm only one step away from those tartan slippers out of the back of Sunday supplements and a glass of sanatogen tonic wine.

My mate's no better though. After a couple of glasses of wine, she announced that all she wanted was a costume drama and a lie down. A couple of years ago this would have meant dressing up as nurses or wonder woman and falling into bed with a bottle of Jack Daniels and an unsuitable man - these days it means a Sky plussed version of Jane Austen's "Emma" and a chicago town pizza for one on the settee. We must be getting old.

Tom's on his way home at the moment. He's been working in Cheltenham all day and now has a two hour drive back home and has to get to his house to pack before he comes round to mine tomorrow to go to London. His appraisal went well though so that's good. Spent loads of time on the internet today sourcing his Valentine's present. Got him a retro 70s football shirt for his favourite team and a pair of cufflinks. We have a running joke that cufflinks are the weakest present you can ever buy a guy so I've got him some on purpose to wind him up! The shirt's really cool though as he goes to support our local team even though he doesn't really have time to go. He goes cause his dad died a couple of years ago and his dad always used to take him so he goes as a kind of tribute. I got him the shirt cause it's a version of the shirt the team would have been wearing when his dad used to first take him as a kid. I hope he likes it.

Needed a drink tonight though as a kid in my class scared the life out of me. He nicked someone's bike after school and rode it round the playground. However, he didn't realise it didn't have any brakes and ended up introducing himself to a wooden post by whacking his head into it. He's since had a trip to A&E and I'm pretty sure he'll have a nice big egg on his head by Monday. It was what contributed to my exhaustion though as the paperwork involved in one headbump is enough to bring an EU 3 day conference for administrative reshuffling to its knees. After numerous carbon copies of the event I had almost lost the will to live almost as much as the little soul had lost gallons of blood out of his skull. His mum and him were given a lift to A&E by a supply teacher who lived near the hospital and I dived into the emergency mini eggs. It made standing on my head and then doing forward rolls all afternoon pale into comparison. It was pretty horrendous. The poor love was really shaken up and the caretaker had to press the sand into action to cover all the blood. His poor mum was a wreck (as was the bike) and all I wanted to do was give them both a hug but cause of all sorts of regulations I couldn't. It really is daft that when you genuinely want so show a bit of human compassion and let someone know you care and provide some comfort you can't because of red tape and regulations. I hope the little soul's alright. He acts so tough in class but he's really a little softy. Guess the juinor disprin will be flowing in his house tonight.

I'm now being force fed pringles by my mum and watching my dad snore his way through a bottle of "Bishops finger"- again there's no end to the rollercoaster of fun that is my life! So, in this maelstrom of debauchery I think I'll sign off again. This time tomorrow I'll be watching Billy Elliot. Let's just hope the kids in that don't decide to headbutt the scenery and can get home in one piece.

Lots of love.

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