Free form jazz, kittens and the infinite sadness

First a confession. T'was my birthday recently. I'm now a 29 year old single mum. Sorry for telling lies. Although if you ask me my age I will tell you I am 21 and you gosh darn better believe me. I'm planning my 30th party already. The dress code is black tie and converse, vans are banned (the shoes not the vehicles).

Depression, anxiety and all that jazz can be confusing. One minute i am trundling along happy as a happy thing and next minute I am like sadsack from the raggy dolls.

This time I saw the sadsack coming. Got to the doctors and am getting treated before the never ending nap began again. I have admittedly been sleeping a whole lot lately but not to the extent i did last time. And I have been out of bed on brief occasions to visit friends. I am handling it a lot better this time.

Now we all know my favourite thing to do is to get tattooed. So I did. I always feel an odd sense of happiness after I have been tattooed.
I have had the bottom half of my right sleeve started. Acting like Johnny big balls before I went in there I was sure I was gonna be ok to get this finished. 4 hours in and a lot of temper tantrums I had to give up. Getting tattooed hurts don't let anyone tell you otherwise they are liars. So now I need to go back and get it finished.

One of the things with getting your arm tattooed is that it's easier to trot round asda in a t-shirt that wear a jumper that will stick to Bepanthen. On my Sunday shopping trip the day after my tattoo I suddenly became aware of something I have not felt before. I was being stared at. It was odd and off putting. Suffice to say I left asda with red bull, chocolate hobnobs and not much else. A delicious Sunday lunch though.

The confusion comes in when the happiness pops up. I want to be happy, I want to be better. I don't wanna be the annoying mate that whines on about being down all the time. There has been one thing above all others these last few weeks that has made me smile like an idiot. But then I get the guilt. Again not a bad guilt. I still haven't murdered and I definitely have not raped. But a guilt that makes me question myself. Why should I be happy?

It keeps me awake almost every night and then my mind wanders which is why at 1.23am I am up writing this and not sleeping.

Night world, sleep tight.

P.S. I stole the pic from my tattooerist Scott Owen from Mantra Tattoo in Cheltenham. I hope you don't mind Scott.