I think the increased medication might finally be starting to do something. This weekend has still had its downs, but there have been more “ok” moments than I expected — and honestly, that feels significant right now. Not amazing, not fixed, not suddenly glowing with positivity… just more ok. More stable. More able to breathe without immediately sinking back into myself.
I saw family over the weekend, and it reminded me of something I realised a long time ago: I’m very good at masking depression. Almost professionally good at it. I can sit there, chat, smile, make jokes, ask people how they’re doing, and nobody would really know how bad things have been in my own head recently.
Last week I reached out a bit on the “Book of Face,” partly just to see if anyone was still listening. A few people replied, which genuinely meant something, and one person in particular has been checking in with me on WhatsApp fairly regularly since. That’s helped more than they probably realise.
Some people suggested going to Pride in Birmingham in a few weeks.
And honestly? I think the full event might be too much for me. Too loud, too crowded, too overwhelming. Big public queer spaces can sometimes unexpectedly trigger bits of old trauma for me — too much exposure, too much noise, too many people all at once. It stops feeling freeing and starts feeling unsafe.
But… I do have mates in the middle of Birmingham’s gay district, and they’re only dipping in and out of specific events rather than doing the whole thing. I’m thinking I might be up for going to the leather social part of the weekend instead. That feels more manageable somehow. Smaller. More grounded. And importantly, I’d have somewhere safe to retreat to if it all becomes too much. I think they’d happily let me stay over and vanish into the flat for a bit if I needed to decompress.
Which, when I step back and look at it objectively, probably means things are improving.
I’ve even been doing a bit of work on my next tattoo design:
It’s got this organic, root-like feel mixed into Celtic braiding — something a bit darker, older, more alive. I really like where it’s heading. It feels symbolic in ways I probably don’t fully understand yet.
I just wish my inner monologue would shut the fuck up occasionally.
That constant background noise — second-guessing, catastrophising, replaying things, questioning myself — it’s exhausting. I’d quite like a few hours of silence inside my own head for once.
Although one mate jokingly suggested it would probably be easier to just “fuck throat” instead 😄
For that though… I suspect I’d need to get sufficiently merry over Pride weekend first. And, if I’m honest, I’d also be very interested to get a second opinion on the new girth situation.
Purely for research purposes, obviously.
So yeah. Not magically cured. Still complicated. Still carrying a lot. But maybe — just maybe — moving in the right direction.
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