A good year.

Well, for the next week or two, we’re all going to end up sitting down for a minute at some point or other and deciding for ourselves whether or not we’ve had a good year. Good is, incidentally, a bit of a bland label to slap onto something so complex.

Part of the way my mind has worked for a while has been to stick to the assumption that me and everything I am, do, and think is shit. But I was sitting in the passenger seat of my mum’s car somewhere on the A38 today when I had the realisation that… this year has involved leaps of progress that I am actually quite proud of.

Let’s not get too excited, mind you. I’m still a bit grumpy about living at home, but the me sitting here today has come a long way from the me sitting here last year. While it may be true that the metre sticks I measure my achievements against are different from many other peoples, I am proud all the same.

This year, I quit smoking. For ten years I was a polite addict, smoking away from others and not around children, but all the same my habit was setting me back, at its worst, £2,500 a year. I had absolutely nothing to show for it but an apologetic smile full of yellowed teeth, a morning cough and really smelly clothes.

Quitting was not easy – in fact, it never got easy until after ten months I finally gave in and had a cigarette. It was absolutely, utterly fucking disgusting, and not something I will ever be doing again. I still miss it though, which is so strange. But I am so pleased for myself that I finally quit.

This year, I finally went and saw a bit of the world that I’m so in love with. Going to the USA felt like coming home, even though it was my first visit. Turkey was brilliant, it genuinely felt like we were experiencing a different culture, and I loved that.

This year, I admitted I wasn’t well, and I went to the doctor. I can appreciate how, to many people, this doesn’t seem like a particular feat. To people with depression and other problems with their mental health, it might strike a chord. To people who know me – the idiot who never asks for help with anything, ever, and usually turns it down when offered – it’s probably about fucking time.

Finding the right medication for me has taken a long time. It has been difficult and frustrating, wanting so much for there to be an easy way. I call them my happy pills but that’s not true – happiness is still a battle that’s hard to fight even on the good days. All the pills can really do is help you realise that it’s worth fighting for it.  I know eventually I’ll need a lot of counselling too – and maybe that can be a goal for next year, when I feel up to it!

This year, I went to… the dentist.

Oh yes, six month checkups meant nothing to me. A heavy dose of dental pain went along with a heavy dose of painkillers (and the knowledge that you can safely take 600mg of ibuprofen instead of the 400mg it says on the box was such an enabler).

It’s not to say my teeth were particularly gross, but I was aware that I needed work doing. There were a few cavities I could feel with my tongue, and a few areas where I knew I’d need work done. But then one day, when eating pizza of all fucking things, sitting on Abbi’s sofa… a tooth broke. At the fucking front.

Luckily my mouth is pretty small, so even when I smiled it was barely noticeable unless I was pointing at it and making a sad face. (This happened often). But all the same, the day it broke, I knew it was time to man the fuck up.

I’ve found a brilliant dentist who I get on well with, which puts me at ease. He understands my nervousness, he drugs me up to the eyeballs and he talks to me like I’m a toddler who just did a poo in the potty. (“Well done, you did really well, I’m proud of you!”)

I would recommend him personally to anyone in Bristol, because to get a person like me comfortable enough to attend a dentist on multiple occasions speaks absolute volumes to him personally. So here – and if you call Bristol Clifton, ask for Dr Jason!

Anyway, all in all, my life as of right now isn’t as different as I had hoped it would get. I am still an idiot with a myriad of problems and issues and bullshit. But I am proud of the steps I have taken and the progress I have made, and I know they must seem small to anyone else.

And you know that they’ve been taken in fantastic shoes. Is there anything else that really matters?!