Sometimes you cannot just put a brave face on it

My trauma isn’t only about what happened. It’s also about what I genuinely believed could happen, and the lasting impact that belief left.

180 miles today. Catheter attached. Life has changed what I measure, but I’m still moving forward. Different measurements, same George

Neural pathways feel like signals crossing lanes too fast, thoughts colliding, emotions overloaded, everything moving without waiting its turn.

Scans, catheters, sleepless nights, uncertainty and exhaustion. Not the week I wanted, but I am still here today.

Everything is measured now: sleep, pain, urine, time, control. Life narrowed to tubes, drainage, exhaustion, and quiet adjustment.
A rapid collapse into scans, catheterisation, exhaustion, fear, and uncertainty — while still trying to adapt, function, and endure daily life.
Depression, pain and exhaustion pulled me away from Aimless. I haven’t disappeared completely. I’ve simply been struggling to exist.
The narrator experiences relentless, burdensome existence each morning, yearning for peace and an escape from life’s monotonous obligations.

A really bad day brings negativity on a huge scale. No joy in posting but an important record

A repetitive expression of the desire to distance oneself from various forms of travel and connection.

I’m from the UK — living with pain and mental illness, sharing my journals and fragments to show what it really looks like to keep going.