It's a miracle!!!

Something very fucking strange has happened here boys and girls. It would appear, after 5 weeks of hell and from being at the brink of being ready to section myself.....I am through the tunnel....

I would describe this breakup as being the most horrific of rollercoasters. The sort of rollercoaster designed by saddam Hussein with the sole purpose of crushing a persons fucking soul. It's been grim.

But then something happened. Since Thursday I have been I explicably been smiling, happy and noticing fit dudes again. The punched in the stomach feeling has gone and even if I concentrate on thinking about twat features Chris Brown wannabe, I don't seem to give a shit any more.

Last night I had a random dream that my mate Natalie came in the gym and got me and took me put drinking with Danielle Lloyd (my current idol, kind of like a fellow fucked over hot bird. Except she's doing it with dignity whereas iv had several fairly serious mental breakdowns). And also Nancy off hollyoaks (been watching a lot of it, just roll with me here).

So anyway yeah the 4 of us in his dream went out drinking and then "the mistake" as he is hereafter known popped up and we ended up getting back together.....I swear to god I woke up in a cold sweat because I was terrified it was true and was absolutely relieved to find it was only a dream and I was flying solo in the kingsize.

Do you hear that motherfuckers? I was RELIEVED it wasn't true!

Maybe it's because I have refrained from getting off my tits since bank holiday and perhaps my doom was all party related but I don't think it's that.

Actually. I have a confession to make. I have massively cheated in my recovery process. Wait for it....I went to see a hypnotherapist.

Now before you all start taking the piss might I point out i have had 2 sessions and I am a completely different fucking person. And I mean COMPLETELY different. It's to the point where I am almost forgetting that I was ever heartbroken. And when I try and think about sad things like he cheated on my, he battered me, he criminally damaged my stuff and was In general a fucking arsehole.....it doesn't seem to bother me. I keep waiting for the punched in the stomach feeling to come or the fast heart rate and the breathlessness.....nada. It's like it just fell out of my head.

I fucking hope that is the case because let me tell you the 2 and a half years of emotional and psychological abuse that tit subjected me to is a million times harder to shake off than any of the physical stuff. Bruises fade, compressed (I can't spell the proper word right so I'm gonna go with...) food pipey thing in ya throats heal (even if it did take 4 months and it felt like I was swallowing a piece of Lego during that time) but the damage done to my mind where horrific and i was worried perhaps may be permanent.

But nope I feel fucking great. And now all that's left is to strut my stuff in court 3 weeks tomorrow and then that tit will be a nothing but a vague memory.

What a fucking winner x

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