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This follows straight on from the post about structure, so you should maybe read that first.

I feel the need for a nurturing, caring influence shaping my life for me to slot in easier. I used to confide in my mother a lot, but I’ve come to realise that that’s not a safe way to get that care.

I told her about painful personal disagreement I was having with a good friend, and in an uncontrollable and wild fit of motherly protectiveness, she sought out my friend, emotionally roughed her up and made things much worse. My mother loves me too much. She can’t be trusted not to intervene.

It’s hard not telling my mother about my depression. It’s very difficult to hide. I can’t tell her about the phone call, about the glue keeping me in bed. So she can’t help. I’ve got to help myself.

My living quarters reflect the state of my mental health. Untidy to the point of not having any room to stand, double bed half full of dirty clothes, bin overflowing with wrappers of panic bought food I don’t want my housemates to see me eat. Desk untidy and sticky with spilled drinks.

My university attendance is shocking. I never have enough clean clothes dry.

My eating is frantic and half thought through. Cupboards often bare.

Exercise sporadic, depending on availability of tracksuit bottoms and sports bra.

Never any dry towels.

My life would be much nicer and easier if I remedied these things. So here are some small things I’m going to attempt to try and be my own fairy godmother:

– empty the bins in my room

– put all dirty washing in the basket

– remove all the things from my bedroom that don’t need to be in there

– ditto about my bed

– clear and clean my desk

– select clothes to wear the night before and make sure they’re warm and dry

– do a proper food shop and plan meals a couple of days in advance

– dry trainers

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