How I love to laugh

“If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane.”

~ Robert Frost



I notice I’m laughing a lot, lately. Loud, belly laughter, that rumbles and ripples and bounces off the walls. Sometimes it’s about random shit, other times it’s about things that are ‘actually funny’.

I notice how much I love making other people laugh. I love, love, love, how humour ripples. I love how it’s contagious.

And I love how it makes me feel. That sense of pride and achievement about making someone chuckle is one of my favourite feelings. I feel warm inside and happy when it happens. And I love myself, when I do.

Just like I love myself when I make myself laugh, too. In fact, that’s one of my most favourite feelings, and one that differs from all the rest, because the warmth that floods my chest is warmth just for myself.

Not warmth for anyone else, but warmth for myself. In those moments I burst out laughing at my actions or my thoughts, or consequences of something I’ve been doing (or when there’s been no apparent connection and it’s seemingly just random, whatever it is that happens, that triggers laughter) I feel such fondness and appreciation for myself.

I feel grateful that I’ve got myself, and I feel grateful that I’m known to myself…that I get to see me as well as just feel me.

That, along with the video below, is a good reason to laugh.


A friendly universe. And cheese.

“I think the most important question facing humanity is, ‘Is the universe a friendly place?’ This is the first and most basic question all people must answer for themselves.

“For if we decide that the universe is an unfriendly place, then we will use our technology, our scientific discoveries and our natural resources to achieve safety and power by creating bigger walls to keep out the unfriendliness and bigger weapons to destroy all that which is unfriendly and I believe that we are getting to a place where technology is powerful enough that we may either completely isolate or destroy ourselves as well in this process.
“If we decide that the universe is neither friendly nor unfriendly and that God is essentially ‘playing dice with the universe’, then we are simply victims to the random toss of the dice and our lives have no real purpose or meaning.
“But if we decide that the universe is a friendly place, then we will use our technology, our scientific discoveries and our natural resources to create tools and models for understanding that universe. Because power and safety will come through understanding its workings and its motives.”
“God does not play dice with the universe,”
–Albert Einstein
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I suddenly read the phrase “a friendly universe” yesterday, when scouring the internet for interesting schizz, and then today I found this piece above, and it hit me flat in the face – I literally had to think about whether or not the universe is friendly. Like, properly sit there and consider it…and then I realised that with all the fucking shit that’s been happening lately, I feel in a bubble of protection from all things outside myself. Sometimes I come out of this and connect with ‘the bigger picture’ – in whatever way that might be – but a lot of the rest of the time at the moment, I haven’t really given The Universe a proper faithful focus that she’s on my side because it has NOT felt like it (but that isn’t to say she isn’t. At. All). I’ve felt so on a roll of things going shit, that I just kinda gave up looking outside of this and thinking that maybe actually the universe is faithfully on my side. She’s the cheerleader of my inner team.

Lately I’ve been feeling like a stranger in my own body and mind – SO. Freakin. Much. (Like so much it’s horrible.) And this was another of those moments… I know the universe is on my side, I know that she’s friendly, I have spent years reading and discovering all of this, but I’d just forgotten it. And have to re-learn it again. Or maybe, I just reached a new level of learning…I think this is what life is, after all? A constant research project. Every day is a day at school. And every day you are learning more. Every day there is something new, and something new that you need. I notice that I get to grips with one thing and then it’s done, finished, over and I need to learn a new something to get me through the next time new place where I need to discover a new angle of something that I hadn’t got to before.

I feel like when things are feeling so mightily out of your control, so beyond shit you never would have imagined it to be this way, or just when your life is in a place that “it was NOT supposed to be”, thinking the universe is a friendly place is like trying to eat cheese when you’re lactose intolerant. It just doesn’t fucking work, and is the LAST thing you want to do. Or, sometimes it’s the thing you CRAVE to be able to do but know what’ll come when you do…a sense of safety. And for those with PTSD (and lots of other people too), feeling safe is like one of the most insane concepts, ever. This is the thing, see…I have been afraid to connect. I’ve been afraid to think she’s friendly and to really trust she’s looking out for me. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it, but the idea of stepping out of myself and trusting in something bigger just freaked the fuck out of me because I tried that and then all this shit happened, so surely it doesn’t work, right? (Wrong…I think). My comfort zone, when things are shitty, is to believe the ball is in my court and I ain’t handing the bat over to anyone else, thank you. Especially not The Universe (fucking hippies) 😉

Speaking of cheese, I actually did this once – ate cheese despite being lactose intolerant. I sat in my car, fresh out of the supermarket (I hadn’t even made it out of the car park). That day I had decided that my food intolerances were ‘all in my head’, so I went in and bought a door stop of Brie. I sat there and ate THE WHOLE THING. (Side note – most people, with lactose sensitivities or not, would get sick from eating an entire triangle of brie but that’s beside the point.) Surprisingly enough, it turns out my lactose sensitivity wasn’t all in my head – it was in my body. And my body certainly had something to say about what went down. I haven’t eaten brie since.

The moral of this story is not to eat cheese when you’re intolerant to it, but instead to contemplate other ways of thinking when you notice you’ve accidentally – or purposefully – taken up new roads of thinking. For protection, or out of fear or disbelief about the fact things could be any different. It baffles me how I am constantly, constantly, evolving and discovering new things or new way of doing things or thinking about things, that I never knew before.

It baffles me how much I have to learn about life. Sometimes it overwhelms and I just want to hide underneath my duvet, but most of the time, it excites. Life is just like one mega bender of a dissertation project.

Healing. “What a load of old shit.”

This evening I had a wave of my ‘what the fuck am I doing…’ within my tsunami of healing that has been happening the last few days. Don’t even get me started. Now that it’s easing, I think I actually visited hell, made a camp and kipped there. Not that I could sleep. It was too hot and smelly.

Anyways, in this little large dump of self doubt and loathing of the process, I realised it was my inner hipster and my inner teen that had something to say about this. They are wondering what the FUCK I’m doing – where my once cool self went. Why I now just wanna hang out with self absorbed losers, and how I now see them as NOT that and I actually see them as people on a journey. People just like me. People that I once used to run a freakin’ mile from, are now people that I wanna call up at 11pm and say – fuck life is overwhelming. I’m not wanting to call up, hang out, get to know all the people I’ve felt this way about – fuck no. Tie dye hippies, yoghurt weaving spiritual nuts, are still a million miles off my To Befriend list (insert what-a-hippy-childhood-does-to-you here). But I’m talking people in therapy. People on the rollercoaster of self discovery. People delving into themselves and their pain, and getting to know it. Sharing it. Hating it. Freaking out about it. Running a mile from it, only to then turn round and run back and learn to love it.

These people I used to think were self obsessed losers and selfish twats. Come hang out with the cool kids. Stop hanging out with your past and the demons or fuckwits from it. Lets just go surfing, you big therapy loving loser. Let’s look at the bigger problems in the world and stop festering around in your own shit. There are way more important things in life and people, trees, animals, that need your attention – not yourself.

But now, I’m one of them. And despite the pain and the turmoil, I could not imagine life in any other way. It just feels like the logical way of living. Why the hell would you NOT want to do this for yourself? Why the hell would you not want to heal?

Well, my hipster and teen certainly have something to say about ‘why not’. These are the two cartoons I did:

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And it reminded me of my favourite old person on TV:

Super moon? Super sunset.

A funny thing happened the other day. It was the ‘super moon’ and I completely forgot. I do this quite often…I know that something significant, beautiful, or just kinda cool is happening and write it in my mental calendar, with the intention of watching it, taking time out to honour it, or whatever else I fancy. Take the summer solstice for example – I was gonna do something nice with friends – a pint and a fire, but instead I ended up having a bath, and drawing cartoons under candlelight whilst in it, and going to bed. This was fine by me. But I am increasingly feeling the importance of overcoming a bit of my rebellion-from-my-hippy-roots, and honouring these kind of occasions or moments in the year. It’s something about connecting to the Earth and natures calendar – the one calendar we don’t have any control over, and I love this.

So anyways, the eve of the super moon – Sunday – I went for a stroll to my favourite hill to catch some last of the day, sunset rays. There were a bunch of people there which isn’t normally the case. There’s normally 3, max. Confused, but heartened because I didn’t fancy being on my own, I sat down on and nested in the grass. There were a couple of ladies just stood on the hill looking across the city, for AGES and all I could think was “Weirdos. What are you looking at? Why don’t you sit down?” More people wandered up slowly over the next hour, and perched themselves in various places, until there were 15 or so. Again, all looking the opposite direction to the sunset. Most of them were loved up couples out for their evening stroll, so I looked the other way for this reason but also because the sunset was beautiful. I lay on my back in the grass for ages, and then wandered on my way, wondering whether this fave place of mine that usually just has a scattering of people, is maybe a Sunday evening hot-spot before the working week begins, I just didn’t know it.



I woke up the next morning and suddenly realised this isn’t the case – I was the weirdo because I was looking the direct opposite direction to everyone else, missing the flippin super moon i had noted in my mental calendar. It turns out those bunch of ‘weirdos’ on the hill that night weren’t weirdos, they were just way more ‘on it’ than I was. Well whatevs. I got a pretty sunset and a cuddle from the grass. In 1,487,979 years when the super moon comes back round again, I’ll hang out with him then.

Next time, I might just take a moment to actually check out what people are looking at, rather than just thinking they are weirdos.

Yo’ own business

I love looking on my blog for the google searches that have brought people there. It always warms the cockles of my heart to know that my words have helped in some way. Or if they haven’t actually helped, then they’ve at least been found! Sometimes my heart breaks a little to read the searches that all link in with the painful shitty topics I speak about on here, like the “better off alone – feeling shame after my overdose” search that I found the other day. I am always always touched and honoured that it takes people to the pieces I write though, and just gives me more

Today though, one of the searches made me laugh out loud:

“My friend says she has cfs but she’s just lazy”

To which the Googler then found this post.

This search just cracked me up (in a whole hearted way). In a way there are too many words that would just take away from the point I was sharing it, because in a way, the search itself is enough. It sums up one entire chunk of the chronic fatigue experience. And it summarises the relationship and the judgements I have always bloody had on myself, and I have found other people to have too, with cfs. I’d forgotten about this for a bit so I think that’s why I can just feel a whole load of humour around this, because let’s face it – it’s pretty fucking funny, the whole saga of chronic fatigue. The way that we can just look so super healthy and actually feel like we’re dying inside. Heartbreakingly hilarious.

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Chronic fatigue isn’t the headlines news of my days at the moment (THAT’S AMAZING!) like it has been for these last long months. The fatigue I’m experiencing is mostly all EMDR related at the moment, with just a coating of the chronic fatigue, and so any judgement I used to have about my supposed ‘laziness’ is completely kicked out of the shop and instead it’s filled with shelves of compassion and space and allowing for it to be here. And frustration, but that’s just a given. So when I read this, it just made me smile as I remember all the complex shit chronic fatigue brings, but also it made me smile at just how much we don’t understand about people’s situations. How this world is so fucking confusing and hilarious because of that. Yeah it can be so painful, but it does always make me laugh that we literally have no clue what’s going on for other people yet we can get so wrapped up in our own judgements, theories, opinions, worries, blah blah blah. Even if we’re wrapping ourselves up in whatever it is, with the aim of helping, it still is just none of our freakin’ business. Our business is our business and the rest is everyone else’s.

Even if this persons friend is lazy, that’s her business. I’m guessing she’s not, she’s got chronic fatigue, but even if she was, she still would deserve love and friendship. And if this person doesn’t wanna give it to her, then that’s cool – that bit of her friends business clearly doesn’t work for her. And that’s normal too – none of us can be into everyone else’s business, just like its impossible (or its a miracle) if we walk into a shop and like EVERY SINGLE item of clothing.

The way I’m using the word business, is the way Byron Katie uses it. That woman did my bloody NUT in, but I did like the way she spoke about ‘business’, yo.

This search fills my face with a smile and fills my heart with warmth, and it fills my head with a buzz of words I wanna say. But I’ll leave it at that because I have a fondness to rambling.

The mind-body connection

The mind-body connection is a baffling thing and can seem like a totally unreachable and alien thing too. But it can be found, it just takes practise, like the other wholesome bits of life do.

For me the talk of a mind-body connection, or more like disconnection, came when I hit the pillow with Chronic Fatigue. For years I just didn’t get it…I knew I needed to and I desperately tried to, and then other times fucked it off because I just couldn’t work out how. But this year, with all the  knuckling down and practising mindfulness, the yoga, and all the healing the trauma that shut-off my connection in the first place, I can safely say my mind-body connection is rocking. And slowly I can see my chronic fatigue easing too.

This is my cartoon take on it.


Moving for real this time

I’m moving house this week and to say I’m stressed is an under statement. I actually feel like I am going to physically explode…y’know those cartoons that you see of people stressed, with steam streaming out of their ears? Well, thass me.

I am so over moving house. So. Over. I am so bored of not having steady feet beneath me. I want to say it’s just been this last year that this has been the case, but it isn’t/it hasn’t. Since the age of 18 I have never lived somewhere longer than 8 months…I have stayed in the same place for longer than this but moved rooms/homes. Initially it was travelling, then it was university, and then it was being an unintentional kinda nomad with my ex-boyfriend. And then I was just being a bit of a nomad with myself. Not initially, sometimes initially, but most of the time it just kinda happened that way. I remember when I was a teenager I said that I wanted to live the life where I spent six months in one country, in one season, and then six months in another, in a different season…i.e. snowboarding one season and surfing the next. I thought I strayed far from this path when I hit university and found my dream. I thought that ponder/dream was just that…but now I realise that my life, the last few years, has kinda happened that way. Except I’ve spent six months here, six months there – sometimes in the UK, sometimes not.

I have deliberated and DELIBERATED about moving to where I’m moving to. I have been house hunting for about a month and checked out various places that I have ended up being so relieved I have said no to. I said yes to one place and then listened to my instinct and ended up saying no. I then found this little place I’m moving to and I have literally only just definitely decided this evening. I have still been looking at other places but this evening looked at another and realised I think I am doing the right thing. Or at least I am choosing the best option out of the options at my fingertips right now.


Fuck I’ve noticed a lot throughout this whole process. I’ve noticed my patterns, I’ve noticed my fears, I’ve noticed what I can handle, I’ve noticed what I can’t all at once, I’ve noticed the deep running fuck-ups my mum has left behind in me, I’ve noticed I’m really getting to grips with boundaries, I’ve noticed my ‘commitment issues’, I’ve noticed my fear of settling down and feeling stuck. But the main thing I’ve noticed is that I really need a home. A HOME.

It is weird how much this move is affecting me. But in a way, it’s really not. Of all the years, this has been the one that I have needed a wholesome healthy stable base the most…yet I have had quite the opposite. Until now that is. But this place I have stayed in the last five months, I always knew would come to an end because the house is being sold…it was only a matter of when.

This move feels like it’s happening for real this time. Slowly, the last two moves I begun to be phased by them. I could see I was rocked by the fact I was moving, but never in this way. It’s almost like I’ve been working my way towards really truly feeling like you’ve hit base, and the thought of upheaval just brings you out in hives. Well, if I had hives I would have them now.

I used to look at friends moving house and wonder how they were so stressed…I never really ‘got it’. Well, now I do. And I’m not even moving a whole house – I’m just moving me and my room, and the rest of the shit scattered about the place. In a sense though, that is a house. It’s just I don’t own the other shit that is no doubt going to gather over the next few years.

I don’t know how the next few days are going to happen but I know they will – they always do. I feel like I’m going to explode but all I keep thinking is just to hold on tight to the wave, and ride it, and hope that others will jump on with their surfboards (and bedroom furniture and cars) too. The room is unfurnished which is a bit of a bitch, but also kinda exciting because it means I get to make it mine, fo’ real. I bought a mattress that will be being delivered on Wednesday, to the new place. I have a wardrobe that somehow I will collect from my friends, and then the rest will have to come over the week. Right now all I can muster up is the beans to co-ordinate this last day or two, and then the next two. Right now a chest of drawers and a writing desk are way off my mind, but I know the minute I set foot in my room with bags and boxes all around I’ll dream of marrying Ikea.

I feel like my life is changing. I feel like this move is showing me so. I feel like I chose this place over the other options because I want to give this life a go – the cosy, tidy, cute, homely, life a go. I want to try leaving the student living life behind. And of all the times I need it, it couldn’t be more so now. I feel like this move is setting up the pathway for my future to come. It’s taking guts, and balls, and navigating deep running kick ass fears, but I just feel like I deserve it.

Let’s hope I don’t explode, the hives stay at bay, my body chills the fuck out a bit, I manage to get all the help I need, and I find some cute-as furniture to hang out with me. Oh, and did I mention I hadn’t even started packing? Nah.