Hello there. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? I hope you’ve all had a good Christmas and a very happy New Year, however you celebrated – or didn’t.
You may have noticed that my monthly ‘series’ – Moments – has been absent for the last couple of months. I’ve had to take a bit of a step back from blogging, due to being too overwhelmed. With work, with uni, mental health… oh, and not to mention that my bowels exploded in early December (slightly melodramatic, but go with it). I thought it would be slightly amiss to not do a post rounding up my year, as is customary to do around this time.
I had a read of my New Year post from last year, and it was a little… sad. Very melancholic. And it made me all the more sad that my mental health hasn’t really improved over the last 12 months. I didn’t set myself any goals or resolutions, per se, but reading that post did leave me feeling a little downtrodden that 2017 didn’t turn out as well as I’d have liked.
Over the summer, I enrolled on a little online course called the Superlatively Rude Summer School.
If that sounds familiar, that’s either because 1) you were enrolled on it yourself, 2) you saw me talk about it relentlessly on Twitter, or 3) you’ve seen the short stories I’ve posted written because of that very course.
Millie swallowed down the pill with a big gulp. She could feel the cold water trickle down her chest and land in the pit of her stomach.
“You may experience some nausea and dizziness for the first few weeks,” the doctor had said, “but that will pass. Some people experience a loss of sex drive, but symptoms are different for everyone.”
Even less of a drive than I already have? Lucky me, she had thought to herself. She turned the pill packet over and read the back: take once a day with food. She feebly picked at the sandwich she had made earlier to satiate the numb feeling in her stomach that she supposed was hunger. She barely felt the tingle of mustard on her tongue when she bit into it; nothing tasted quite like it did before.
They saw one another from across the park. Their eyes met briefly before she looked away again, happily chattering on the phone. A sudden shriek of laughter erupted from her lips, and he could have sworn that a flock of nearby birds took off into the grey sky as she did. Her cackle was almost as loud as her natural register as she spoke, and he wondered how someone could be so unaware of her volume control.
A couple of weeks ago, I went to the launch event for Laura Jane Williams’ second book, Ice Cream for Breakfast, and it was… incredible.