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Smuggling from the Catacombs

The police lined us up in the pitch black tunnel. Their headlamps flicked around as they gave their orders in French. We were getting searched.

They went up the line searching my friends. First they were patted down, and then their bags were sifted through. Nothing to worry about, as they had nothing to hide.

I was next. I did have something to worry about. Inside my bag, right near the top, were human bones.

Where we're going, we don't need roads

On betternotstop

A year ago yesterday I launched the lifestyle magazine betternotstop and then after seven months took the site and content offline because I didn’t like how it looked, the navigation and how it was evolving. I knew what I wanted it to be and it wasn’t that. I was writing because I felt I had to, not because I enjoyed it which was what my blog had been. I needed to step back, re-assess and find my voice again. Posting via my blog while this process has been happening has been erratic and unpredictable – I’ll try and explain why.

I’ve been embarrassed by my lack of direction and inability to take my own advice, so I decided to take measures to scale back, to change things and to quit projects and give myself more free time. It took a few months to have the guts to quit a well-paid role, something I talked about a while ago but that turned out to be just one step in the process. I wrote a piece on dating, which became one of my most shared and enjoyed posts, this helped build my confidence in being able to connect with people through my writing again. No thanks to you Miss Cowley.

But I got pretty ill and ended up having major surgery necessitating three weeks off work. There was at least six weeks over this period when I really, really shit myself. On the surface I was dealing with carrying on with work and life and going to festivals and generally having fun relatively well. But with my close friends all happened to be having a lot going on in their lives as well I felt unable to really explain to anyone how terrible I felt physically and mentally. I ended up sharing things with people I wouldn’t usually which then made me feel incredibly narcissistic. Which then made me depressed. And for anyone that has suffered from depression you know that is an incredibly hard hole to crawl out from. Yesterday on my Dad’s birthday when I was feeling particularly low and a friend cancelled drinks I came home and rather than drinking or comfort eating or writing I decided to read.

I tried to get myself out of this funk. I read Tad Friends piece ‘Jumpers’ where he speaks to people that have jumped off of the Golden Gate Bridge and lived. They all said something along the same lines ‘I instantly realised that everything in my life that was unfixable was totally fixable – expect for having just jumped.’

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