Yesterday marked 6 years alcohol-free, and approaching 1.5 years weed-free.
This year began with my father passing away on January 1st. His health had been declining for a long time, and in the last half-year my mum had been sharing with me about the strain she was under, along with frustrations she had been carrying about my father for a long time. It was heavy and complicated, and ultimately unsustainable. After he died, our relationship changed in ways that were impossible to ignore.
During the four years I lived back with my parents, there were a few times each year when I felt criticised or singled out — a sense that I was the odd one out, the one who didn’t quite fit. I had felt this way since my teens, when anxiety and depression took root and stayed with me for more than two decades. Returning home in 2021 reopened old fractures. After years of therapy and reflecting on my own experiences, it became clear that moving back had been difficult for my mental health.
In 2022, I bought a van with the intention of living in it full-time. I needed a change of environment, and the van became a project that absorbed much of my time, energy, and resources. Looking back, it was influenced in part by someone I briefly dated who lived in a van. My mum told me that her guides predicted I would end up back with that person, which triggered a very long period of reflection and mourning over a relationship that had been brief. The campervan project also left me with significant debt, even after it was finally sold — fittingly, on the very day my girlfriend and I moved into our new home. The timing felt like two chapters closing at once, and a new one beginning.
There were times my parents expressed frustration with my past struggles, including my mental health and previous substance use. Mum shared that she found some of my experiences difficult to understand or cope with. While it was hard to hear, I’ve tried to see it as her way of processing things, even if it felt painful to be told that my struggles were a burden.
The breaking point came just before I moved out. Mum said some things that were traumatic to witness, and while they may one day be forgivable, they left a lasting impression. There'd been moments when my sharing of personal experiences online was criticised by her, despite my intentions being to reflect and make sense of my life rather than place blame.
Recently, when my partner lost her job, I reached out to update my mum — not asking for anything, just sharing — and received no reply, the silence was deafening. When I saw her days later, she didn’t ask how we were coping. It reminded me of the early weeks after my dad died, when I longed for support.
At this point, I feel that moving out was necessary for my own mental health and wellbeing.
Having our own home has been positive — new energy, space, and freedom. My partner and I are supporting each other through challenges, finding kindness and help in unexpected places. Money has been a constant concern this year, but practical support and overtime work have helped us stay afloat. It hasn’t been easy, and there were a few panic attacks as the weight of the year caught up with me, but we are navigating it together.
Even in the harder periods, there’s a lot to be grateful for:
• My girlfriend is my best friend — someone I can fully be myself around.
• We’re in love, something that has felt confusing at times in the past.
• I’ve discovered strengths I didn’t know I had.
• We live in a lovely home in a beautiful town.
• I work with caring colleagues and supportive managers, helping people who need it.
• I volunteer in my spare time, which has been unexpectedly healing.
• I attend church with my partner when I can, appreciating the warmth, community, and shared energy.
• I’ve created nearly 40 drawings this year — more than I’ve ever made in my life.
• My mediumship path has introduced me to many good people; I joined a new circle and started a healing course.
• I’ve enjoyed cooking this year, and my partner’s cooking has been a joy, giving me gratitude and happiness.
Sobriety has remained strong — I haven’t wanted a drink. I’ve missed weed at times, and have occasionally indulged in tobacco or sugar, but we’re human. Chronic pains have resurfaced, likely connected to prolonged stress, but I’m addressing them as best I can.
Spiritually, my path feels paused — not lost, just taking a breath. Most of my energy is focused on supporting those close to me and remembering to care for myself. I’m grateful for those around me, and relieved to have closed the chapters of the campervan and of living at home. Though the campervan debt will take years to clear, I’m thankful that it went to a loving new home.
This year has reminded me of the quiet truth of “less is more.”
I’ve reached out to my GP for longer-term therapy and counselling, as CBT didn’t suit me. The healing course facilitator is also a therapist, and once we're financially able to do so, I’ll pursue further therapy and spiritual work with her.
I look forward to what next year holds for my partner and me. Even though it has at times felt like everything was falling apart, there has always been a way through. Every time the floor seemed to give way, something steadier was forming beneath it.
Ed
This year began with my father passing away on January 1st. His health had been declining for a long time, and in the last half-year my mum had been sharing with me about the strain she was under, along with frustrations she had been carrying about my father for a long time. It was heavy and complicated, and ultimately unsustainable. After he died, our relationship changed in ways that were impossible to ignore.
During the four years I lived back with my parents, there were a few times each year when I felt criticised or singled out — a sense that I was the odd one out, the one who didn’t quite fit. I had felt this way since my teens, when anxiety and depression took root and stayed with me for more than two decades. Returning home in 2021 reopened old fractures. After years of therapy and reflecting on my own experiences, it became clear that moving back had been difficult for my mental health.
In 2022, I bought a van with the intention of living in it full-time. I needed a change of environment, and the van became a project that absorbed much of my time, energy, and resources. Looking back, it was influenced in part by someone I briefly dated who lived in a van. My mum told me that her guides predicted I would end up back with that person, which triggered a very long period of reflection and mourning over a relationship that had been brief. The campervan project also left me with significant debt, even after it was finally sold — fittingly, on the very day my girlfriend and I moved into our new home. The timing felt like two chapters closing at once, and a new one beginning.
There were times my parents expressed frustration with my past struggles, including my mental health and previous substance use. Mum shared that she found some of my experiences difficult to understand or cope with. While it was hard to hear, I’ve tried to see it as her way of processing things, even if it felt painful to be told that my struggles were a burden.
The breaking point came just before I moved out. Mum said some things that were traumatic to witness, and while they may one day be forgivable, they left a lasting impression. There'd been moments when my sharing of personal experiences online was criticised by her, despite my intentions being to reflect and make sense of my life rather than place blame.
Recently, when my partner lost her job, I reached out to update my mum — not asking for anything, just sharing — and received no reply, the silence was deafening. When I saw her days later, she didn’t ask how we were coping. It reminded me of the early weeks after my dad died, when I longed for support.
At this point, I feel that moving out was necessary for my own mental health and wellbeing.
Having our own home has been positive — new energy, space, and freedom. My partner and I are supporting each other through challenges, finding kindness and help in unexpected places. Money has been a constant concern this year, but practical support and overtime work have helped us stay afloat. It hasn’t been easy, and there were a few panic attacks as the weight of the year caught up with me, but we are navigating it together.
Even in the harder periods, there’s a lot to be grateful for:
• My girlfriend is my best friend — someone I can fully be myself around.
• We’re in love, something that has felt confusing at times in the past.
• I’ve discovered strengths I didn’t know I had.
• We live in a lovely home in a beautiful town.
• I work with caring colleagues and supportive managers, helping people who need it.
• I volunteer in my spare time, which has been unexpectedly healing.
• I attend church with my partner when I can, appreciating the warmth, community, and shared energy.
• I’ve created nearly 40 drawings this year — more than I’ve ever made in my life.
• My mediumship path has introduced me to many good people; I joined a new circle and started a healing course.
• I’ve enjoyed cooking this year, and my partner’s cooking has been a joy, giving me gratitude and happiness.
Sobriety has remained strong — I haven’t wanted a drink. I’ve missed weed at times, and have occasionally indulged in tobacco or sugar, but we’re human. Chronic pains have resurfaced, likely connected to prolonged stress, but I’m addressing them as best I can.
Spiritually, my path feels paused — not lost, just taking a breath. Most of my energy is focused on supporting those close to me and remembering to care for myself. I’m grateful for those around me, and relieved to have closed the chapters of the campervan and of living at home. Though the campervan debt will take years to clear, I’m thankful that it went to a loving new home.
This year has reminded me of the quiet truth of “less is more.”
I’ve reached out to my GP for longer-term therapy and counselling, as CBT didn’t suit me. The healing course facilitator is also a therapist, and once we're financially able to do so, I’ll pursue further therapy and spiritual work with her.
I look forward to what next year holds for my partner and me. Even though it has at times felt like everything was falling apart, there has always been a way through. Every time the floor seemed to give way, something steadier was forming beneath it.
Ed
