Are my therapy. They have got me through some tough times, some dark times and times I still can't talk about without it hurting.
They've got me through L's numerous deployments.
They've got me through the stress of moving house. More than once. With another to come within 6 months.
They've got me through anxiety (and continue to do so).
They've got me through depression.
They've got me through a number of disagreements with loved ones.
They've got me through finding a lump in my breast and getting the all clear.
They've got me through my Masters in English Literature.
They've got me through my PGCE, my first year supply teaching, my NQT year and my second year supply teaching.
They've got me through a Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome diagnosis.
They've got me (and again, continue to get me) through the frustration of managing my psoriasis.
They've got me through the death of a friend.
I find it hard to talk, to open up to people and to let them in. I can't deal with being vulnerable. Yet, those items that I so often take for granted, that I pick up, sling in a bag and carry with me have been my therapy, been the way I have got, and continue to get through, so many of the trials life slings my way.
The mileage on them is more than geographical.
