Monthly Archives: March 2014

In the beginning was the word, and the word was “bugger…”




My name is Badger and I’m a depressive. Permanently and terminally, although unfashionably mono-polar. I’ve been on more anti-depressants than I can remember over the last 15 years, I’ve had counselling, CBT, kicks up the backside, support, love and nothing has made it go away. Infuriating isn’t it? Almost like I’m doing it deliberately…

I’ve been through the various phases of depression throughout my 40-*coff* years on the planet
denial – “I’m just a bit stressed”
grudging acceptance  – “Oh well I’ll take the pills for a while”
pride – “who wants to be normal?”
rage – “why me?! I just want to be normal”
sometimes all in one day. An hour even.

Just recently though there has been some kind of fundamental shift. After a horrendous year involving abandonment, sexual confusion, despair, breakdown and near-suicide something has changed. I’ve reached equilibrium. And now I’m going to kick out the supports under my carefully restored sanity by uprooting myself and my daughter and moving 200 miles away.

This blog will document our journey, emotional and physical, our joys and sorrows and now I sound like an X-Factor contestant. How about “This is the story of a miserable cantankerous mare”

I like badgers, folk music, rock, cats, my family, my friends, nature, cider, books, beaches, classical music, the colour green, chocolate, ham sandwiches, my computer, and some other stuff. Not necessarily in that order.


Meanwhile, back on Planet Wales…


Nearly 4 years after my first post I shall post again.

Somewhere in amongst the horrors of moving 200 miles I forgot I had this. Actually I moved twice, but the second time was only about a mile. Call it 201 miles altogether.

Sooo, what now? The Cub and I are ensconced in a nice little semi with a part-time Bear. (Yeah, I moved from Cheshire to South Wales to end up in a long-distance relationship with someone in Lancashire. Didn’t think that one through). 3 years of job junting in one of the most depressed areas of the UK have resulted in becoming self-employed, making things to sell. It’s not a living but it keeps me slightly more sane than sitting in an office listening to how Wales beat England in the Six Nations. Or not as the case may be … 😉