August has always felt different for me. It feels substantial and weighted. A month for significant, enlightening things to happen. Like a doorway is open.

I sit here at my desk in Palm Beach on the Gold Coast and think to myself, I must be making progress.

Why? Well, it’s been a while since my first blog post, but I can remember what I last wrote, and I can’t help but wince a little for that girl and what she was going through.

Maybe it’s because winter is on its last legs or maybe the seasonal shift might mean more than the weather, but I feel something deep within that’s brighter than the grey winter’s day I was used to. I feel the warmth and gold lining of a new day; the sun rising, and I want to meet it.

There’s some ways to go, though, and while I reach my hand out in attempts to grab this feeling, I realise this could be fleeting or maybe I’m stuck with rose coloured glasses after a couple good things have come into my life. Either way, I am content with what I see and I fiind that I trust myself in looking forward.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a realist. And even though pessimism sits on my shoulder like a permanent mark most of the time, I know that it’s now just the right amount to fuel a trek up this mountain of mental health recovery and I tell you what, I can’t wait to breathe that fresh air deep into my lungs and then skip back down the other side to my desk to tell you about it.

As I publish this blog I have to include that Walk of Life by Dire Straits came on my spotify (on shuffle) and I just want to say: Dad, I know you’re here and I love you. Thanks for watching over me.

August, 2020