There are probably easier ways to deal with your life falling apart than sitting down and writing about every questionable decision you've made since you were eighteen. Therapy, I am doing it. Yoga. Meditation. One of those wee journals where you're supposed to write three things you're grateful for every morning. Instead, apparently, I'm writing a blog. And if I'm going to do this, I'm doing it properly. Not the Facebook version. Not the version people have heard from somebo

So there I was. Back living with Mum and Dad. I had my daughter. I was starting to go out again. Starting to remember that underneath being somebody's mum and somebody's ex, there was still actually a person in there. And that person loved cars. I'd been going to Strathy since I was about fifteen. Cars. Friends. Sunday-night cruises. That was my thing. So once I was back home, I started going again. Sometimes my daughter even came with me. I was still Mum. Always. But I was a

So, where were we? Three kids. Two serious relationships down. A rape I hadn't properly processed. A neighbour who had terrorised me and my family. Enough emotional baggage to fill the boot of a car. And still, somehow, absolutely no fucking clue what was coming next. By this point, my sons' dad and I had admitted our relationship was over. And once again, I was trying to work out what life looked like afterwards. But this time, the next man who came into my life wasn't some