The last month has weighed upon me more heavily than those that have preceded it. At times, the weight has prevented me from forming coherent thoughts. I’ve spent a month absorbed in the smaller things that have helped me survive.

The World Cup has been one of them. I’ve tried to watch as many games as possible, which has inevitably affected my sleep because of the time difference. But help it did. Losing myself in the football, the passion, the extra time and the penalty shootouts has given me somewhere else to be for a while. Sometimes we need that one simple thing to meet us where we are, and without a doubt, football has done exactly that.

Now there are only four matches left, not least because England are through to the semi finals. And a game against Argentina awaits. A fixture that holds so many memories and agonies for any England fan. The Hand of God, which I remember only vaguely because I was so young. Then the 1998 World Cup. I was seventeen and at my school leavers’ night. I left the venue our year had booked and went into the attached pub to watch the match instead. I remember being in high spirits from the alcohol I had consumed and desperately hoping England would make it through.

So Wednesday will undoubtedly bring back some very vivid feelings. I’m nervous, excited and, above all, hopeful.

Watching the teams battle for their place in the semi finals has made me quite reflective.

For me, feeling is everything. A moment in time could have happened days, weeks, months or even years ago. If the weather is the same, or something stirs that memory, what returns isn’t the event itself. It’s the feeling. That is what drives me. It seeps through every part of who I am. It is how I judge whether something was good, bad or somewhere in between. It isn’t the memory that comes back first. It is how I felt. And when something similar happens, that old feeling rises again and places itself firmly in the present.

This past month, as I said, has been particularly difficult. I have undergone two separate psychiatric assessments. The mental health team wanted a more experienced clinician to assess me and determine the most effective treatment plan. I was then referred for a psychology assessment.

Last week I found out that the Community Treatment Team will be taking me on. They are going to allocate me a worker, and we will begin formulation work and stabilisation before any trauma therapy can start. They want me to be in the right place mentally before revisiting the experiences that have shaped so much of my life. It makes sense. Trauma therapy is hard enough without trying to navigate it when everything else still feels unstable.

My key worker at the alcohol treatment centre has been off sick for over a month, so my detox has had to wait. That uncertainty has had a huge impact on my anxiety and left me feeling quite hopeless at times.

I don’t want to drink anymore. But sadly, I’m alcohol dependent, and whilst I stupidly tried to stop cold turkey, I had to make the difficult decision not to continue trying alone and instead wait for specialist help. The sweating, the shaking, the flu like symptoms and the sickness all mounted until I became very ill. It’s frightening when all you want to do is stop drinking and become sober, but your body has other ideas. So now I have to be patient. I have to wait for the safest option.

Because I have felt stuck at times, my writing has inevitably taken a firm back seat. That is something I now need to push through because losing my motivation for something I love would affect me far more than I’m willing to allow.

I have, however, continued planning and writing my fictional book series, and I’m having so much fun, and equal amounts of stress, creating the characters, the scenery and the story. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Writing a book is one of the most challenging things I have ever attempted. It has already given me more than a few sleepless nights.

Yet Cali Thornton, my protagonist, has completely drawn me in. My mind constantly drifts towards her story, her life and the case she finds herself investigating. A story set in the heart of Newcastle, a place I know so well. It has the atmosphere, the authenticity and, most importantly, the feeling of home.

When my own days become difficult, I turn to Cali. She leads me away from the darkest parts of my own world and into one built entirely from imagination and possibility. A whole new world. One I cannot wait to share with everyone.