It is excruciatingly hard for me to have to admit to myself and to you all that I am in the midst of yet another dramatic episode.
I have been very blasé about the self-acceptance and self-growth I experienced over the summer.
Many times I have heard myself in a didactic tone deliver my la-di-da opinion about how easy it is to pull oneself together from the abyss that is self-loathing into the marvellous, enlightened nirvana of self-awareness.
Clicking my fingers together I have described to many that exact instant in time when I decided to love myself. "Self-love and self-awareness are the key to happiness. I have never been happier".
In what can be only referred to as the arrogance of youthful inexperience I actually believed that the episodes of intense dissatisfaction and sadness that have assailed me from time to time since I entered into the perilious tide of puberty were well and truly over.
I have been rudely returned to the reality of hormones and tears.
I do not yet have the answer.
To be completely and brutally honest, the truth is I am not yet ready to admit to the answer.
(Some of you who know me might have guessed it)
However writing has certainly helped me gain some perspective on the situation.
So unfortunately there is no lesson to be gained from this post. Perhaps that is in itself a lesson.