6 months, 11 days and 13 hours since my last cigarette. £601.59 saved (according to my SmokeFree app). I sometimes have to remind myself of the mini wins. It is what gets me through the day. Especially a day in London.

Increasingly, over the last few years, I have struggled to find solace in my everyday life. After my recent trip to North Devon, I found myself crying on the train on the way to a client day. At the time I wasn’t sure why I was so upset but I quickly realised that it was down to one main factor: happiness.

Or more importantly, my lack of it.

My ultimate struggle has been trying to find happiness in everything that I do. I have fallen victim to the art of ‘escape’; to the false promise of a financially comfortable life; to the desperation of hopeless, no-future relationships; to the mercy that others will give me that emotional power that I need.

My therapy has come in many different forms. Sometimes in the remedy that alcohol is no longer the answer, always in the feeling of sweat falling down my face when I exercise. Sometimes in a simple hug; often in the feeling after a good night’s sleep; always in the sound of laughter shared with friends.

But what I have realised is that no one can enforce their therapy on you.

I came home to my parents’s house today to say goodbye to one of my family members – our dog and my healing buddy Beadie. I cried endlessly when I held her whimpering body on my lap, knowing that it was probably the last time it would happen. I thought back on all the times that I had been the one endlessly resting on her, relying on her, to comfort my tears. To take away my pain. All I wanted was to take away hers and I couldn’t. I’m so sorry my darling girl.

Therapy comes in different forms.

Find it. Embrace it. Appreciate it. Hold onto it.