- I have a rescue dog with some abandonment issues that makes her howl like she's being molested whenever she's left alone and you wouldn't believe the crap I have to listen to and the accusations I've had to listen to because of this.

Most times, though, people come and ask or tell me very nicely and politely why or that my dog is freaking out.

Last week, a deranged lunatic kicked a door in and threatened my husband and I in front of our terrified children and a room full of my fellow choir singers because we were the worst kind of animal abusers he'd ever-ever-ever experienced.

You may well remember another deranged man reported us to the authorities with a similar complaint.

My point is, it's all about the aproach. You know what I mean? It's not like I don't know my dog has issues, but I know and can explain why, but if ppl are just there to call me names, I'm not going to listen.

Btw, we've had a professional dog therapist help us with her and she's a lot better, but obivously still not "normal."

But today, I'm oficially and for the first time since the age of about 9 Overweight rather than some degree of Obese. I have lost in total 86.4 lbs or 39.2 kilo.

This was supposed to feel great. And it does. But I don't.

The smear came back normal. That's good news. Or should be. But it isn't, because it means little when the coloscopy showed "moderate to severe" abnormal cells. So, the op is booked for November 5th.

I think I know where the problem lies. I'm without foundation, and sometimes, the earth trembles and so, my house does too. My stability is always compromised and I am vulnerable.

The consequense - the effect - I'm doubting myself. In everything. Even what I think is right I turn and turn and turn until I no longer know which way is up.

When something unreasonable occurs, I recognise it as unreasonable (cue incident with man kicking in the door), but quickly and without effort I find myself questioning my conclusion that this is not a reflection on me, that it's not something wrong I've done or something wrong with me.

And I do that with everything. I don't know if what I say or think is "right" - if it's me. It's that's how I'm supposed to think or feel to be me.

I know all the theory behind it. I know the kind of childhood that "creates" children with a vague and vulnerable sense of self. And I know I fit the template of such a child. I know all that. But it's rather pointless to know which shovel dug the hole if you don't know how to get up.

But I'm working on it.