This is my life.

In two weeks I'm going to a celebration of life for my beloved friend Soraya. It's timed around her birthday when she would have been 50. A milestone birthday. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She was supposed to be here.

I think about Soraya a lot. The other day I was driving along and I just felt a wave of grief wash over me. I wanted to shout at Soraya for not being here when I need her. In fact I did shout and cried and let the feelings overwhelm me. When I see a facebook memory that she commented on and it makes my heart stop for a moment. this is when I miss her the most. When I see her words and I can hear her voice in my head. I also think about her now because we were birthday buddies. Gemini babies, chatterboxes, loud laughers and proud older mums.

Why is it we only celebrate a person's life when they have died ? Is it only celebrities who get to have a 'this is your life' moment ? Soraya should have been here to celebrate her 50th and (selfishly) mine too. Milestones matter.

When I was celebrating my 30th I had left my first marriage, I was newly single, surrounded by friends and rocking a shorter hairstyle and a slimmer figure. It took a long time to get over that break up, but my family and friends did everything to get me back on my feet.

For my 40th I was significantly bigger as I was expecting Brown Bear. I had a party with family and friends and celebrated this much longed for pregnancy as well as my actual birthday. It was one of the happiest times of my life carrying Brown Bear.

I've talked a lot about how I will be 50 next year and how I want to do something to mark the half century. I haven't decided what that will be yet. However, I do know that for the first time in almost 15 years I will be single, with two fantastic sons and (all being well) an elderly cat. This wasn't what I expected for my next milestone birthday. However, it is where I am.

The thing is, I know is I can do this. Being single I mean.  It felt like that was my entire life until the age of 27. I didn't go out with anyone in school or university and when I was working in London for so many years I never met anyone and formed a relationship. However, in my single years I bought my own flat, made friends with some awesome people, fell in love with making radio shows, discovered a passion for live music, learned to scuba dive and ski, volunteered and worked. Oh don't get me wrong I wanted to be in a relationship. I wanted to share my life with someone I loved and who loved me. While I was looking for this I got on with making a life for me.

Now I am here again, but this time I have Brown and Blue Bear and they truly are the loves of my life (don't tell Neo !) Being their Mum makes me incredibly proud. With this awesome twosome by my side I know I can do this. My friends are reminding me on a daily basis that I can overcome anything and have the determination to achieve the impossible. So here is my own little self-indulgent "This is your life" tribute to me: 

• I was told it was unlikely I'd be able to have a baby, but I didn't let it stop me. Brown Bear is the living proof of my belief in miracles.   

• I grew and fed a baby from my actual body. Yes this body that I often look at with disappointment and shame. I carried this brilliant boy and nearly died giving birth to him, but we made it. 

• The day I saw a photo of Blue Bear I knew he would be my son. It was meant to be and so it was.  My baby boy belongs in this family and the minute I saw his beautiful face there was nothing I wasn't going to do to make that happen. 

• When Soraya died I wanted to do something big in her memory. Cutting off all my hair was something that was huge for me. Then I also trained to run a half marathon. Me, the fat kid who was always picked last. And I did it !! 

• When someone I love was in pain I stood in the rain to talk him out of making a terrible mistake. I wanted him to pick me, but I helped him make it work in his relationship. I stand by that. I know in that moment I was putting his needs before my own and I would do it again. 

• My lovely friend was in hospital and I went to see her with a 3 month old Brown Bear in tow to cheer her up. I took shampoo and conditioner with me to wash her hair because I know how dehumanising having greasy hair can be. It was a teeny thing, but she still reminds me how much it meant to her. 

• My son wanted to give up on his first (and last) junior park run. Halfway round he was almost in tears and I said, "shall we hold hands and do this together ? It doesn't matter how fast - let's finish together." We did and the look of pride on his face as he ran over the finish line stays with me to this day. 

• Blue Bear asked me the other day if I had baby photos of him. I showed him some on my phone - including his birth mum just in shot holding him. He smiled at me and asked if I would print the photos so he can put them on the wall by his bed. Yes baby boy, of course I will. 

Of all the things I've done in my life I can honestly say that being a mum is the one that I am most proud of. I don't always get it right - in fact I often think I'm getting everything wrong. I am, however, always trying my best for my boys. They are my world and all that matters to me. I know that when I hear them laughing and having fun my heart skips a beat.

That is what I live for.

I've got this.

You know you make me want to shout...

Hubbie sent me a message reminding me of all the things I'd done that made him laugh this week. Then yesterday we co-presented a radio show - live. We chatted, laughed and generally enjoyed each other's company. It reminded me that despite all the dramas and tension that comes with being married and parenting and the general hustle and bustle of life, we are friends. Proper make you laugh until you wet yourself (just me ?) friends. 

Last night we went to a gig. An incredible gig. The front man of the band is shouty, anarchic and hilarious. It was in a tiny venue in Hubbie's hometown and we had a few hours of childfree proper let-yourself-go fun together. At one point we were all crouched on the floor of the venue with the lead singer (well not me, you know not with these knees !) and he was regaling us all with a story. He had us all in the palm of his hand as he was playing up the fact that he was from a local town and his brother was in the crowd. I can honestly say it was a brilliant night. 

Sometimes I wonder what people who are friends with someone like that think of them. I mean he can enthralling a room full of fans, but what's he like as a mate ? Is he that one who can sometimes be a bit much if you see him often ? You know that friend who always talks a good game and is charming and fun and the life of the party ? The one who makes you laugh until your face hurts and your sides ache and it feels like the moment should never end ? The same person reminds you of all the times you’ve been ridiculous and you have shared jokes and embarrassments from your years of friendship. The one you would drop everything to see ? 

Do you find (as I do) that they are also the one who will cancel at short notice with little or no explanation. So often that now you don’t even expect them to turn up so you always pencil things in as there is a more than 50% chance they just won’t turn up. In fact it’s so unlikely they will be there that you are tempted to be sarcastic and say, “Oh you’re looking forward to it are you ? Like I was when we made that arrangement last time that you cancelled at the last minute ?” They're the one who is the first to say, "I’ll do it – count me in - sounds fun." When you asked if they wanted to take part in an event and you kept putting off signing up just in case - well you know what they're like. But you don't want to be unfair. Then the friend gets on your case, “I’ve signed up for it – have you ?” and you do only to find out that they can’t make it after all and you're left to do it alone. Not for the first time.

Or the time you were supposed to go to a gig or a show and you didn't hear back from them for ages and when you finally got a reply it was, "Oh yeah I can't make it now. I've got something on," All casual like they didn't just make other plans and leave you in the lurch. Well at least you got a response that time, Not like when they just didn't respond and you were left waiting outside the venue calling to see if they were still coming. Eventually realising that it wasn't going to happen and being so worried and upset that you just went home.

The friendship looks so very different from the two sides. The friend is all about outcomes, “We saw each other in the end didn’t we ? That was fun.” And you’re more about the process which was more painful than it needed to be. You have to do certain things in order to meet, arrange childcare, sort out transport / travel and decide how is safest to get home if it’s going to be late. The friend is non-committal right to the last. You say, “let me know what you want to do,” and they don’t respond - being a free spirit and all that. Then you get a text message the night before - or the morning you’re supposed to meet - saying, “so you still on for tomorrow / today ?” You want to yell, “of course I am !! We agreed this. It’s you I’m waiting on. I am already committed.” You don’t say any of that. You politely agree that you will be there. Then panic that this might be like that time when they just didn’t turn up. Or the time they did, but stormed off because you had become so anxious in the build up to meeting that you said something to them. Or maybe they will just cancel at the last minute again and make it your fault for being surly. You want to say, “Why is it ok for you to be selfish and thoughtless, but unfair of me to call you on it ? How am I the bad guy here ?” Of course you don’t.

Friends are the family we choose. The ones who we love even though we don’t have to. Just like family though there will come a time when we notice how uneven it is. How the effort expended outweighs the reward. How the much mooted get-together becomes soured by the messing about, the inability to value your time or feelings. The realisation that to this friend you are not really worthy of respect. This fuels anxiety. It makes being a friend so difficult. You wouldn’t do this to someone you care about. They are not you though.

Ok so when they are suffering you go to them and are 'present,' because that is your way of supporting. When you want a hug or need the same support they take themselves away and give you space. It's not how you would do it and it's not what you want, but you are not them. That doesn't make them wrong, any more than it makes you wrong. It's where the definitions of friendship differ for you both. When you are sad you might want closeness, but they think it's best to leave you be.

So do you accept that is just how they are ? Do you continue to martyr yourself for some non-existent recognition ? Maybe choose to protect yourself by responding in kind ? No that won't work as that would only add guilt to the mix. Maybe just stop feeling bad about the friend and try to preserve the friendship ? It might be that they are tolerating you too. It may not be a priority for them to see you. It is possible they think they are doing you a favour by cancelling or not turning up if they think you're not going to want to see them. 

Just as one day you realise that a relationship isn't working any more and you would be better not being in it, sometimes we grow out of friendships. It takes a lot for me to let anyone new into my friendship group. I have friends I have known for a long, long time and they've been through a lot with me. I have also been through stuff with them. I trust and love my friends. I am fiercely loyal. To be frank I don't need any more of them. 

As we grow older and life does it's thing I am being more selective about who I make time for. The friend who works abroad and when she is around for a few days checks in with me to see if we can meet up. Who picks up gifts for my kids from all her travels - and actually likes to see them. Then there is the friend who tells me it's perfectly fine if I just want to rant or not say anything at all. I will send a random text message with no explanation at all and she responds perfectly. She just gets me. A friend who has come to meet me at short notice so he could give me a hug because I was having the crappiest day - now that is a great friend. 

Not everyone makes the cut. 

To be honest I bet the lead singer of the band is a pretty awesome friend. Even if he's not at least he's an excellent entertainer. 

Ready Art Brut ? 

A Mama Bear's work is never done

On Sunday we took the boys swimming. We try to have a family day when we can and part of that is taking them out to run off some energy and splash around so they sleep well. I was exhausted after a late night at a school event the night before. Whereas I usually swim on my own in the big pool I decided to stay with the boys in the small pool. As I moved around to stay warm I watched Blue Bear jumping in and swimming with his head under the water. It took my breath away. I remember when we first took him swimming and he would cling on and cry if we tried to let him go in the water. When I took him for swimming lessons he would get upset and sit on the side and shake his head forcefully insisting he wasn't going to go into the water today. I gave up being embarrassed and figured that if he wasn't going to be made to do it then I wasn't going to insist. Blue knows his own mind. He is a force to be reckoned with.

I thought about the little boy who first came to live with us. This tiny toddler who had a dummy in his mouth the entire time. He would put his hand over it if you tried to take it out. It was only ever removed to put in a milk bottle or if I managed to persuade him to let me brush his teeth. He barely spoke. He would shout or cry and his screams broke my heart. He slept in the cot next to my side of the bed and in the night I would feel his teeny fingers reach out to touch me to check I was there. In the end I would keep my hand inside the cot just next to his body. Not touching. He didn't like to be touched unnecessarily. Hugging was a one way street for a long time. We would hug him and he would allow us to, but he wouldn't participate. When we went anywhere he would stick close to us and hide if anyone spoke to him. 

This was 4 years ago. Now the story is very different. He has found his voice. Oh has he found his voice. Blue is a funny and engaging little guy. His teacher describes him as fun and kind which makes me so proud. He tells jokes. His laughter rings through the house and it is like magic hearing it. I recall the first time we met him at the foster carers' house and Hubbie was playing on the floor with Blue. He was hiding from him and lifting him up making him laugh. That throaty baby giggle that warms the heart. 

Yes he still wakes up crying and sometimes screams too. Early life trauma will do that to a child. I can't tell you how it feels to see your child shaking and sweating with fear and with tears all over his face. Inconsolable and unable to speak. All I know is that I comfort him and keep reassuring him that he is safe and we are here. We are not going away.

Brown Bear and Blue Bear now share a bedroom and a bunk bed. They were so excited to have their first sleepover the other week. My friend Soraya's son came to stay for the weekend and the boys were so excited to see him. They shared space, played and ate together, went to football with Hubbie and generally did boy things. At night when the boys went to bed I would kiss mine and when I went in to check on him I touched his head and wished him goodnight. The thought that he doesn't get a hug from his mummy any more was too much to bear. I didn't want to impose. When he was leaving I gave him a long hug - it was more for me than anything. 

This evening Brown Bear was really upset with me. He was tired and wasn't getting his own way. At one point I said, 

"Why didn't you ask me to help you ?" 

"You're a mum you're supposed to be able to read my mind." 

"I have read your mind since the day you were born. I have done everything for you. Now I want to teach you to be able to do things yourself." 

He looked baffled. 

"One day you will live somewhere else and will have to look after yourself. I won't always do everything for you." 

This boy has had me in his life since I put my hand on my belly and gave thanks for his very existence. How do I tell him that I won't always be here ? That his brother and his friend have already lost a mother and he is the only one of the three of them to still be with the woman who carried him. He takes me for granted. It isn't his fault. He doesn't know any different. His brother does. His friend does.

I have enough love for them all. Even if they don't believe it. 

Is this real life - or just fakery ? (with apologies to Queen)

At some point faking it became ok. Actually not even just ok, but aspirational. False nails. fake eyelashes, those weird big eyebrow things, botox, fillers - well you get my point. It's absolutely fine to pretend to be something you're not - visually. If you want to be a blonde you bleach your hair. If you want to have long hair you can get extensions. If you want to be a celebrity you go on a TV show and make an idiot of yourself. It's always been ok to fake that you're ok. I've done it for years.

Not long after my first marriage ended I was taking a course in psychodynamic counselling and it was tough. I held it together while worrying about how to pay the fees and whether or not I could cope with the mind games that the tutors would play on us students. On one occasion the entire room turned on me and I broke down in tears. The woman who had led the onslaught jeered that I was faking it for attention. In my supervision with the tutor I said I had been shaken by this. He told me it was probably because, "You give the appearance of being bulletproof." I looked at him in disbelief. "No one is bulletproof. How can anyone think it's ok to do that ?" I never went back to the course. I couldn't face it. Also I had to deal with this characterisation of me as this ice maiden with no feelings and no capacity to be hurt. 

Years later I worked for a man who clearly didn't like me. I was always polite to him and offered to make tea and joined in with the boyish chat in the office, but it was pretty awkward. In a meeting with him one day he told me, "You're a fake." I asked what he meant by that. "You pretend to be ok when you're not. You smile and make tea and it's all fake." It was like a kick in the belly. How dare he call me a fake ? I was offended. However, when I thought about it he was absolutely spot on. Of course I was faking it. How could I not be ? No one is happy and cheery all the time. It isn't possible. I was making the best of things and ensuring the office atmosphere wasn't unpleasant and frosty. I worked with some alpha males who would 'banter' and practically chest bump their way through the working day. I couldn't join in with that. I didn't want to. 

So why did it bother me being seen as fake ? I'm not sure being real was an asset I wished to cultivate. Being real just didn't appeal. My messy, out of control, unmedicated self just wasn't safe to unveil at work. In what possible way would it be of benefit to be myself ? I was used to having to pretend to be ok. To not be unhappy, or angry, or anything other than polite and friendly. After a while it becomes the way you see yourself, so when the mask slips you are just as shocked as anyone else. I have had entire relationships based on the image of myself I wish to portray. The kind and generous and lovely person I want to be seen as. Not the flawed, angry, unreasonable, unremarkable person I really am. 

One the years I found ways to manage the unpalatable - running, swimming, going to the gym. I would pound the treadmill, lift weights, do whatever it took to  unfetter the badness. When I swim I process all the unpleasant thoughts I can't have on dry land. I furiously work out why this rubbish thing has happened and keep going until I am physically too tired to do any more. People have asked me how I can run for hours without any music to listen to. Well in yoga we use the term 'monkey mind' for those random thoughts that just keep flitting into and out of your head: 

- I've got to cross the road there - maybe I can do it without pressing the light

- Oh that's the shop where I went it for a tissue once

- Isn't that the dog that lives two doors down from Jill ? 

- Next time I go to the theatre I can leave my car there. 

- The hedges are all trimmed back - when did they do that ? 

There is so much going on in my head that I just don't need music. It gives me space to work out how to deal with things that I can't give my time to otherwise. Often I get home shattered, but feeling better about something that I was upset about earlier. 

It's really only been in the last year that these two worlds have collided. The one inside my head and the one outside. The mask of "I'm ok" "Like me I'm nice" has melted away and it's like I'm standing yelling into an abyss. No filter, an overwhelming sense that things are out of control and a startling inability to manage my own emotions. It's like 40+ years of crazy have just escaped and I now can't get them back inside the bottle. 

I'd give anything to be able to go back to before it was all out there. The "No, I'm not ok actually." "Yes this is me in all my crappy and unpleasant glory." I've been all, "Leave me alone ! Why are you ignoring me ?" A bit like Olivia Colman's Queen in The Favourite when she chastises a valet for not looking at her then for daring to look at her. You think it's a pain to be on the receiving end of it ? Well it's no picnic on this side - believe me. 

There is no reward for sharing the bits of yourself you don't like. I think I preferred when it was ok to fake it and I thought I was getting away with it. 

Farewell 2018 Holla 2019

Things I did for the first time in 2018:

Trained for and ran a half marathon - I did it in just over 3 hours.

Cut off all my hair and donated it to a cancer charity.

Had a mammogram - it was fine, just a bit daunting really to be old enough to require one !

Went back to work full time after being at home with my kids for years - that was a bit of a shock to all of us.

Challenges I faced in 2018:

Spent more time in hospital waiting rooms than I would like.

Shed more tears than I knew possible, not always at the right time or in the right place.

Apologised for my feelings and myself and for things I cannot control. Too often.

Gave my time and energy to others who needed support - it helped me avoid my own stuff.

Saying no when I needed to rest.

Wanting to do everything and to see everyone and to be everywhere.

Promises I want to keep in 2019: 

Take better care of my health.

Train for and run another half marathon (in under 3 hours if possible).

Swim regularly again.

Eat well and cook proper food.

Look after myself and get more sleep.

Prioritise myself some of the time.

HAPPY NEW YEAR - I WISH YOU HAPPINESS, HEALTH AND PEACE

When the end is also the beginning...

This evening I went for a swim and rushed back to see Brown Bear before he went to bed. I asked him to help me move the things from our old car to the new one. He put on some shoes and came outside - a bit reluctantly admittedly - and then helped lug car seats and random water bottles and leads from one car to the other. As we worked together I explained that it was the end of an era and this was the car he had come home in as a baby. He smiled at me and we carried on. When we had emptied the car, remembering to take out the eighties CD which has some songs he and Blue Bear like on it, I asked him to get the booster seat from the new car. He asked why and I said, "put the booster on the passenger seat and get in. We're going for one last drive."

We found some rock and roll on the radio and I put my foot down. We drove down the hill (a bit too fast if I'm honest) and went round the car park of the golf club. "Do you remember when Blue came to live with us and he cried so much ? I drove round here a lot that night." "To make him go to sleep ?" "Well to help calm him down, but it didn't really work. He missed Auntie so much." We talked a bit more about his brother then I told him how magical it was to bring him home for the first time as a newborn baby. One day I will tell him about how desperately we wanted him. How we cried and wished and prayed for him and when we knew he was real it was the happiest day of my life. That I talked to him every day in my tummy and sang him songs. When Neo miaowed at 4 in the morning the baby kicked me from inside and I knew they would be a force to be reckoned with.

It's not just the car that is old now. Neo is frail and ill. He can't sit comfortably as he is stiff in his back legs. He sleeps on our bed all night and can't bear to be left alone. His kidneys are failing and it's breaking my heart to think he's not the lively boy who came home with us over ten years ago from Battersea Cats and Dogs home. Brown Bear loves him very much and it makes me sad to think how much he will miss him when he's gone. Recently Neo has started to sleep on Blue Bear's bed. He is an excellent babysitter and will stay until his charge is sleeping, then he comes downstairs and miaows at us to tell us the boys are asleep in bed.

Things that I've taken for granted are coming to an end right now. The car we brought our baby boy home in is being replaced. The cat who made our first house a home is growing older and weaker. The year is coming to an end and it's taken all of my energy and strength to make it to this point. I don't want to remember the lowest points, but I have to in order to get past them. This time last year my beloved friend Soraya was in hospital with kidney failure. She downplayed it on the phone, but it was as serious as it sounds. I didn't see her as she didn't want visitors in hospital. I was preparing for our first skiing holiday in France. We were really excited and hadn't told the boys yet. I was waiting for Blue Bear's birthday party to be over before I made it all about Christmas in the snow. Soraya was so pleased for us and I promised we'd speak when we got home. I think we did only once more before she died.

Saying goodbye is difficult. Not least when you don't expect to have to do it. I've told my boy that this car was special to me because of what it meant in relation to him and his brother. It's now time to make some new memories for all of us.

Big girls don’t cry

Are you a crier ? Do you break into tears at the slightest provocation ? That Dogs Trust commercial can set me off. Not proper heartfelt tears mind, those self pitying ones that are more about being tired and questioning whether or not I'm a good enough person for a pet to want me to adopt them. I also cry when I'm angry. This is not good. When I am trying to make a point and the only way I can do it is to sob or swear (usually both) I'm not at my best.

This year has been challenging. It's been tough in so many ways. Emotionally - I've had bereavements and relationship breakdowns. Practically - returning to full time work has been a huge adjustment for the whole family and I continue to marvel at the capacity for Hubbie and the boys to adapt in order to accommodate me.  Physically - I've been plagued by nothing serious, but small things requiring physio or rest (which I don't do often). In all of this time I kept going without taking the time to stop so I didn't cry. Well not properly - the occasional foot stamp and sob, but nothing major.

I usually have at least one weekend in the year when I take a break for myself and go somewhere nice and unwind. I sleep as long as I want to, spend time doing what I want to and just generally take it easy. I had planned to have that time away in April, but it didn't happen. Then I was going away in May instead and the car broke down so my relaxing evening became anything but. In a last ditch attempt to do this I was supposed to have a break this weekend and be back in time for my son's birthday. I really need this. Anxiety levels are critical now and the seal finally broke on the tears that haven't been cried all year.

At Soraya's funeral I cried during the short service at the crematorium - quiet personal tears. I had gone to the funeral on my own because Hubbie was at another funeral the same day - not a great start to the year for our family. It was a long day, sad and exhausting. For months afterwards I visited her partner and son to see how they were doing and would go home drained and tired from witnessing their grief. There isn't space to cry when the person in front of you is grieving so much and needs support. I would come home and Hubbie would hold me tight. No words, actual human contact and comfort from strong arms and a genuine concern for my wellbeing. Still no tears.

When I cut off my hair in her memory I felt incredibly sad and missed her so much. Facebook memories would remind me of something she had commented on or I would see a photo of us together smiling and laughing. The pain I felt for the friend I had lost then became about those around me who were hearing for the first time that they have cancer. I went straight into practical mode again. I needed to know I could be useful. It's all very well having feelings, but they don't get things done. Except I did have an overspill of feelings that were directed at entirely the wrong person

I'd love to say it was like Notting Hill where Julia Roberts looks at Hugh Grant and says, "I'm just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her," but it was far less dignified than that. This wasn't cinematic it was ugly, snotty, uncontrollable emotion. The kind that has been locked away for so long that it's just pouring out like a burst dam. It was so ugly in fact that rather than a reassuring hug or a soothing, "there, there, it's ok," I got nothing. Nada. So the tears stopped again. They have to don't they ? Being practical and not crying is the only way I can get on with things and make sure I don't fall apart. Until I do.

Now I'm a bit like one of those inflatable beach balls that you know has a hole somewhere because it's a bit soft and squishy. It's slowly deflating every time you use it, but you can't quite locate the leak. I am filled to capacity with sadness and tiredness and tears, but I can't find a safe space to put it all. It seeps out when I'm talking to someone and makes no sense at all. Who on earth would get that upset about such insignificant things ? Surely that's not normal. Hubbie doesn't judge or criticise, he wraps his arms around me and holds on as long as I want to. No words, no explanations.

I wanted to stay somewhere nice this weekend. I wanted to wake up late and go for a run. I wanted to just rest my eyes and my body and my mind. It wasn't to be. I also wanted to be around for my boys. To spend time with my family. To remember what it is to be a wife, a Mum, a daughter and a sister.

What I want and what I get aren't the same. Sometimes that is for the best.

How did I do today ?

It's all about the feedback. Not the sound you get when you hold a microphone too close to a speaker and it feels like your head is going to burst. Or the high pitched pips you hear when your mobile phone is too close to something electronic. The kind of feedback that is asked of you on the back of commercial vehicle, 'how is my driving ?' Or those cards they hand out to you in shops with a code - some even print it on the receipt so you don't lose them. It seems to be important to let companies know when they are doing well or badly. Of course customers will pipe up pretty quickly if things go wrong - often on social media. I refer you to our long drawn out dispute with Corgi earlier this year which was conducted almost entirely on twitter when they didn't respond to numerous phone calls.

Don't get me wrong I don't condone the vigilante style of feedback where someone will call out a company or individual abusively in order to get something for free. If I've had a bad experience I'll contact them directly first. It's only when they refuse to respond that I take it public in order to engage them in a conversation offline. I am also very fair and give credit when I've had a positive experience. A public recognition of good service or a kindly gesture is only fair when companies get so much flack.

So why don't we operate the same model for behaviour ? I took the boys out to see a show last night and when we got home I told Hubbie they had been really well behaved and enjoyed it. We always check in with each other like this and give a 'report' about our kids to each other. It's part of the deal with our shared parenting approach. If the boys know we are a team it makes them feel more secure, but also means they are less likely to try and outwit us with that old chestnut, "Mum / Dad said I could." It doesn't mean they don't try it on, but they are always aware it's unlikely to be a successful tactic.

Possibly the most common form of feedback we employ - which I understand is universal - is the, "how do I look in this dress ?" type. This is fraught with danger, but thankfully Hubbie has a pretty good approach to this. He is honest, but not brutal. Previous partners have been perfectly happy for me to wear a skirt that was too short or a top that is too tight, but Hubbie is aware that while he might like it, the outfit isn't necessarily for his benefit. Mind you recently I tried on a dress and declared, "my boobs are too big for it." and he responded, "No they're not. The dress is wrong." See why I married him ?

Of course asking for feedback doesn't mean we're always prepared to deal with what's said. I am aware I have many faults and the people who love me find ways to address those without hurting my feelings. I don't want to be criticised, but I do want to be told if I'm hurting or upsetting someone else by my actions or words. I do try my best to be kind and a decent person. However I am also aware that I can be petulant, unreasonable and downright moody. However I want to be seen as kind, thoughtful and rational. That's not always easy when people have known you a long time and know what you're really like. So I ask for honest feedback from those I trust. Who I've known a long time and would expect the same from me.

I'm not going to hand out cards to people asking them to rate how I did. I'd rather the people who matter know I'm doing my best.

Is now a good time to talk ?

Me: Hello lovely.
Soraya: Hello you.
Me: Are you free for a chat ?
S: Yes love - you alright ?
Me: I'm ok thanks.
S: How's it going ?
Me: It's been sunny - kids have been swimming and eaten coco pops so they're insane.
S: Hahahaha. Well if you will give them chocolate for breakfast.
Me: I know - I'm sure they've got social services on speed dial next door already.
S: So are you ready for tomorrow lovely ?
Me: I think so.
S: Clothes, shoes, handbag ?
Me: Nope none decided yet, but I have a shortlist.
S: What time do you start ?
Me: 9.30, training course first day.
S: Lunch provided ?
Me: Yep.  One less thing to worry about.
S: And are you ready ?
M: As ready as I can be.
S: Good. You'll be amazing honey.
Me: I'll do my best.
S: They wouldn't have offered it to you if they didn't think you could do it.
Me: I guess not.
S: And the boys ?
Me: They're looking forward to creche and will have dinner at school.
S: Excellent. So it's all in place then ?
Me: It is.
S: So why are you talking to me about it ?
Me: Because you're not here any more and I can't call you in the morning when I am panicking about my first day.
S: You'll be fine.
Me: Who will I call when I'm on the train ?
S: Look out of the window.
Me: I'll be too nervous.
S: Listen to some music. Read a book.
Me: That's an idea. I can't remember the last time I read a book and there's some cracking music around at the moment. You'd like it.
S: I bet I would.
Me: I'll make you a mix tape.
*both laugh*
S: You can still talk to me.
Me: I will. I do.
S: I know honey.
Me: They miss you.
S: Are they ok ?
Me: They're doing their best. They feel so sad. I do go and see them.
S: Thank you.
Me: All the boys went camping last weekend. Yours know the ropes and mine just loved doing it for the first time.
S: Did you go too ?
Me: I did.
S: You're braver than me.
Me: It was a yurt. It was hardly roughing it in the great outdoors.
S: Did it rain ?
Me: Of course.
S: Well I'm glad I wasn't there.
Me: We talked about the caravan that J bought you.
S: Oh god.
Me: I told him you'd been nice about it, but it was highly unlikely you'd ever use it.
S:You didn't tell him that ?
Me: I did. He laughed.
S: Oh well that's a relief.
Me: I turn over the engine on your car to make sure it's still working.
S: Is it ?
Me: Of course. It's a workhorse your car.
S: I saw you cut your hair.
Me: I did, it's a bit strange seeing it like this.
S: Do you want one of my wigs ?
Me: Cheeky cow - it's not that bad.
S: You know I love you whatever you look like.
Me: Not helping !
S: Ok, ok.
Me: Have you met Bowie or Prince yet ?
S: Can't talk about it.
Me: Spoilsport.
S: So, are you ok ?
Me: I'm nervous.
S: You'll be great. You know what you're doing.
Me: I'm not so sure.
S: I am.
Me: How can I do this without you ?
S: You already have.
Me: I miss you so much.
S: You've got this.
Me: Don't go.
S: Love you honey.

On being invisible

We took the boys to watch Coco last week. I had heard good things about it and that it is a tear jerker of a movie. What I hadn't expected was the thread about a person disappearing because they are no longer remembered by anyone in the land of the living. This concept of invisibility even in death really struck a chord with me.

I've often heard women say that getting older makes them feel they become invisible. Once you are past the being wolf whistled at' or 'flirting to get your own way' stage you are are firmly in the 'far too sensible for all that nonsense' stage. I have to admit I have pretty much always felt invisible. I wasn't a remarkable child and if anyone noticed or stared at me I found it unsettling. At university I preferred not to draw attention to myself, but expressed myself in the student paper as arts editor or on the radio station.

As a parent I have ceased to exist in my own right. From the moment I became 'Brown Bear's mummy' to now when the kids just choose to ignore me. I know this is a universal experience, but it is still galling to be tuned out by my children. Until they want something that is. Then it's all "Mummeeeeee, why aren't you listening to me ?" whine whine whinge whinge.

Friendship is the big shift for me in terms of invisibility. I lost a great friend this year and I notice her absence from my life every day. When I think about things that I would have asked her or jokes I'd have shared with her or news items that we would have been outraged by together. Without her here I feel invisible and ineffective.

Sadly as well as losing a friend against my will I have had to let go of others. I realised that I didn't have the capacity to maintain the friendship and they were unwilling to meet me in the middle. To be honest it was my 'enabling' that made it possible for them to be so high maintenance. I've always made the effort and gone out of my way because I valued their friendship enough to put myself out and to offer. Then I realised that I wasn't as important to them and not worth making an effort for in their busy schedule. If someone has so little respect for me then maybe it is best to be invisible.

One of them probably won't even notice - I am that irrelevant in their life. The other berated me for expecting too much. Yep - I am a loyal and devoted friend and I love and care about my friends. If that isn't mutual then maybe it's not a friendship at all. Losing friends is sad, but in this instance I choose to be invisible.

Instead I have reconnected with a friend who I've known for a long time and who has come back to me at a difficult time. She has been so supportive and positive and I regret that we lost touch for so long. We have been there for each other at dark times in our lives and are painfully honest with each other. It is difficult to be invisible when someone knows you as well as we know each other.

And now I can't even hide behind my hair any more - the security blanket that protected me from prying eyes and judgemental looks. I am literally visible and I feel exposed and vulnerable. It is unsettling being seen. I think I may invest in a pair of large sunglasses to hide behind.

Hair today, gone tomorrow (sorry, I'll get me coat)

Last Friday I went for my swim after the school run as usual and came home to have something to eat before I went to visit my friend at the Marsden in Chelsea. I sent her a message just to check it was still ok to visit in case she was having a bad day. Her husband contacted me to say if I had already left to not worry, but to be prepared to see her very, very ill. I spoke to him for a little while and reassured him that it was not a problem and I'd leave it for another day when she felt up to having a visit. He told me he's been there every day and it's been really difficult seeing her so unwell. It's hardly surprising considering she's had so many vital organs removed and is on many drugs to keep her alive right now. I told him if he needed anything - a cup of tea, a chat or a hug we are here for him. 

It was then I realised the true importance of a charity like Macmillan as it isn't just J who is dealing with cancer it's her husband too. He's a bit of a joker and doesn't let on when he's worried, but I've known J for a few years and she told me that he panics and just isn't able to deal with the stress of his wife being ill. I don't know when I'll get to see her, but the last thing I want to do is add to his concerns. 

Today I went to see Soraya's partner as we hadn't seen each other in a few weeks and I wanted to check how he's doing. It was difficult and sad and emotional. I left feeling that I should have been able to do more. I'm not sure what I thought that would be or what form it would take. I told him that tomorrow I'm cutting off my hair to donate to Little Princess Trust and to raise funds for Macmillan in Soraya's name. He thanked me and offered to give me her wigs. I declined. I'm not sure I can rock a syrup to be honest and I owe it to all those who sponsored me to display the shorn look. 

Lovely Alan has offered to donate the cost of the haircut to my fundraising total and Macmillan are coming along to photograph and film the whole thing. I promise I will share it when I have it. 

Thank you everyone who has been so incredibly generous and supported me in this crazy endeavour.  I just looked at the total on my fundraising page for Macmillan and it's well over £1,000 !!!  

Right, I'm off to bed now - see you on the other side. 

I'm not with stupid - I am stupid

I've been told I'm stupid a lot of times. My parents have always had a knack of telling me how useless I am and they have often shared their forthright and not at all flattering thoughts about my shortcomings. I grew up believing that anything bad that happened was my fault. If my sister fell and was hurt I'd get blamed for not watching her carefully enough. If I was hurt I knew it was because I'd done something wrong. My dad would either shout at me or ignore me - it was the only way he know how to deal with stressful situations. At the lowest point he stopped talking to me for four years and walked past me in the street pretending he didn't know me.

I was frequently told how stupid I was by an ex-partner - hence he is an ex. In fact after I left him he took what I can only guess was delight in phoning me at work to tell me that there was clearly something wrong with me. He wasn't the first (or sadly the last) person to gaslight me, but I had no idea it was a thing back then. When I was in my first marriage I used to keep it all inside. The fear, the shame and the feeling that I had brought it on myself. I learned over time not to argue as it was just fuelling the self-hatred. If he was looking for a fight I'd back right off and just go quiet. Then he'd criticise me for 'walking on eggshells' around him. My family had no idea and I made excuses for why we had to cancel visits at short notice. I didn't tell anyone and barely spoke to my friends for years. When I finally left and they asked why I hadn't said anything I just didn't know what to tell them. It made me look and feel even more stupid.

Years later a woman who was working in my office, but wasn't really a colleague, was leaving her job and no one had offered to do anything for her last day so I asked if she wanted to go to lunch - thinking that she would invite others. When it was just me and her in Wagamama waiting for our food she proceeded to list all the reasons she thought I was stupid. I hadn't asked. I think I even paid for the meal. Another colleague spent a work social telling me how rubbish I was in front of everyone then at the end of the evening asked me for a lift to the station. I wanted to tell her to sod off, but I was so stunned at the cheek of her that I dropped her off at Elephant and Castle and willed a bus to knock her down. It didn't.

Frankly the queue of people waiting to tell me my many faults is not dissimilar to the scene from Airplane !

So what is it about me that is so kickable ? Well, they probably have a point. I mean how can so many people be wrong ? You see in my head I'm a person who tries her best to be kind and to be fair. I am a fiercely loyal friend and I care deeply about people. However, I am also inclined to speak without thinking. I make inappropriate jokes and I am terrible at hiding my emotions. If I don't like someone much I will be nice to them but I won't get close. The people who know me best have witnessed the idiotic and frankly baffling range of my emotions / behaviour and are still here. There is some reward for that surely ?

When Hubbie and I were first courting (his chosen word for it - it's quaint and sweet, I would say just like him, but he does read this !) we had a bit of a rough patch. I told him I needed to talk to him and we met in Battersea Park. He looked terrified. I asked why he was so worried and he said he guessed we were breaking up. I explained that there were some things we needed to talk about so we could work things out. It was a difficult conversation, but we walked in the park and talked about the difficulties and made a promise to keep talking to each other. We established something fundamental that day. Firstly, we are here for each other whatever the problem is and secondly that not talking is unkind and hurtful. With what was to follow it's just as well we had coping strategies. I don't know how else we could have coped with infertility, miscarriage, pre-eclampsia, adoption, bereavement and whatever else is yet to come. I have asked him to come with me for my mammogram so I may have pushed him too far - let's see.

The self-loathing I feel right now is really taking it's toll on me and those I love. I thought I'd broken my fingers the other day when I was upset about something and took it out on an inanimate object. My boys asked if I was alright and I said, "Yes I'm ok" while struggling to fix dinner with only one hand. Then I felt stupid for doing something that meant I couldn't care for my kids properly. I asked Hubbie last week if I really am a horrible person. He laughed and asked why I care what people think of me, but I can't help it. My own opinion of myself is so flawed so why would I trust my own judgement ? It feels like that at the moment. As though I've got a skewed perception of myself and that I think I'm ok, but the queue of people with baseball bats and rolling pins is getting longer again.

My cat is lying next to me on the sofa with his paws on my leg. He is a pretty good judge of character so I can't be all that bad can I ? 

Is it April ? Already ? Surely not.

I've written about Sunday night syndrome before. That sinking feeling you get when the realisation kicks in that the weekend is over and it's going to be Monday very soon. I don't usually succumb to this. For me a Monday is pretty much like any other day. Actually at the moment I'm often not sure what day it is. Obviously Bank Holidays mess with everyone's idea of time anyway. Almost everyone I know was convinced that it was Saturday on Good Friday and it's taken me a while to realise it's Sunday today and not Monday.

And now it's April. In my head it's still January. I remember when we were undergoing the assessment for adoption we learned about the effects of trauma. Adults who have experienced trauma in childhood are often stuck in the age at which it happened - emotionally. It's important for us as parents to support our child so he is able to process and move on from early trauma. I had no idea this would be relevant to me at any point.

This year started with the death of a close friend. It was a shock and when I see a facebook memory that she commented on or a photo of her beautiful smile it throws me. The kindness of people I barely know has been a surprise. I've been keeping in contact with her partner and try to sit down with him every two weeks so he has space to talk about her and to cry if he wants to. I take food for him and their son so that they don't have to worry about cooking. In the sadness of it all I'm grateful that we were friends and that I can do something to help her husband and son. Grief absolutely sucks. It's draining. It's relentless. Having things to do helps.

Of course fate intevened to ensure I'd be kept busy and this during the recent 'thundersnow' - our boiler broke down. In the afternoon I noticed that the radiator was cooling down and asked Hubbie to check the boiler was ok and he said it had a fault code he didn't recognise. We had a long drawn out drama* with the company we pay to maintain the boiler for us. They were less than helpful and suffice it to say that actual Corgis would have been more useful in helping us resolve the issue than they have been. We were very lucky that our lovely neighbour let us use her bathroom to give the kids their baths and we were boiling pans of water to wash up. It wasn't exactly hardship, but it was annoying when we'd been paying for cover to ensure this sort of thing wouldn't happen.

As if having no hot water or heating for three weeks wasn't bad enough the car battery decided to fail right in the middle of all the cold weather. Another mum from school helped me pick up the boys - why is it always at the most inconvenient times that these things happen ? The fab bloke from the RAC came out to us and replaced the battery for us so I now don't have to keep my fingers crossed every time I turn the key and hope it starts. The car is a lot like Trigger's broom in Only Fools and Horses. At some point it's had pretty much everything replaced on it and I doubt much is left of the original car we bought.

Everything that broke down eventually got fixed. Well, not the oven, but that's another story for another day. The one thing that I can't replace or mend is the feelings of sadness and loss. The need I have for this not to have happened.

*if you really want to know more about this read the thread I wrote on twitter about it. 

How can you mend a broken heart ?

It's been a sad day today. I don't know why in particular. I went to see my hairdresser to plan the big haircut for Macmillan. I'm cutting off my hair and donating it to make wigs for children and we needed to see if it would be long enough to donate. When I was talking to him I felt so sad - not about the hair, I'm not that vain. It made me think about the reason I am doing this. It reminded me how overwhelmed I was when I made the decision to do this. Within hours of hearing of my friend's death I wanted to do something and that was what came to mind. I don't know why and I can't explain what I hope to achieve other than to raise a lot of money for a fantastic cause. 

As I was going about my day today I was listening to the radio. This song came on and I started to cry. A lot. However much I think I've come to terms with loss I really haven't at all. I remembered how the sun shone on the day of the funeral. The funeral director walking in front of the hearse and the tears in her eyes as she also knew Soraya and had arranged her mother's funeral a few years ago. Driving to the crematorium with a family member I'd never met before and making small talk until we got to the chapel. All the while the sun was shining and it was beautiful. 

So why was it that today as I remembered all these things I just felt so very sad. Empty. Hollow. Maybe it is because my heart feels broken.

Thank you for the days

I've been a bit quiet lately. 

Tomorrow we say goodbye to my gorgeous friend. 

For now all I can do is share this with you. 

Normal service will resume in the near future.

Sticking it to cancer

In the last 24 hours two women I know have lost their lives to cancer. Yesterday evening I received a message that my brother-in-law's mother had passed away surrounded by her sons. She had been a carer for her husband for 30 years and enjoyed only 6 years with her grandchildren and a partner who had also lost his wife to long term illness. Following a diagnosis last summer she received a very short and rapid course of chemotherapy, but it was unable to save her life. Christmas was spent checking with my sister how she was doing as we all knew it was only a matter of weeks before her mother-in-law would no longer be with us. At least her sons were with her at the end.

Then this morning I had the message I had been dreading since I heard last week that my darling friend had only days to live. I had just finished teaching yoga and was making a cup of tea. The phone beeped and I stared at the message for a few minutes. Then I broke down in tears. Big ugly, wracking sobs and felt my legs give way under me and I sat on the floor crying. I had only spoken to her a few weeks ago. We saw each other and laughed and joked that when she was done being unwell we'd go back to making radio shows together and making plans to rule the world. So what happens now ? 

It's not supposed to be like this. She's supposed to be at the end of the phone to help me prepare for the job interview she kept telling me she knew I was going to get. Who am I going to talk to about the letter I got telling I have to go for a mammogram ? She was an old hand at them and would have talked sense into me about how it's nothing to worry about and honestly it's just annoying more than painful. Don't even get me started on menopause. We were supposed to go through that together. Comparing notes and sharing mini-dramas and hysteria. Now she's not here any more. 

So, I have to go into this interview with all the confidence that she had in me. Knowing that she had belief in me and when I thought I couldn't do it she told me of course I could. As for the boob thing, well I'll be honest I'm not looking forward to that at all. Maybe I can ask a friend to go with me. Is that being pathetic ? 

I'm also taking on cancer head on. Literally. I'm going to shave my hair off for Macmillan Cancer who supported some people I love when they were at the end of their journey with cancer. Macmillan nurses are incredible and I want to show my appreciation for them. I'm growing my hair between now and my birthday then I'm going to get it cut off and donate it to a charity that makes wigs for children. With my new aerodynamic style I'm going to run the Royal Parks half marathon - at lightening speed of course. 

So that's my plan. Ok, it's not a cure for cancer, but it's my response to the senselessness of it all right now. 

If you want to stick to cancer and help ensure no one has to cope with cancer alone please sponsor me here: https://bravetheshave.macmillan.org.uk/shavers/swazi-rodgers