From hurt to happy

Big emotions in our home this week - grief, sadness, disappointment and a lot of hurt. In what has been an unrelenting (almost) 2 years we have all been through a lot. It's felt unending and despite my capacity to be like a Weeble and never fall down I am the closest I've ever been. Yes I can handle it, I know I am strong, of course this will be the making of me. You know what though ? I'd just like a bit of breathing space. A break from the punches that keep raining down.

I'll be damned if this state of mind takes me over. I have made it out of a situation in which it was like my head was being held under water. I was fighting to breathe and yet I kept putting myself back there because it was what I knew. Now I have no idea what happens next. Yes I can keep putting one foot in front of the other and take it one day at a time. You know what though ? That isn't going to cut it any more. Fearing that someone can pull the rug from under me. Looking over my shoulder or waiting for approval. Waiting for recognition or kindness in return from those I have given it to. Nope.

So this is how I plan to get to the next stage. The bit where I start to move forward and things improve.

Do less - a lot less.

Stress less about how to fit everything in

Worry less about keeping the house tidy

Have fewer things on my 'to do' list (or not have a list at all !)

Not so much FOMO - honestly if I don't go to that gig or watch that show life will go on

Then there's what I have to do more of:

I need to sleep more

Rest ie. sit down and relax

Drink tea from a proper cup, not in a travel cup while running out of the door or balancing in one hand while driving

Watch TV and lounge around with my kids

Onesie & movie Thursday should be extended to the other days too

This evening Brown Bear gave me his biggest soft toy and said, "Keep it to cuddle." So I am typing this with Sully on the pillow next to me and Suits on the TV.

Monsters inc. went from being powered by screams to harnessing the power of laughter. That sounds like a pretty good aspiration to me right now.

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.

I'm letting it all go

Wow, it's almost over. This year has been so long and so difficult and so very painful for many reasons. You will have noticed I haven't posted as much as I usually do. Partly that was due to my emotional state and partly because my MacBook came to the end of its days. I have new, shiny and absolutely beautiful kit (hence I am typing now) and it's time to deal with the other thing too. 

I started the year on a high having had a fantastic skiing holiday with the boys and an almost stress-free Christmas. I don't enjoy Christmas. I wish I did, but I just don't. If I could just not take part it would make my life so much easier. Then a few days into the new year as I was driving to Lewes to do my first radio show of the year I found out my friend was ill. I had no idea how serious it was at that point. Then she died. I didn't know what to do so I went into doing mode and have been in that ever since. 

A lot of things fell by the wayside when this happened.

I stopped teaching yoga, then I just didn't practise yoga either. I also didn't meditate. I haven't been sharing my skill and I haven't been benefiting from it myself. 

The garden hasn't seen me at all. I love my garden and I haven't set foot in it all year. 

I've gone from someone who holds it all in and puts on a brave face to giving in to all my emotions all the time. I have apologised for my feelings more than I have ever known. I've been a wreck and yet I'm the one saying sorry to others for daring to not be ok so I can protect their feelings. This self indulgence has become boring to me and - I am sure - other people. 

The realisation has hit me that I really cannot rely on anyone else to take care of me. My well being is my responsibility. More than once this year I have been promised some support or help and it just hasn't materialised or it's been taken away from me at the last minute. If I want to to get a break it's up to me - no one else. 

I've been ill over Christmas. I have had to lie down and rest. It's given me time to think about what I should do next. 

So, I'm letting it all go.

The grief

The sadness

The fear

The need to apologise for my feelings

The relentless search for reasons. 

That is enough. Time to pull up the braces and roll up my sleeves. This is done with now.

I'm putting the brave face back on - no show of weakness means no risk of being taken down. 

The only way I can get better is if I protect myself. 

When enough is still not enough

The belief that we are enough is one I think a lot of us struggle with. I have a lovely bracelet engraved with the word 'enough' on it that is to remind me that however badly I think I'm doing it's ok. I don't feel that way though. It's been a struggle to get through this year and I previously wrote about how it felt like I was on a relentless upward ride that I was not in control of. If I'm honest it now feels as if I've hit the buffers. I kept going and going in the hope that this would not reach me, but it found me.

In the last year I have been running regularly - training for a half marathon - and this was helping to stave off the feelings of sadness. In the last two weeks I have been too unwell to run so my moods have been unpredictable and unstable. I'm not at my best when this happens. My emotions are all over the place and I get all sorts of weird physical symptoms that make no sense, but add up to anxiety. Then I have the outbursts brought on by self-loathing. Pushing people away so that they don't have to deal with my unreasonable needy self. The worst thing is I can't control who this happens with and often it's the wrong people who see this 'faulty' version of me. The ones who have little empathy or who like to say, "I care about you," so long as it doesn't involve actually doing anything. I care about people in a practical way - you know hugs, cups of tea, silly little gifts,  sending them a song to make them smile or an invitation to do something to cheer them up. Not just saying the words and getting on with my day.

At the moment I am not doing well at parenting. Since I returned to work the boys have had a change of routine that seems to have unsettled them (and us to be honest). It isn't as simple as saying if I was at home things would be better. After all we did that for years. I was fortunate enough to be around for the early days when they needed a lot of care and attention. Of course they still need that, but they are also independent, confident and at school all day so I decided I was ready to do something else. Now I have that dual guilt that comes from thinking about home when I'm at work and vice versa. I get the calls from school to tell me Blue Bear has bumped his head, but he's ok or Brown Bear has been in trouble during football club. The frequency of these calls has a direct impact on my ability to concentrate on my work. I realise I should be able to 'compartmentalise' these different areas, but for me it's all interconnected.

I went back to work full time this year which has meant the whole family has a new routine and new challenges. It is tiring. I leave the house before my kids wake up and some days I don't see Blue Bear at all if I'm out after work as well. It's not what I wanted for them and it is costing me in my relationship with them. I feel so disconnected from my sons sometimes that I really want to spend more time doing the mundane things like dropping them off to school. Not just the frantic pick up in the dark just before the cut-off time for late charges. I know they are in safe hands and they love being in after school clubs, but sometimes I would like to be there a bit more. I know they put up with the absence because they have to, not because it's what they want.

It feels like I am losing my grasp of the 'brave face,' I have been putting on for so long. If anyone asks how I am I barely hold it together to answer them. The banks burst open and I break down in tears and then I feel really embarrassed. I can't really justify being upset about the thing that has made me cry, but I find myself apologising and trying to find explanations to assure the person that it's ok and they didn't do anything wrong. They feel better and I'm still in bits and now I'm too ashamed to talk to them because I made a fool of myself.

The safest thing to do is to retreat into a space that is not filled with judgement or the potential to hurt anyone else. If I just keep myself on safe ground - silly jokes, amusing gifs and familiar memes I can turn their gaze away from how out of control it all feels. I can go through the motions of doing all the things you're supposed to and make small talk. I can't have any deep and meaningful discussions until this passes. I don't know when that will be.

For now I just want to get through one day without crying.

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.

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 love you, but get out of my face before I punch you in yours.

I admit it's not a mantra that will rival anything by Rumi, Khalil Gibran or His Holiness the Dalai Lama. It's just that sometimes I have that Edward Norton in Fight Club vibe. No not the urge to steal women's thigh fat to make soap - and eww if you thought that !! I mean the fantasy where you punch someone to a pulp - not in a toothless and puffy faced Jared Leto, "I had to destroy something beautiful" way. Despite talking it up I am actually non-violent in my actions. So the intense feeling of wanting to punch and hit is not something I have ever acted upon.

I'm grateful that there is a movie that can vicariously deal with these emotions for me. It's important to be able to park feelings in a safe place when we can't deal with them. It's not always possible to 'resolve' difficult emotions so to be able to watch a movie and sob or laugh or grit my teeth in empathy with the characters is the next best thing to fixing it.

I've been reading about a Hindu goddess whose existence is all about being broken and growing from that brokeness. The idea is that in our lowest moments lie the seeds of great growth and personal development - I'm not sure about that, but I am pretty sure that feeling bad isn't going to kill me. I might find myself swearing or shouting at nothing in particular or in fact everything in the understairs cupboard that fell on me while I was trying to put some stuff away the other day.

Depression doesn't mean being down all the time. It may not even mean being sad a lot of the time. For me it often means being very angry for no reason at all. Being fine one minute and losing it the next over something so entirely meaningless that it's embarrassing.

Me: "Put your socks on boys."
Brown Bear: "..."
Blue Bear: "In a minute Mummy."

5 minutes pass

"Put your socks on now please."
Brown Bear: "..."
Blue Bear: "In a minute Mummy."
Me: "NO NOW !!"
(there follows a 2 minute rant at full volume)

See what I mean ?

It's not even being a bad parent, although on the evidence above you could be forgiven for thinking that. I worry that my sons may inherit my irritability and not be able to control their moods or lose their temper at absolutely nothing. I fear what they think when they witness it and do my best to hide the sadness and badness. This means they're not seeing the real me very much.

I don't mean to be ungrateful or unappreciative. Of course I count my blessings and I realise that there are so many people worse off than I am. That just compounds the belief in how bad I am for not being able to be happy when I have so much to be thankful for. 

Agood friend of mine was a 'functioning alcoholic' and I suspect I'm a 'functioning depressive' ie. I do the day to day stuff, keep house, make meals, take care of the boys and even manage to hold a range of voluntary roles. Surely depression means not being able to get out of bed ? Well I can get out of bed - slowly, but still. There are days when I am already worn out before I've begun the day, but I usually manage to function enough to make it through. I collapse at the end of the day going through in my mind all the bad things that I have done that day that make me a bad person.

I make myself do the things that I think a 'good person' would do. I mimic what I think a good person is. It never occurs to me that the mythical good person that I'm being might do the same. I believe that if I were genuinely a good person I would just do nice things without thinking, "Oh look at me aren't I a good person doing this good thing?" That reminds me that I'm not really good after all. 

It's not always possible to dismiss bad thoughts or feelings and when other people remind me of my faults it reiterates how awful I am. I'm doing my best. It clearly isn't good enough. It's as if I'm not in control of my emotions. I've been feeling massive waves of grief. Earlier in the year I mentioned to Hubbie how I was really surprised that I was coping without breaking down. I had no idea it was waiting there for me. Just biding its time.

Hubbie was away overnight earlier this week and when the boys were asleep I was sitting on the sofa with Neo scrolling through facebook (me, not him). I saw a memory where I talked about taking part in the Moonwalk with Soraya and she had made a lovely comment. A few minutes later I was wracked with sobs and unable to stop myself from asking, "Why her ? It's not fair. It's just not fair."

This evening I was listening to Ruby Wax on Radio 4 talking about mental health. It's gone from being a topic that was never ok to discuss to being pretty much everywhere. I still feel odd talking about it. Not least as I worry the person I've told will use it against me. I've never talked about depression or anxiety with my family even though they have been directly affected by mine most of my life. Hubbie is the exception and I'm already trying to find age appropriate ways to talk to my sons. I want to reassure them that my outbursts are about me and not them.

I haven't watched Fight Club in ages. I haven't metaphorically kicked anyone in the head in a while. I run and swim to manage my moods. I make sure I eat regularly and drink plenty of water to keep well. This weekend we all spent a sunny afternoon in my parents' garden while the boys played with their cousin. As we were all there we bribed the boys with ice lollies and cake so they would sit still for photos. It was such a lovely family moment and yet I felt as if I was watching it all from behind glass.

At this point it is hard to believe I'll ever feel 'normal' ever again. It's like my head is under water and every so often I pop up to catch my breath. In those brief moments it seems possible that things will get better. All I have to do is keep having those moments and notice them.

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. 

Hold on for one more day

You know in Austin Powers when he is horrified that he's lost his mojo ? Then he discovers it's been stolen from him and bottled. I hope that's what has happened to my blogging mojo. Since the start of this year I've been struggling to find the energy to put into writing so I've been absent. There have been a lot of things happening that have been difficult to process and I've promised to take better care of myself so instead of staying up late to write a blog post I make myself go to bed. Even if that means I'm then lying awake at least I'm lying down. I had no idea that grief can be so debilitating. It's exhausting. Practical nonsense has also stepped in and as I type there is a fan heater on in this room as it's more than two weeks since our boiler broke down and we have an ongoing issue with getting it fixed - well replaced actually. 

In the time I've been out of the loop there have been so many topics that have inspired potential blog posts and I've just not been able to write them. Things that I hope to get round to eventually, but for now they just circle in my head when I swim and I ponder what I might have written had I been capable. 

Me Too: There is so much to say about the outrage and indignation that has been unleashed by this movement. I deliberately haven't added my voice to this debate or used the phrase. Not because it hasn't happened to me - it has. I just didn't have the capacity to deal with all the feelings it would bring up. 

International Women's Day: I chose to spend my time on twitter this year adding my voice to the whole, 'hey why do women get a day all for themselves' issue. I was delighted to see that Richard Herring decided to use the platform he has on this day to raise a considerable sum of money for Refuge. Some good can come from misogyny I guess. 

Oxfam scandal: I worked in overseas aid for many years and have seen how unethical some areas of the industry can be. I'm not being cynical when I say I'm not at all surprised by this story. I am being realistic in that the power relationships that exist between those in need of aid and those providing it are already out of kilter. If you then add in the concept that aid workers are 'doing good' by even being there then you can go some way towards understanding how it happens so easily. 

I call BS: I remember the exact spot I was in when I heard about the shooting in Dunblane. It is deeply ingrained on my brain and to this day. Whenever there is a school shooting in the US and the same old tired cliches are trotted out it reminds me how incredibly sick I felt when I heard that it had happened in Britain. Except this time it is the children and young people who are speaking up for their own safety. I don't know if it will be any different this time, but I hope it is. 

These are just a few things I have been thinking about and just not been able to articulate on here. Staying out of the way of difficult topics hasn't protected me from them, but it has given me space to think. I'm spending time with my boys and making plans with Hubbie. Dedicating myself to the causes and people that matter. Training to run a half marathon for Macmillan and looking at haircuts that might suit when I cut all my hair off to raise money for their cancer services. Checking in with my lovely friend who is at the start of her journey with cancer treatment and with the widower of my friend who reached the end of hers. 

I don't know when I'll get my mojo back - I can't promise it will be soon. I hope to get back, so please bear with me until I get there. I'm mostly swimming, running and making radio shows - oh and watching Bridesmaids - a lot. 

If you want to sponsor me please find the link here: https://bravetheshave.macmillan.org.uk/shavers/swazi-rodgers

Sunday Night disco

I've written about Sunday night syndrome before. That feeling of dread you get as the weekend draws to a close and Monday morning gets closer. To be honest at the moment I'm not sure what day it even is most of the time. It makes no odds to me anyway.  I think a bit of music therapy is in order.


Free Fallin' - Tom Petty:

Let it be - The Beatles:

Where are we now ? - David Bowie:

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 music, the laughter and the love

Yesterday was a tough day. I had intended to write a post while the boys were at football, but just before they left I got a text message. A friend I love dearly is seriously ill and has days to live. She is the same age as me and we have been through a lot together. I knew she was ill - of course I did - but I had no idea this would happen. So soon. I spent some time walking round a bit lost. Then I cried. A lot. When I thought I was done it started again and eventually I had to ask Hubbie to not rush home as I didn't want the boys to see Mummy so upset. 

Things aren't so easy at the moment. I have a lot I want to say, but it is all too soon. When in doubt I turn to music so I'm doing that now. For my beautiful, wonderful, talented friend.  The last time we saw each other we chatted, made jokes and played music. All the things we love.  

So for now I can only think in terms of the music we shared and loved. Forgive me if the words don't make much sense. 

Prince - Starfish and Coffee:

Once we were at a conference in Islington and we went for brunch afterwards. Soraya ordered pancakes with maple syrup, banana and bacon. She declared them, "not that bad," and I surmised that it was her pregnancy hormones talking. 

Norah Jones - Thinking aboout you: 

Soraya phoned me one day to tell me she had some news. She had breast cancer and had wanted to tell me in person, but she wanted me to know. I saw her soon after and throughout the treatment we spoke regularly. Even if we didn't meet up, she was in my thoughts. We joked about going shopping for wigs together. She always gave time to talking about my stuff, however mundane it was in comparison. Having said that she did not forgive me for going to see Norah at Ronnie Scotts without her last Autumn. 

Shakespeare's Sister - Stay: 

Whatever happened we were there for each other. When she was given the all clear 5 years after a breast cancer diagnosis we walked the Moonwalk together. At the beginning when they said 'think about who you are doing this for' we held each other and cried. She was my reason - she was there with me. We talked non-stop for around ten hours and still had plenty to say to each other. I don't know anyone else I could do that with. 

David Bowie - Lazarus: 

I remember how devastated I felt when a man I didn't know and had never met died two years ago. His music has been with me my whole life and the idea that he was gone just filled me with sadness. When I spoke to Soraya she expressed exactly the same emotions. As 2016 progressed we shared our angst at how terrible a year it was turning into. 2017 had to be better surely ? It wasn't. When we last spoke she told me she just wanted to get the year over so that we could start a new one and look to the future. I had no idea she would not be part of it. 

Corinne Bailey Rae - Put Your Records On:

This is how I want to think of Soraya - in the studio playing tunes she loved. That and being the DJ for Cheeky in the Chapel, the fundraiser she hosted for Radio Lewes and the Oyster Project. The excitement as she introduced songs by artists she had just discovered and I shared music with her that I had fallen in love with.

In the end I will remember her through music. That and her sign off when we spoke on the phone - lots of love.