21 June 2014


I'm writing this because I just need to get it out of my head. Because it's 4pm and I should be asleep at this time, especially as I haven't slept properly so far today and I'm already exhausted from a tricky week and if I don't get some sleep soon I won't be able to sleep tonight - but I can't sleep. Because I can't seem to process this stuff in the privacy of my own mind and let it go. Because my heart is thumping and I can't seem to relax. Because I feel like crying (ok, I AM crying), and I know it's silly, I know they didn't mean it, I know they didn't understand what they were saying... but I just need to get it out of my head so I can relax and get some rest. I don't know if I'll actually publish this or not, but I definitely need to write it.

People say things they don't mean. I know that. I know they just say the first thing that comes into their heads. I know they're just trying to make conversation, to fill up what they see as an awkward silence. And what I need to vent about is by no means the worst unthinking comment I've ever heard; the prize for that probably goes to the person who told my sister,

12 June 2014

Parenting Problems #2: issues with my daughter's health

OK, so I know that in this post just a matter of hours ago, I said that there would probably be more 'Parenting Problems' posts in the future - but I wasn't expecting to need to write one quite so soon!

11 June 2014

Parenting Problems #1: getting my child to the doctor.

I'm calling this 'Parenting Problems #1' because I suspect there will be many more to follow...!

So. The day I've been dreading has finally arrived: I realised yesterday evening that my 3 year old daughter E needs medical attention. She almost certainly has a UTI. Yay(!) (On the plus side, I'm hoping that this at least explains some of her recent difficult behaviour!)

When I realised about the UTI, my first thought was, "Oh, poor thing!", closely followed by, "What on earth am I going to do about it?!!"

6 June 2014

The Quiet Violin

Grief is a funny thing - ok, bad choice of words, but I can't think of a better one right now. Funny 'strange', not funny 'haha'. Just when you think you've done your mourning and come to terms with things, grief hits you like a blow to the stomach out of nowhere.

People who know some of the realities of my current life are often surprised by how cheerful and positive I am. I guess I'm just an unquenchable (ridiculous?) optimist. Don't get me wrong, I am not immune to depression; I have hit some very deep dark places more times than I wish to remember. However, this current bout of ill health is not the first time my life has been severely restricted by major health problems - I think it's the fourth, if we're counting. So even before the ME, I'd already done a lot of grieving and raging at the world about loss of health; I'd already had a lot of counselling and done a lot of processing. Don't try coming to me for any answers though, I don't have any! Life just is what it is; there is no such thing as 'fair'.

3 June 2014

Is it bravery if you don't have a choice? (Or: Kudos to carers)

In the past few weeks, I've been described by a few different people as 'brave' and 'stoic' and things like that. And that's lovely and everything, but I don't really think it's true. It's not like I've chosen this life. It's not like I'm doing it for charity (sponsored breathing, anyone?!), or like I've stepped in to take on someone else's health issues so that they can live life again - and yes, I know that one's not actually possible, but what I'm getting at is that I didn't choose this. I'm not brave, I'm just someone who is trying to make the best of life in a difficult situation, like countless other people around the world. I don't know anyone who has a perfect life, who doesn't have some issue of some sort that they have to endure. I'm not brave, I'm just human.

You know who is brave, though? My husband. And anyone else who is a carer. They have a choice. They don't *have* to stick around. They could walk away, but they don't. They are true heroes, and they deserve the highest honour their country could bestow.