Tag: family

Lucky

I’m finding myself lost for words.

Today 23 members of my family got together under a cloudless sky, huddled under a gazebo to enjoy food and drink together.

The BBQ was roaring, the music blaring and the laughter was carried through the space on the subtle breeze.

My two beautiful nieces ran around entertaining everyone whilst life stories were caught up on.

The sun beat down mercilessly and yet for the first time in weeks it wasn’t a bother. I sat and watched my family together and felt happy.

Solely happy to be a part of something so big and wonderful.

The family will be growing soon. It’s funny when you are young, you think you have a big family. I have 5 cousins which is relatively small. But when you, your two brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents are all in one room the space makes the family seem enormous. As time wears on, partners enter the mix and the numbers almost double. And then came the children. Now there are three babies to be born into our large family in the next couple of months. The brood is now getting very large.

New stories. New lives. New everything.

As we were driving home. I looked up and saw the big, beautiful moon and started thinking about all the people who too would be looking up at its beauty. I wondered if they had big families. Whether they saw them often. How different peoples’ lives can be for the better or for the worse when it comes to the families they belong to.

As we drove towards that moon I started thanking the big wide universe for the privilege of being in a family like mine. Not everyone has it. Not everyone acknowledges it. Not everyone takes the time to sit and drink it all in.

Whether it’s by choice or circumstance not everyone does or can. I’m just lucky.

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com


One piece at a time

STOP placing your sense of self worth in other people’s hands. 

I saw something online during the pandemic that completely resonated with me and yet has taken me this long to fully incorporate into my life. It was a simple phrase. At first I thought it sounded quite bitter. Something a narcissist would say. However, as time has gone on and I’ve recalled it in times of sadness or doubt, it’s helped me look after myself and my own. My little circle of people. The people I take a picture of my garden for. The ones I let know that I’ve arrived at my destination in one piece. A funny memory that has popped into my head. A joke I’ve heard. Good news or bad news. 

‘It’s funny, when you quit texting first, you realise who was putting in all the effort.’ 

Let that marinade for a while. 

Are there people in your life whom, if you didn’t reach out first, you’d ever hear from? It is a scary thought and truth be told I wouldn’t necessarily stop reaching out to people to test them. They’re not lab rats and there are always plenty of situations that cause us to be flakey and forget other people for a little while. 

I’m talking about the ones who hurt your heart. The people who you try and try with and still get nowhere. Each time you may approach it differently. Wonder if you’ve done something wrong when you are ignored or cut short. Wonder if that is just how they are and why you’d want to be around it in the first place. When you see it happening to a loved one, who builds up such an image in mind of a yearned for relationship, only to have it crash around them you naturally want to help. You step in and try to play the matchmaker only to find the same attitude directed your way. It’s heart wrenching. 

Only today I encountered something similar. And then snap. The missing puzzle piece snaps into place. The picture is complete. All the edges have aligned. And yet the image is foggy, blurry and confusing. No more trying for people who don’t want to be involved, no more hoping they’ll say yes this time and no more excuses. It’s time for a clearer picture. 

I believe it’s age or experience that has made me sit up straight and swear to myself that the no bullshit approach is the one for me. Remember, the ‘he’s just not that into you movement’? The guy takes the girl on a date, says he’ll call and never does. Then the girl’s friends all swarm around with speeches about how ‘of course he likes you, he’s just busy’ and ‘he’ll call any day now’ or ‘maybe you’re just too pretty for him.’ I mean, how crazy can it be to be honest, he’s not calling, because he does not want to. And the same goes for friends. The same goes for family. 

It is not easy to be blunt. It’s often misconstrued as being a horrible person when you are. I’ve only ever done it once. To my beautiful friend who juggles her dating life with more than a little fear and trepidation. I’ve seen her confused, angry and hurt more than a dozen times in as many years and seeing her hurt more than enough times has led me down the path that leads to Blunt-town. And the truth is, it isn’t an attack on her. It’s an attack on babying her. And leading her to more heartache. 

The truth is, when dating, we build up a mock up of what we want a date to be. Then we build up a mock up of how the next one will go. And soon enough a whole relationship is plotted in our minds because it’s only natural to do so. The fact is, you create for you, to suit you, the other person has their own image and future puzzle pieces. You might have them cut out to fit into your picture, but you might not be in theirs. Maybe you’re sitting in a temporary pile waiting to be picked up. Or maybe discarded. It’s sad when you build up an image in your head only to have it ripped up. 

However, how can this be the other person’s fault? Unless you rolled out the image, pointed at the gap where they fit, and say, so what do you think? I’m unsure as to how they would know what is expected. I’ve been in that situation, I put my heart out there, he watched it jump out of my chest and took a further 3 months of my life to give me it back. It was bruised, exhausted and shaken when I put it back in my chest but if I had been honest I knew when he didn’t nurture it from the start that I could have saved myself a lot of grief. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. 

There is a limit to how many times we can build a picture of expectations up before it lays in tatters and we question why we aren’t good enough. Why don’t they want us? I wish I could reach through this screen and comfort you. Because you are enough. You do not need to chase the people who aren’t chasing you. You need to let go of those expectations. Focus on the puzzle pieces that fit into your life by choice. Not by hammering them in with a closed fist and telling yourself it works. It ruins the beautiful aesthetic of your life. Do you one of the most beautiful things that can happen when you stop chasing, you get messages and calls and they light up your day. Ring ring, this person is thinking about you. Ring ring, answer please, they want to talk to you. Ring ring, you matter. Ring ring, you’re enough. 

Playing devil’s advocate is a long running role for me. I’ll always try and look at things in a multitude of ways just to cover all the bases. But there’s an endgame when it comes to matters of the mind and heart. If your mind is racing through scenarios of why and what if and you can sleep at the end of it. Have at it. But if at the end of the race, you’ve found no consoling scenario, your night was sleepless, your tears are streaming and your heart hurts. You are the only puzzle piece that takes precedent. You are wonderful and you deserve everything because you are enough. Take a step back and realise not everyone thinks the same as you. Not everyone has the same image, picture, puzzle or expectation. We are all built differently. Some of us are laid back, easy going, like those wooden puzzle pieces with the plastic pins that fit into the wooden board. Some of us are intricate, with 2000 quirks and stories. You get the 3-d puzzles that just won’t cooperate. The double-sided dilemmas. And the box with the missing pieces. 

You can’t control the outcome. You can only control how you handle your expectations. The beauty is that unlike a puzzle, life is an ever changing picture. You don’t have control over it and the truth is if you did it wouldn’t be as beautiful. It would be forced. The picture is there waiting. We just haven’t seen it all yet. But piece by piece, one at a time, it’ll all fall into place.    

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

Time and a place

There are planned moments in life that fall into place and make you sigh happily.

There are other times that creep up on you, making you abandon all worries as you laugh unreservedly and giddy. 

Today I experienced both.

I have a brother who lives 270 miles away and due to covid it has been a rare blessing to see him and his family. Due to home and work commitments it is hard to spare the 3-4 days needed for a proper catch up and time needed to spend with my beautiful nieces. They are growing so fast. I can still see them both as babies in my arms and yet somehow they are 8 and nearly 4 years of age. 

As we travelled to Northumberland today, Alnwick to start, we found a unique opportunity to spend some stolen hours together. The sneaky one and I spoke briefly during the week about how it could work and a loose plan was set. 

On this trip we have brought my dad and his partner, Pat, sharing a place this special to us with our loved ones is half the experience this time. To sneak my brother and his family into the mix would mean a lot to them both. 

We started the day at 5am, car packed and raring to go. By the 100th game of ‘guess the song, its singer/band and year of release’ we had waved hello to the Angel of the North and counted down the last few miles to stop number one. Alnwick has so very much to offer and we had to cram the highlights in in just 7 hours. First up, shopping! The town is so pretty and had plenty of charity shops piled high with books to please my dad’s literary eye. There was even a craft market that took their fancy and a passing puppy that took mine. With lunch on the horizon we made our way into the grounds of Alnwick castle and after a quick sandwich break it was onto the next stop: crazy golf! It’s called the Forgotten Garden and transports your mind back to the ‘Honey I shrunk the kids’ movie. Among the beautiful plants and tall trees there are huge sculptures of bugs. A giant, lazy earthworm, two flapping winged bees atop a hive and a very naughty spider. At £4 a person it was an absolute delight and I’m imploring you to go if you ever visit Alnwick. In fact, here’s the link: https://www.alnwickgarden.com/families/golf/

I don’t get anything for sharing the link apart from the knowledge that it helps you and spreads the joy of this place. I’m sure I was distracted by the impending suprise arrival of the family that I came last, yes of course that’s why, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it! Unfortunately they were held up finding a car park and I wondered how to play the part of an aloof distraction. However, help in the form of ice cream arrived and I spent way too long eating a small tub of banoffee ice cream that I think Mr W at least suspected something was afoot. 

The plan was for Mr W and I to go our own way for a few hours while our ‘guests’ visited the castle. Starring as the backdrop in the first two Harry Potter films the castle is a must visit to all Hogwarts fans. But where was my brother? Heaven sent me another saving grace in the form of rain and we took shelter under a tree. I took the opportunity to ask Mr W to take some photos buying me more time as the sneaky one raced her family through the castle to our location. Swapping places with Mr W I was able to click away as my brother snuck up behind my dad and the surprise was unleashed. 

It’s a happy blur that my tired brain will no doubt let me visit again after a deep night’s sleep. But my niece raced at me with hugs and we all stood beneath the tree sheltering from the rain and in each other’s arms. Happy sighs cascaded from our mouths as the rain fell from above and encased us under the tree and in the moments glow. 

Happy sighs. 

Splitting up for a brief while Mr W and I turned back to spend some time in Alnwick Gardens. Expecting rows of roses, lines of lupins and tamed topiary I found myself proven very wrong indeed. Taking up a huge amount of the garden is an absolutely enormous multi-levelled fountain that screamed ITALY so loudly I could practically smell the pizza, pasta and prosecco. But no, we are in the North-East of England. After a quick cuppa, we head on a tour of the poison garden, through beautiful crafted tunnels of hornbeam that reach 15ft into the air and create a nest of green away from the heat of the day and into the stunning ornamental gardens. We follow the streams that bubble over pebbles down the staggered steps towards a curving cascade of bushes that create a serpentine maze that hugs individual illuminating water features. Made of metal they gleam like highly polished mirrors in the 3pm sun. It all became clear, whilst sipping my tea I saw a young boy of 8 or 9 in trunks with a towel about his shoulders. These water features are to be engaged with. To be seen, touched and enjoyed. We make our way around them, casually reaching out fingertips to touch the cool water on the humid day. They are fascinating. Mr W sends cascades of water my way. I flicked it back. We take pictures in the reflections. We laugh. We are giddy. 

Happy again, this time in a moment of child-like innocence. Pure and free from all adult concerns. Nose dripping from the water falling from my forehead and hair, we return to our family and feel a million miles from home and yet closer to our sense of being than we have in a very long time. 

Pcos and the feelings of failure

Living with PCOS will always be challenging. 

There are the physical and mental effects that I’ve discussed in depth. The anxieties around both are often strangulating. One of my biggest anxieties in life is letting others down. So it is only natural when it comes to my health and having children that I feel a great sense of failure when it comes to other people. 

Since July 2021, I have been VERY open about my life with PCOS. I want the people in my life to feel comfortable asking me questions about the condition and how it affects me, Mr W and our life together. I also want to get to the point where I am comfortable enough to say, ‘Thank you for asking, but I am not in the frame of mind today to discuss that, can we talk about it when I am?’. I think that helps give me a mental  break from it all on particularly challenging days and also tells the other person their questioning is valid and welcome for another time. I am really trying to focus on boundaries. Before I met Mr W, I had boundaries often built on sarcasm and avoidance. Since he came along I am more open, probably too open. I often thought it was all or nothing. Now I know you can choose what walls to build. Ones with barbed wire and others with doors that can give others an insight at your choosing. It is liberating to have this control. It’s not easy. And it starts with one discussion at a time. One strong step at a time. Knowing you aren’t being rude but knowing your own limits and protecting how far you’ve come. 

The main part of feeling like a failure for me is when I’m surrounded by children. They could be my beautiful nieces, all 4 of them, kids at the park or children of my friends. Seeing children sets off this yearning inside my heart and when I see other people play out their parental role I can’t help but feel like my body has failed me. And I it. How is it that the most natural thing in the world is not coming natural to me? It’s hardest when I’m spending time with my nieces and cooking them dinner, tucking them into bed or cuddling up to me on the sofa. I never pull them in for a hug, I let them do what they want, so the cuddles they clamber onto my lap for are some of the most precious moments in my life so far. It’s a real bond that tugs at my heart strings. It’s when I’ve heard, ‘Oh, you’re so good with the girls.’ that I feel like I’ve failed my family the most. Please don’t get me wrong, it’s the most loveliest of compliments, but in my head I translate it to ‘You’d be a good mum.’ and it hurts my heart. 

Two of my nieces had a sleepover at our home last year. They are early birds, especially the youngest, and as they had slept a few more hours than us, I plonked the youngest down in our bed between Mr W and I, and snoozed the early morning hours away. It was a moment I could see happening if we have a baby. Gentle snores as the sky outside turned from night to day. Later that day, they had bathtime, fresh clothes and then ‘wrestling playtime’ with the giant panda in the bedroom. The perfect Sunday’s I dream of with our own children. Mr W took the lead and the room was filled with laughter and racing legs. Seeing him with the girls, so natural in the role, is so beautiful and yet a reminder of what my body is depriving him of. Failure shines like a beacon so strong at times it feels blinding. When we have my nieces here, any of the beautiful 4, I am their Auntie, the adult in charge, their protector and friend, I feel as though I’m playing the part of mum that is quickly taken away when they leave. To play pretend is not enough. It is fake and quite frankly painful when it ends.

In my 8 years of being an Auntie I have had many moments like this. From the beautiful laughter to the nasty stinking nappies, all add up to the memories I want with my own children. I often hate my body for its failures. 

Lately, I’ve learned more about PCOS and how my body is indeed in a state of disarray but there are ways to improve, fight back and repair. It isn’t easy, but if I don’t help my body I am failing it in turn. A big example of this can be found in my tears on a park bench 6 days ago. My evening run had ended abruptly when my body would not cooperate as I would have liked. Having completed the NHS Couch to 5k before, I honestly thought our reintroduction to it would be easier. And yet I have found it so much harder. Why, I do not know. But the end of week four has seen me stumbling along in absolute agony. Again, why is my body failing me? So as we sat there, Mr W said if this wasn’t working for me, we would find something that would work. Just because running was a failed attempt at getting healthy, didn’t mean every physical exercise would be. It’s a change in mindset, to stop being so derogatory to oneself and challenge your mindset everyday, but it really changes that ‘failure’ narrative.    

Something I am yet to do is challenge my PCOS so I can be physically healthy and that means not JUST to have a baby, but to live stronger, longer and feel better than I did the days and years before. Maybe this is a new failure on my part. It’s only lately that I’ve come to terms with the fact that this condition is not just problematic in terms of fertility but in how it affects my body as a whole. My body deserves more. Failing to recognise this is brought about by the learnings around the condition. The lack of learning that was and is available unless you go looking yourself. That is a failing of the education and health systems in place in this country. It is a success of mine to now look beyond this and learn for myself.

Only briefly, I will touch on this most mentally challenging failure I feel from time to time. I know they will read this and I hope it comes as no shock to them that I feel I am failing my parents. Mr W’s too. My family. His family. Our family as a whole. But it is mostly my parents, who I see as amazing grandparents to my nieces, that I feel a huge pang of failure. I want to provide them with more grandchildren and to stop them worrying for me. I feel worry as a wife, a friend, a daughter and I can only imagine that the worry you have for your child is more than any other worry. I wish I could stop their worries for me. I do not like the idea of them being sad or concerned. Do I want to have children to make them happy? Yes, is it the sole reason? Heck no! It’s just part and parcel of the gift of having a child. I see in my mind my dad giving our child their first book. Maybe teaching them to read. I see my mum sneaking her grandchild a Cadbury button despite our pleas for no more sugar. There is a glint in her eye. Mr W’s mum holds her grandchild in her arms and exclaims that they look like her son. They have his eyes. I see all this in a loop in my head. How can I not feel like failure when I can’t bring this into existence? 

As I said before, having a child is one of the most natural things in the world, and I feel like I’m failing everyone around me who wants that for me. They see my sadness and want it to end. We all know how it ends. A baby. What I need to try and dismiss are the feelings of failure. They only add to what is already a pretty stressed out body. This body is coping with anxieties because of the physical effects, the mental health conditions that are tied to it and the very real physical stress in every cell of my body. It does not need any more. So I need to come to an agreement with myself. 

I am only failing if I give up. Some days it feels like a closer option than other days. It is like I am balancing on my toes on the failure line and a slight breeze will push me over. I just have to keep pushing back. Weakly or strongly. Whatever I have at the time. 

I do feel pride in how open I am about my life with PCOS because I no longer feel like I am hiding away and almost feel like I am spreading the word. The more people know, the less stigma other women out there may feel. This isn’t something we asked for. It is in our very make up. It’s not pretty. It’s not easy. Acknowledging this recently has changed how I feel when it comes to failing. There will always be harder days when I’m at my worst and I want to crawl into bed. I admit that does happen. I also admit that at this point, I just let it happen. I’m listening to what my body and head needs. Time to shut down to restart again the next day. Not failing, but learning. 

Please visit these blogs to find out more:

https://frameworktravel.home.blog/2022/05/11/pcos-and-me/

https://frameworktravel.home.blog/2022/05/19/pcos-fertility-and-me/

https://frameworktravel.home.blog/2022/06/02/when-i-was-19-and-it-was-first-hinted-that-i-had-pcos-i-knew-nothing-of-the-condition-being-put-on-the-pill-by-a-doctor-made-me-think-it-was-going-to-help-i-trusted-it-was-for-the-best-it-was-when/

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

Sit with me a while

There is a river my family is fond of. We know it well. The River Thurne ebbs and flows much like our return to it. So far three generations of our family have continued their summer visits here and it is a tradition that is beautiful.

The River Thurne runs through Potter Heigham beneath an old medieval bridge. When the water level of the river rises with the tide, the space below the bridge is so tight that nervous boats turn around to find other passages. It makes for an interesting spectacle from the banks with an ice cream or cone of chips.

I remember my first visits here, I was maybe 4 or 5 and my parents would bring us for a week’s summer holiday. There would be a boat hired for the week to go exploring the broads. Its first job was to take a week’s worth of luggage and food down the river to our rented bungalow. The car would be pulled up next to the staithe, our suitcases, boxes of food and teddy bears would be unloaded onto the gravel path and we with it. One parent would hoist the boxes from the ground to the other parent in the boat. All the while we sat, good little children, watching the ducks. Like the game tetris our belongings would be loaded methodically into the boat and we would then fit into the gaps for the short journey down river. The green and white bungalow had a huge green lawn dotted with daisies and a beaten up old tree that welcomed you to your week long stay. I look out for it, even now. It has one double room and a twin room that my brothers and I shared. The boxes that the food was brought in would be flattened and placed up against the window to try and bar the room from the morning sunlight. It would stream through the windows at 5am and wake us kids for the day. The flattened box meant my parents got an extra 2-3 hours sleep. However there was the odd duck call from the water outside that would have me bending back the cardboard to peek at the river, flooding the room with daylight and beginning the day. It is a sound now that returns my mind to that time and place no matter where I am in the world.

I learned to fish here. I learned to drive a boat. And just today I learned not to be the one holding a big ice cream on a sunny day whilst someone runs to the toilet. As I stood there waiting, cream running down my forearm, I heard my grandad laughing in my head. It would have amused him to no end.

He loved it here. He would get up before the sun and set up his fishing rod. Sitting with the river before anyone else was awake, watching the rod for its slightest movement indicating a bite from a passing fish. Nodding off in his chair with the river lapping against the bank. His return meant that breakfast was ready and after breakfast the day’s plans were decided. Usually it was a boat trip along the river to a pub for lunch. There are no white water rafting experiences or rapids on this river, it slowly moves on and gives you peace away from the hustle and bustle that life generally throws at you. You’ll find a leisurely paced trip on a spluttering old boat making you question, why? But the truth is, spending three hours on the peaceful waters, watching the wind in the reeds and the birds in the sky, is just the break you didn’t know you needed. As kids, we would sit in the boat awaiting the call of ‘ducks ahead’ and spring into action with our pre-bought duck food. If you ever saw an enormously overweight duck in the late 90’s waddling around the Norfolk Broads it is highly likely my family were the cause. A pub lunch was a quick pit stop with lunch favourites of sausage and mash or fish and chips. Cries of ‘Mum, can we have some 2p’s, Dad got any change?’ so us kids could play the old arcade game in the corner. Then back to the boat to beat the sun returning to the horizon. It seems so simple now. A whole day spent on a journey and a meal but it was what my childhood was made of. The sounds of the river. The smells in the wind.

Even today, as I sit on the wooden riverside porch, I am beckoned to the water to see the ‘omg, look at the ducklings! 13!’ It’s taken me 15 minutes to come back to my spot and continue on. Yes they are tiny. Yes she is clever for having 13 (!). And yes, despite my grumbles I will race around with a camera for the hundredth time in my 34 years to take photos, coo over them and share the disbelief. This is what this place does. It repeats the experience but it never grows old.

There is a photo somewhere of my dad taken here. He stretches up towards the sky with a piece of bread between his finger and thumb. A swan next to him, reaches up at full height, stretching its neck long, wings spread for balance. I remember it every time a swan passes.

Photos of cousins crammed into a boat.

My brother catching a pike, a first for the family.

Maggot races on paving slabs while the adults fished.

Being slimed by an eel, wriggling on a hook.

Mid-day chip shop runs to the best chippy known to man.

This place is steeped into my history. Ingrained in our story.

A rainstorm that made a boat journey across a deep broad unforgettable. Barn owls flying over the field as you prepared dinner. Countless tips of the hat as families passed you on their day cruisers. Silent cups of tea at 7am taken outside, in the chill of the morning, just to say hello and good morning to the river. The ducks quacking. The seagulls screeching. The far flung fields of cows throwing up the odd moo. The ever present lap of water against an aged wooden bank. The ‘eeeee’ of a fishing line as it is cast across the water and the plonk as it lands, disappearing into the depths.The sounds that anywhere else are just background noise but here are moments of history popping up to say ‘remember me.’

Three generations that return like the flowing river to carry on the tradition started by a man who chose this as his place to escape and remember what was important. I like to think that even though we move from the same path at times, we come back together in important times and share laughter once more. Our journeys are changing everyday, branching out like tributaries finding their way and yet always remembering where we came from and how to go back.

The River Thurne has a new neighbour. An oiled, cared for bench bearing a tribute to a man who once sat at the head of this family. His name is engraved on the metal plaque that sums up his life and this place. When it comes to describing this place and why we return it is hard to put into words. We come. We sit. We drink and eat. Simple pleasures, with wordless actions and to ‘Sit with me a while’.


Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

Beautiful/Crazy

There are days when your emotions run so high and low that you can barely find balance. There are days when you wake up and you don’t want to go outside. There are days when you can barely move because you’ve been so busy the day before. There are days when you have things to do and people to see and all you want to do is avoid it all because you don’t want to plaster on a fake smile because all you can do is cry.

Today was one of those days. After a mammoth drive on jubilee Thursday we found ourselves tired and facing another busy couple of days. We had family visiting and spent the morning with them and then ran errands. We then see friends to plan for June 2023. Followed by another rushed evening and preparations for a very special person’s 90th birthday.

The party for my nan was absolutely amazing with lots of memories made with children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I watched as my brothers and their girls sat with my dad and family and I just felt the sadness creep over me. At times so consuming I was breathless. Where was my child in those pictures? I hate it when out of nowhere those feelings arrive. It’s like one minute you cannot be happier and then the next you’re crumbling. How much longer can I keep it together? I know for a large part of it it’s due to how frantic we’ve been and how tired I’ve felt but what they are real emotions and they do come from a very real place of longing. 

I was able to distract myself by tidying up toys and bringing out the birthday cake and orchestrating the family photos but ultimately it’s all a distraction. And I wish I didn’t need that distraction. I don’t want to go through life doing these things they’re a great way of passing the time between feeling happy and feeling sad and wondering what feeling will win. Nevertheless, the look on my nan’s face as she arrived to see us all singing Happy Birthday in one big surprise, giving a little speech and seeing her birthday cake was amazing. One of the best feelings. To build that joy in someone you love so deeply can never be replicated. It’s a one of a kind triumph. 

Today we went to another family party, my cousin’s 30th. I was exhausted today, it was the 4th of 4 days that we’ve been bafflingly busy. And with more than 20 people to catch up with and talk to, it was tiring just thinking of it. So I put on a dress, wrapped up warm and wore really snuggly shoes and told myself to just sit and watch what was going on. It’s the safe option. And then we were thrust into the limelight to play giant Jenga. Why. Why. Why. It was a complete surprise and I didn’t know no how to say no. But honestly it was the best thing because we were up to play first, which meant that this tired gal got it out of the way and could sneak off to chill once more. We lost. Shucks. And then we watched other people play and attention grew and the crowd got silent, the birds sang and nobody dared breathe. You could hear a pin drop. And after the final was played and the winners had won we all sat down and laughed and talked and it didn’t feel like a chore. There was no fake laughter. No fake smiles. And no sitting in the corner. I was me again. No hiding. 

There was only one moment when the newest baby of the group was being talked to and played with, that I noticed what looked like a tear in Mr W eyes. It was then that I started to well up. I wish I could stop his longing and his pain. The best thing about this time of year is you can pass off red eyes as hay fever. After that moment the laughter and jokes were rapid fire and I found myself literally crying with tears of mirth however my body took over and the laughing tears turned to sobbing tears. I don’t know why this happens but buried beneath my jumper I was able to pass off the crying as laughing and carry on. Hiding away. I’m honestly grateful for today. It took me out of my head, I laughed with those I love so very dearly and I’m going to sit down with Mr W to relax.

Being kind to yourself is a daily challenge. There are lots of ups and downs. It’s hard to see the top when you feel so low and you daren’t look down from such highs. I will be reminding myself as much as possible that when you want something so bad it’s a hard hope to leave at home. It travels with you. The beautiful but crazy journey.  

Donuts

Today I’m struggling with my mental health. I was going to leave it at that and allow you, the reader, to decipher it quite simply. I’d chosen to take a break from writing today.

I’m all for that. Unfortunately there are times when my enormous fear of letting myself down storms to the front of my mind and declares war with rationality. Write. You’ll feel better. Write. You’ll only be disappointed that you didn’t. 

Write. 

I’ve been thinking of Scotland. In 2021 we took a few days out of our busy autumn schedule and travelled up to Edinburgh. I’ll put my hands up now and say the sole reason was to go to Edinburgh zoo to see the Giant Pandas. And it did not disappoint! I, in fact, spent the better part of 30 minutes sitting and staring at Yang Guang, their male panda. I may also have cried. It was a special, special moment for me. It was just Mr W and I for the viewing. The zoo is situated on the side of a large hill and the Giant Pandas are right at the top of this hill. Go figure! We quickly decided to slog all the way up the hill first, making no stops, so we could see the panda without interruptions. And who doesn’t love to get the crap bit out the way first. Walk up the hill. Enjoy the slow, winding walk back at your own pace. Roast dinner, veg first! It’s the rule!

Floating on cloud nine, I eventually had to leave the panda and seeing a donut cart, decided on a treat. Hot, sugary donuts! Mmm! You know the type you get at a fair or by the seaside and you can barely hold the paper bag because they’re so hot, but your stomach can’t wait, so you bite into the molten doughiness and find instant bliss and regret. Yeah, those kind. 

So, while I’m waiting in the queue for my 10am donuts, there is a lady in front of me who asks the server whether she can buy just a single donut. The server says “no, they come in batches of 4 only.” The lady says, “oh, okay, there’s no way I want that many.” I internally gasped and reminded myself to include Mr W on my donut haul. She walked away and I felt sad for the lady who was leaving donutless. I quickly get my bounty, and as I turn to leave, I see her with her family. I made a quick decision and approached her. “ Would you like one I ask?” She gives me the once over with her crazy detector and says “No, that’s okay.” “Honestly it’s okay”, I reply, “go for it”. And she does, I say “Enjoy” and walk away. Mr W is sitting on a wall, watching me, he asks what I’m doing and when I tell him, he laughs. My reason for sharing, it’s nice to be nice. 

There are such deeds in the world that have become a bit of a phenomenon. The ‘Pay it Forward’ movement is really quite special. It’s popular in coffee shops in particular. When paying for your tall skinny decaf latte you add a couple of pounds to the bill and the next person gets their drink free. With the reminder to pay it forward. I’d like to think that the zoo donut lady paid it forward at some point in time, but also don’t like to think of telling someone to do it. I didn’t do it because it was on my mind to do something that day, it was a spontaneous thought, and that meant something to me too. And one less donut.

It’s often when we are thanked for something we’ve done, an unconscious act of ‘nice’ that we realise its power. I have a 12 year old niece who I haven’t seen a lot recently. Covid, life, geography. She’s always been quiet, loves to read like me and is going through a tough time at school. Only recently was I told this. A few weeks ago, she popped up on my personal Instagram feed as ‘someone you may know’. I hit the follow button and sent a message asking how she was. It felt rude not to, to be honest. I wouldn’t add anyone to my online ‘social’ circle unless I actually planned to have a conversation with them. It’s one of the biggest reasons I delete people. If we don’t talk, what’s the point? We had the briefest of all chats and that was that. Fast forward to last week and my niece’s mum gives me a call. We’re chatting away, catching up after a long absence of calls since Christmas and she stops to thank me for messaging my niece. I’m taken back to be honest. It was just a hello and how are you. However it turns out things have been difficult recently, she’s been withdrawn at home and school and very quiet. The night after we spoke, she was very chatty and smiley and her mum felt more relaxed than she had been in months. Not knowing this, I said that it really was nothing, I just wanted to say hello. And I was told that it had made all the difference in the world. That my niece felt seen and not forgotten. I won’t lie, that hit me in the heart with a different kind of ouch. I know what it feels like to feel alone, I’m not alone, but my anxiety makes me feel isolated. I know the joys of someone reaching out because they want to. Not because they’re fulfilling a duty or checking up on you. Sometimes it’s the unconscious acts that make the biggest impacts.

In the autumn of 2013, Mr W’s sister, my now sister-in-law, had a major car crash. She was taken to Whitechapel hospital in London. Working in London at the time meant I could travel easily from work, meet MR W on the station platform and see her for a few hours. At this point we’d only met a handful of times and I still felt like the new kid on the block. One particular evening Mr W had to travel for work, so I went alone. Unannounced. I took magazines, sweets, food and my dry sense of humour. All the things I would want in that situation. I only stayed an hour or so. My sister in law is a loved lady and had other visitors arrive after me. I went home and thought nothing of it. It’s what you do. Fast forward to our engagement, there’s talk of me becoming an official family member and how I had fit into the family from the start. I had made quite an impact on my sister in law. Dumbfounded, I asked why. Back then, and even today 9 years later, my sister in law would talk about my solo visit to the hospital and what it meant to her. She said it showed I cared,not just for Mr W but for his family. I shrug it off. It’s what you do. Someone you love, someone you care about, someone who needs you. You are there. It. Is. What. You. Do. 

I think about these moments and others when I’m sad, upset and anxious. It makes me feel better. It puts me in my place. It grounds me. I don’t know why. I don’t do anything to be seen or heard. I do it because it costs nothing to be nice, well maybe the price of a donut, but it literally doesn’t have to cost a thing. Whether the lady paid if forward. Whether I got told about my niece. And even if I was told of my sister in law’s gratitude. It makes no difference to whether I, we, everyone should be a little nicer. The reward should be secondary. It’s a selfless act. I’m no saint. No one is. But just because we’re not saints, doesn’t mean we’re automatically sinners. Maybe we can be floating in the middle. Being nice. Eating naughty donuts. And sending a hello out into the world. 

You never know who might need it. 

Validate you

When I get together with friends, I’ll always have news to catch up on. That’s the way it works right? Work. Family life. Love. Loss. The bad and the good. More often than not, I have a small collection of stories I have to share. As the saying goes, a problem shared is a problem halved. Joy that is spread, just multiplies that joy in my opinion. Not only does getting together with loved ones entertain the soul it cools a boiling pot of emotion. When I find myself ready to tell my story to friends, I have a small voice in my head telling me that I’m self-indulging in their kind words, hugs and nods of understanding. The small voice grows louder as I approach their front door, as I accept a cup of tea and it even starts screaming as soon as someone says, ‘And how are you?’. I often wonder if my tales are important to tell. Why should my problems and woes command their attention when their problems should go first, or be spoken louder or longer than my own?

During the pandemic, during its most terrible and confusing moments, I felt unable to share how very bad my anxiety had gotten. People were dying, people were grieving, kept apart for months at a time wondering when and if they’d see their loved ones again. How did brain rattling anxiety compare? I felt anxious about catching covid, I worried about my loved ones and the world became a very scary place. I honestly thought people would band together more, I sometimes thought of the stories from WW1 and 2, about milkmen that still delivered to houses that were more rubble than homes. In such big ways, people did so much to help others, the children in the school playground singing loud so the nursing home residents next door didn’t feel alone is just one amazing example. This shouldn’t be dimmed by the few that were selfish and were fighting against the rules. But they were out there, and when you have anxiety you’ll often see the one bad person in a crowd of amazing people. 

It’s all too easy to be consumed by how personal feelings affect us when we are shut inside our own homes with no view of the outside world. It is all too easy to text someone and try to convey feelings, make a phone call and try to explain, but ultimately it’s when a friend is in front of you when the mask may slip and it becomes all too obvious that there’s more to the story. Unfiltered, unshrouded truth. And yet there’s a barrier to be found when you feel that your problems are tiny compared to others. Invalidation of feelings.

It was during 2021 that I started exploring the concept of how invalidating your own feelings can be dramatically damaging to your mental health. The most selfish way of explaining it is this: only you feel how you feel, it is happening to you and no one else. You can’t feel how someone else feels and vice versa. 

The more rounded way of describing this is likening it to a physical injury. A papercut is tiny. It slices the skin in an irritating way and stops hurting almost as fast as it happened. Now imagine the first time you got a papercut, you’d think what the actual hell was that! Now imagine the hundredth time, maybe you shrug it off, maybe you don’t. Maybe you catch it later on, snagging it and reminding you of the irritation. Maybe you forget about it and cook dinner and get some lemon, chilli, salt in it. Each situation produces a different response, from different people. Some people are more thick skinned than others and some people bleed like from a tap. 

A closer look at pain, makes me think of pain management in hospitals. They don’t see someone rolled up on a stretcher with a broken leg and categorise it as a 5/10. They ask each person. ‘On a scale of 1-10, how is your pain?’ This is down to how differently each patient can handle pain. If you were to punch me right now, I’d cry, from shock, from a new trauma and then the pain. If you were to punch Mr W, well first you’d have to run and second he’d shrug it off. We have vastly different histories when it comes to that kind of treatment. So why is it more acceptable in society to understand an individual’s tolerance to pain and not understand someone’s sensitivity to their own mental health?

I’ll say this, the pandemic opened up conversations about mental health and for that I am grateful. I’ll also be one of the first to tell anyone out there that their feelings no matter what. Invalidating your own feelings in favour of someone else does not push your feelings aside and out of the way, it pushes them down where they’ll rise to the surface again to harm you once more. It is compassion that dictates the invalidation we put upon ourselves. Where this can be a kindness to others you are doing damage to yourself. And it needs to stop. Once you start to look on others with more kindness than yourself, pushing the nurturing smile to your face and the care into your eyes, you are taking it away from yourself. Believe it or not, you have enough in you to care for both yourself and others. By looking after yourself and validating YOU, you’ll find yourself a mentally stronger person and in a perfect position to be stronger for others. Win win, right?

I know there is so much pain in this world, so much lost, so much feared and felt. I hope we learn to love as fiercely as ever. To protect. To nourish. To heal. Starting with ourselves first. Giving ourselves the changes we deserve. That the world deserves. You’ll never know how much you can change the world, until you change your world. Protect your mind. Nourish your feelings. Heal your heavy heart. Validate you. 

“My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?” ― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com/