My Blog Bubble

I originally published this post on 13 December 2016, a year before my son was born, and four years ago today.  I thought, with the anniversary of Mum's death on the horizon, and with losing two friends to this disease in recent times I would re-publish these posts (minus the fundraising bits for Pancreatic Cancer). I thought long and hard about writing something knowing Mum doesn't like to talk about these things.  However I think that everyone now knows and, being selfish: for me this is cathartic. Much like my #100SadDays blog I don't want this to be all doom and gloom.  I want to talk about how it has made me feel and how it has affected everyone; including my beautiful mum. I have written about #cancer before; it isn't a new subject for me.  I have spoken freely about how I feel about it and how it has affected both me, my family and my friends. I have said that it doesn't "touch" people as so often is coined: it rapes and kills and blights...

Here is a little insight for you. Tonight we managed to pop out for a beer before getting the kids and after doing the horse.  Whilst there I had two whole beers and chatted to other people in the pub. I then spent the entire journey home having to remind myself that people don’t want to talk to me.  I am fat I am boring.  I am ugly  I am repetitive.  I am a let-down and a useless Mum.   So do I stop having beer; going out, or being me?

I simply cannot remember the last time I wrote a Christmas letter - a tradition I had started and planned to continue throughout my life.  Not only was it a toast to Mum (she always wrote a great Christmas Letter) but people always liked to recieve them. Well somewhere along the way I stopped doing them.  I know I have posted one as a blog post before and here I am again.  It isnt the easy way out but it is a more environmental option (and a good one for someone without access to a printer)!  My reason for stopping in the past was that I felt I didnt really have very much to say; my letters always seemed to say the same thing - there was always a drama with work (and this year is no different).  However 2020 has been a year that no one will forget and as such I thought I should commemerate it with the return of the Crimbo letter! Just before Christmas last year Alex, the kids and I moved in together to a lovely house in Farnignham.  It meant that Christmas ...

As a teenager we lived next door to a lady with depression.   She and her husband were lovely people, they would always stop and chat, but sometimes she would retreat and we wouldn't see her for months. Instead we would only see Ernie on his daily walk. Then suddenly she would be back beside him with long hair (Gladys always had short hair). I didn't really take much notice but can remember my mum commenting about Gladys and her long hair meaning she had been depressed.   Now, looking back, I can see how they were connected. How Glady wouldn't want to leave the house and thus her hair would grow and she would look unkempt when she did reappear. I get it now. Growing up depression wasn't really something I knew much about. I know members of my family have suffered with it but it just kind of passed me by. After all we all have sad days or  short periods. Well that's what I thought. Just get on with it. Keep smiling.   However my short periods would get longer...

 I was driving along this morning feeling rather down in the mouth (odd saying) and thinking about what Christmas is going to look like for Joe Public and all the local businesses.  I realised it is going to be so different and hopefully something we won't have to experience again in our lifetime.  It also got my thinking about what it feels like to be in lockdown. And that is when I realised that being in a period of depression is like being in Tier 3; there are people next door going about their lives in Tiers 1 & 2 and then there is you.  Locked up with no idea when it will end.  Not able to go out and have fun.  Not able to do what other "normal" people can do.  It isnt like lockdown - as that is soemthing everyone is put through; this is just for you; your own little Tier courtesy of your mind.   I know it sounds daft but so many people cannot understand mental health problems and even those that have them find it difficult to explai...

Take things day by day they say. Sometimes that can be a struggle. Taking things hour by hour also seems too difficult. I try to deal with things as they come along and so today I thought I'd blog about my first thought when I wake: Always: is it a weekend (no work, time with family and friends)?  If not then I know I need to battle with myself to get out of bed.  I know everyone hates getting up. For me it isn't so much that I hate it it's more that I just cannot seem to do it as I know what lies ahead: another day.  If I get up I have to accept the fact I need to shower and get dressed, get Eliza up and dressed, drop her off and go to work, all before I can come home again to my place of "safety". The task of what I am going to wear overwhelms me sometimes and I cannot get out of bed without having a clear plan of action. If a chosen garment isn't clean then my plan crumbles and so do I. Silly isn't it?  How can something so small affect...

They used to say that 1 in 4 people would be touched by cancer - now I know that might be an old and out of date statistic - but it has always stuck with me. Scary as it is the bit that gets me is the touched part; cancer doesn't touch; it devastates, it rapes, it hounds, it kills people. Cancer casts a far-reaching shadow that lasts longer than the disease itself. A touch is a caring thing. One in four will be affected - this doesn't provide enough depth. Cancer be it affecting you directly, or a loved one, does so much more than anyone knows - until it happens.  I am a firm believer that cancer has been around for years and that in the past many of the people that were recorded of dying of natural causes or old age actually died of some form of cancer or another. It is just that nowadays we know it's name - or we have given this monster a name. Maybe it it nature's way of culling us, but does it need to be so cruel, so brutal? Cancer doesn't care how old...

Everywhere I look I am seeing posts about #100HappyDays. Or posting three #positive things a day. Even I have been sucked in and am partaking in the daily challenge of finding something that made me smile, taking a photo, and posting in to my Instagram (@LuluSLR) account. I am only on day 3 and found Day 2 a struggle. Why?  I suffer with #depression and my least favourite day of the week is a Thursday.  Anyhow I got there and posted a photo of my daughter doing her impression of Elsa from #Frozen. Doing this got me thinking about why I chose to take part. I thought it would be good for me, make me find something to smile about, even when I don't want to. However it made me think I should do the same for what makes me #sad. This is less about photos and more about words after all who wants to see my miserable face everyday!  Especially when the things that make me feel down are often in my head.  I am going to blog on what it's like to live with #depressio...