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 decorations were limited and

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