My Blog Bubble

I am not one that goes in for self help.  Lets be honest I don't really go in for any kind of help.  Reaching out to my doctor last Christmas was a massive step for me.  I have always thought I can do anything on my own and do not need other people's help.  I now know this is not the case and that I shouldn't be embarrassed to ask. Anyhow I have taken to reading about depression, both online and books.  In fact I recently bought a book for me (Ruby Wax) and one for Chris (Living with the Black Dog) as I felt it was time to start to understand this illness a little more.  However I don't seem to get a chance to read it as there is always something going on.  In fact I rarely read books anymore and that used to be something I loved.  The escapism.   It then got me thinking about other things that I have let slip or in fact let go of completely.  Things that used to keep me grounded, happy, normal. I stopped horse riding when...

My Granny used to always say we should paint on our mask. Put on our war paint and confront the day. Ok so I don't trowel on the make up but I always (well nearly always) have a smile on my face and a laugh in my chest.   Sometimes, though, it slips. My smile is lost and the laugh has flown the nest (chest as it were). It may slip for a short time or a more prolonged period however I know that one day it will be back. How I get it back I am never sure.  Maybe it will be something my little girl does that makes my heart melt, or spaghetti bolognese cooked by my boyfriend, a glass of wine with a friend, a cup of coffee, a natter with the mummies or some time with my pole sisters. Whatever wings bring my smile back they are always welcomed with open arms. Who knows how long it will stay. 

There isn't much to indicate that I am approaching my late thirties at an alarming rate: well apart from my date of birth; constant tiredness and the fact that a 25 year reunion of leaving Baring Primary School looms large.  In general people have the decency to act surprised when I tell them I am soon to be 37. Most people I say, apart from my boss, who recently asked when I had turned forty and when I said I was only 36 retorted that I looked much older. Nice! Anyhow age ain't nuthin' but a number and all that. And I wouldn't say that I am yet middle aged (unless I am planning on dying before the age of 75: I know the Government would like me to and will probably have me working until then but that is by the by).... Today I did a headstand and controlled dismount; I did a handstand; and stated a could do a cartwheel (which for the record I can but didn't fancy my chances of not knocking someone over).  I didn't quite manage a shoulder mount but I did do well (...