A new beginning…

The last few weeks have been tough. A tough conclusion to a really awful and hard year.

Ten years ago I met my best friend, bought (and sold) or homes. Made a loving house and added a beautiful child. 18 months ago we got married and celebrated every event with friends and family. We’ve managed to get over horrible times; deaths, illnesses (our own and others), bloody awful days at work and the standard disappointments of adult life (not getting that job, pay rise etc).

Now we’ve reached an empty stage.
A time where we both need to adapt and prepare for a likely and unpleasant inevitable, separation.

There’s no drama; no affairs, no arguments, no solid reason. Just the honesty that one of us doesn’t feel the same and it isn’t fair on the other.

Neither of us want things to be this way, but equally we have no idea how to get past it.

I believe that when you love somebody you should be honest. It’s not easy, it’s sometimes horrible, but it’s right and respectful.

Nobody ever plans to be a single parent. Nobody wants to leave their child or have them bought up in two different homes.

It isn’t a failure. We haven’t failed at our marriage; it’s just in order for our friendship to continue it needs to be this way.

I’m quite pessimistic and have been told I’m defeatist about myself. My therapist would agree with that.

This new beginning will be tough; emotionally, financially and will make us physically sick.

I often feel I’ve been dealt a duff hand.
To get through anything I have to force myself to believe that God gives the toughest circumstances and challenges to the strongest people

Right now I feel weak as hell, so that better be right.


Being selfish….

Part of my therapy teaches me to be selfish This is amazingly difficult, I never put myself first or even second.

Whenever I am forced to

put my feelings first

I feel awkward and guilty.

I also feel guilty that


feelings have a ripple effect on everyone else. Which makes it much harder to put myself first.

I feel guilty that I still need to bond with my daughter.

Most Mums are lucky. Their baby is delivered and placed in their arms and it’s instant. Most Mum’s cry with joy and elation.

My daughter is amazing! She’s been happy since day one, it’s her nature.
Sometimes I wonder whether all my positivity was given to her when I was pregnant. I still struggle to be with her, one on one. She’s not naughty. It’s an emotional struggle.
Everyone says I have amazing patience with her, that she adores me and wants to be with me all the time.

Prime example. She’s swimming with her Daddy right now, making memories and no doubt doing and saying new things.

Where am I? Outside (writing) pouring my brain and it’s contents into a stupid blog. Missing the moments and the memories and dreading having to be with her (emotionally).

Therapy and medication help. But they haven’t corrected the huge problem that I have; which is, I don’t feel I can do it. That I don’t want to do it all the time. To be a normal Mummy.

It breaks my heart. She doesn’t deserve a crap Mum. This is my selfish guilt.

She was planned and wanted. But the moment I knew I was pregnant everything changed.

I wonder if things would have been different if I hadn’t lost my second pregnancy? For those few weeks I felt so happy and normal.

I know (crazy as it sounds) he was a boy. Right now I’d have an 8mnth old and a 2 1/2yr old. I know what his name would have been. I know I would have been happier and a better Mum.

It’s not anyone’s fault the pregnancy didn’t turn into a beaut and chubby lil boy. It’s no ones fault (other than mine) that my daughter doesn’t have her little brother, Toby.

But it’s my fault that I feel like the crappest Mum ever! It’s 100% my fault she doesn’t get everything (from me) that she deserves.

Taking a few more minutes and then I’ll put in my brave face and play the role of Mumma. Do all the things she wants and grit my teeth (emotionally speaking) and do it for her.

I love other peoples children! I just can’t bond enough with my baby girl.


Walking – Endorphins and space

Sunday afternoons are becoming my regular ‘go for a long walk and walk it out’ time.

It seems to be everyone’s time to do that, so is difficult to be truly on my own (how ever lonely I might feel, I’m not in the ‘lonely’ phase right now though.)

The problem with ‘walking it out’ is that it gives my head space to think, there are no distractions. There’s only so many times I can admire the scenery.

Letting my head ‘think’ recently has been quite confusing. It’s dragged up very old memories that I loved at the time but thought hoped were long forgotten. It also makes my head think about the future. Will it be better? Will it be better AND exactly as it is now? Will tough decisions have to be made? Will it get worse again?

I wouldn’t trade heads with anyone right now. It’s poisonous. The poison seeps into my body and confuses my heart (it also abuses it and makes panic attacks). It disorganises my thoughts and makes me over think.

I love my long walks, the endorphins are better than any prescription drug. It just leaves a bitter after taste in my mind.

Anxiety – The ‘new’ challenge…

I’ve been recently diagnosed with GAD (Generalised Anxiety Disorder) which is a whole different ball game to depression.

Had I realised this was the case I could have saved a lot of stress upset for myself, hubby and friends.

Earworms, wanting to move out, manic energy, tiredness and panic attacks have stolen a good couple of months of this year. Not to mention set me back not only in the case of mental health but in relationships.

I have really frightened my friends, almost lost a best friend and seriously hurt another best friend. Not to mention testing my marriage, which I almost threw away 😥
I never wanted to leave hubby, he is my absolute best best friend. He adores me, provides a wonderful loving nature to us and is a fabulous father to Ruby.

Every experience and journey through my mental health issues forces me to learn negatives but also highlights positives, which I am so grateful for and give me the strength to keep going.


I have amazing friends who I adore! I never want to frighten them. The mother in me wants to love, protect and educate tell them what it’s like. I would never wish them to be in the same position and am so thankful for their patience, kind and honest words. My twitter friends too, their kind DMs and support network is a god send.

My wonderful husband and family. Who put up with me and love me unconditionally. Who help me to do the things I find hardest (seeing my psych) and admitting I’m not well.

Lastly, reconnecting with a wonderful friend whom I loved very dearly and lost touch with years ago.
Text messages, phone calls and generally being there has been a blessing. My friend has had problems too (many I didn’t know about) and been an amazing support over the last few weeks. I’ve never met his beautiful wife or gorgeous daughter, but I feel I know them already and love them too.
They’re lucky to have him, as I am to have Mr J, my friends, daughter and family.

As I continue to work at getting better: take medication, exercise and retrain my thoughts, I can use the strength and love they are giving me xxx

The taboo of abortion…

the guardian

Can a women’s right to choice ever be accepted?

We live in an age where socially we are stripped bare. Social media, blogs and celebrity media is accessible 24 hours a day every day, from anywhere in the world.

Within this age of free speech and immense technology we have created transparent lives. It seems everyone can share all; illness, good fortune, news.

But why in a world where everyone seems to be socially vocal, is a subject like abortion still so taboo? Abortion is not illegal, but why is there a seemingly mass view that it is immoral and wrong?

Having read various media articles and quotations about this most recent argument it is easy to quickly jump to the conclusion; she’s selfish! After all, a child is a precious gift and a real, living thing. It shouldn’t be so frivolously dispensed of and so publicly!

Or should it?…

It made me wonder how many women read it and felt slight relief. That they may have considered or even done the same. Considering and deciding to terminate a pregnancy is hardly an easy decision, there will no doubt be huge ramifications emotionally and potentially physically.

Should women feel guilty for this? And is it now the norm for others to judge and critically analyse a woman’s decision adding to her guilt?

Pregnancies are terminated for many reasons; be it medical and health or because they weren’t wanted in the first place… ‘Convenience’ if you will.

The article also made me wonder another point; why are mothers and pregnant women still treated differently in the working world?
Why is it that a pregnancy (and ultimately a baby) can prevent a woman from furthering her career.

Why is it that some women feel they have to choose?

Surely, if we hold the opinion that abortion is not the right solution in such cases, we also need to question this too.

Week 3 2014: Being grown up

This week I am supposed to do grown up things; was due to spend a day observing 16+ teaching (in an attempt to kick start a potential new career). My Nan’s funeral, at which I am due to present a reading and throw a baby shower for a good friend who’s going to be a Mummy again.

2014 was always going to a hard year.

It would have been the year our second baby arrived and would mark a year in therapy. On a more vain aspect, it will mark our first wedding anniversary and my 30th birthday. I have high expectations for this year, not helped by last year being remembered as a particularly difficult one.

I theory week 3 2014 should have seen the arrival of baby Jones. Although its an awful thing to admit, I am OK with this not being the case. We’ve got on with it. I’ve proactively sold and gifted much of the newborn equipment from the loft, removing the quite literal overhanging possibility of another baby.

Instead of spending Christmas 2013 like I did in 2011, sober and hugely pregnant. I spent it, largely, dashing backwards and forwards to hospital to see my Nan or in glasses of wine.

Wednesday would be Nan’s 89th birthday. Instead Thursday is her funeral. Again, this feels OK (not the same OK as before, but I’m fine about it.)

Today I should have been observing teachers and deciding whether I could do their job. Instead I am home with a poorly toddler. I planned to spend last night going through and practising my ‘professional handshake’, condensing my brief career to a short two line introduction and laying out a fun, yet professional outfit. In actual fact I spent it scrubbing the lounge carpet and holding a towel skilfully under my toddler which trying to comfort her (and her poorly tummy).

Right now I should be de-briefing with senior management and teaching staff. But instead I am blogging and planning dinner, whilst mentally tidying the house. All while poorly toddler naps.

Whilst tomorrow may be unclear (is LO still sick, am I poorly too, am I going to get a call at work to pick her up?) Thursday will be hard and horrible. Friday may be unpredictable (will I be OK? Will I be weird and quiet, or a mute heap in bed?) Saturday I have to be bubbly and fun, brimming with excitement for my friend.

Not sure which day is going to be the hardest. Whilst there s no, clear certainty, what is certain is that it’ll soon be week 4 and week 3 will be over!

Get(ting) over it…

The past few, well several actually, weeks have been hard.

Really bloody hard.

However, this is the best part; coming out off the quiet and crappy bit through to the sunny side. The best thing about the sunny side is the relief knowing that there shouldn’t be any more quiet and crap bits for a while.

At the moment I’m throwing myself into my two current hobbies, Slimming World (which is going marvellously) and up-cycling.

I’m currently painting everything with legs (that doesn’t move) with Annie Sloan chalk paint and upholstering my parker knoll armchair and a sewing box for Ruby…and loving it!

My “Professional Friend”…

It’s not what it sounds like. I realise taken out of context it could sound a bit, well seedy.

I’ve finally bitten the bullet, in actual fact the bitter little pill, and made an appointment with a therapist. I’m not sure whether it’ll work, but maybe my slightly wayward mind should be a little more open to the idea.

My Mother-In-Law claims it’s like having ‘a professional best friend’ Someone to listen to you, coax out information and feelings and who, regardless, will always meet you when you call them (because you’re paying for the privilege).

So, my new friend is called Corinne (pretty name) and has been in the best friends game for 25 years. I’m meeting her on Monday morning.

Generally speaking I feel a bit better today. Am looking forward to being at work tomorrow and hopefully feeling up to the prospect of a noisy, loud and rushed office. Speaking and thinking is easier today, as well as writing.

I still have occasional whims of ‘oh I should really do this or that’ as I have time to myself, but can’t muster the effort.

Still a little way to go yet I think, but getting there.