The best thing ever?

Sometimes, when I read back the words I have written in the past, both recent and distant, I often find myself surprised at just exactly, what I have managed to put into words. I can only guess that it is like everything else about myself, I have little faith in my ability, in this case, the ability to get across the true feelings and emotions, of what it means to be ill. Emotions have never been my strong point, yes, I feel them, just as you do, but I haven’t always been the best at showing them, and absolutly rubbish, when it comes to talking about them. What shocks me, is somehow I can put them into words, words that hold their power, even long after I’ve forgotten ever writing them. I’m not saying that I am a great writer, no, not even I can that be conceited, something all of us suffer from at times, it’s more along the lines that I am shocked at my ability to even make myself cry, both out of pleasure and from all too often, almost visible pain. It was in childhood that I learned to hide the extremes of emotion, then slowly, also the everyday ones. Emotions weren’t to be seen, only blind obedience, contrition and feigned happiness when tears felt more appropriate. I used to spend hours in front of my mirror working on that perfectly blank and serene expression, which somehow always failed when it was most needed. By adulthood, I had my emotions so well under control, that even I thought myself, cold at times. I suppose my habit of writing at speed and without great thought, just letting the words flow, means I tap into the true me, the one that was always there. In a way, I think it could be a good exercise for anyone to try. Trust me, the real you will appear right there before your own eyes, but remember, you can’t plan a single word of it, just the first line of each paraghraph, then let your mind run.

It is one of those wonderfully warped things about my illness, that tears now accompany almost anything. Let my brain sense even the tiniest speck of stress, and my eyes start to leak in a way that is impossible to stop or conceal. Chronic illness is probably one of the most warped things that can happen to anyone. Not even the cruelest mind in existence, could have come up with a better way of stripping away every learned behaviour, ever speck of self-control, to produce a more intense lesson in self. We all like to think that we know ourselves, you don’t, unless, you too are living with one or more of these monsters. They make you expose so many differing aspects of our personality, from our strengths to our greatest weaknesses, that self discovery is impossible to avoid. I never thought of myself as strong. I had had too many things happen to me, where others had taken control of me, when in my book, a strong person would have stopped them, and escaped their influence, that clearly, I wasn’t strong. So much had happened to me in the first half of my life, that proved to me, that everything they told me I was, had to be right. That is the problem with controlling people, they slowly chip away at you, diminishing every aspect of you, and you are left, a shadow of yourself, and so scared of that shadow, you even try to hide that. Like many, I thought that chronic illness would be the same. The images we are fed of frail people, no longer in control of their own lives, seemed all too familiar to me. It seemed so ironic, that I had spent so many years rebuilding myself, only for my health to turn on me, and I was once more facing domination.

I can’t find, or explain, what happened inside of me. I had spent so many years defending myself, and so many more putting right all the wrongs, that something, somewhere took the decision, that this time, it wasn’t going to be the victim. The other day on twitter, I replied to a tweet by saying something along the lines of, “PRMS wasn’t the end, in fact, it was the beginning of me”. I say along the lines of, as I can’t remember the exact words, but I remember the earth cracking truth I felt inside, as I read it back, before I clicked send. As I have said many times, words tumble off the ends of my fingers, direct from some odd point in my brain, that I don’t control. They just appear. The basic me, has always been there, I’m not saying that I became a totally new person, but that tweet was totally true. For the first time in my life, I was facing something that wasn’t going to deceitfully take over my life, this time, I was forewarned. Everything that I had inside me, all that rebuilding, starting over and over, had given me a grounding, for what was to be my future. But the final difference, took time to appear, and that, was this. All those things that I wasn’t “allowed” to let out, could pour out of me, clearly, without being shrouded in any way. Writing was my final salvation, my opertunity to learn to truly be me.

What you read here, isn’t just a description of my life, or just my health, what you read here, is me. The total me, the me, that I might even go as far, as saying, I don’t think even Adam is always aware of, well not until he too, reads it. Probably even more surprisingly, it’s also a me, that I’m not always aware of either. I’m not cold, I never have been, I just learned to appear that way. I’ve always cared passionately about everything and everyone. In an odd way, I am actually glad that I became ill, because, it has taught me so much about myself, about my life, my strengths, and weaknesses, and most weren’t what I thought. Best of all, there all here to remind me, whenever I forget, life long training doesn’t disappear over night. Being ill, could be one of the most positive things that could have happened to me, as a person. It’s a truly hard way to learn, but I’m glad that I have had the oppertunity to, as otherwise, I might have missed it all.


Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 03/01/2014 – Step by step

And normality returns, well I like to think it does. With Adam now back at work and the house no longer filled with foods that no matter how tempting they are, really aren’t good for anyone, there is a feeling of……

Disabled by people

It doesn’t matter how much they love us, or we love them, it is inevitable that at some point in any relationships, one or both will do something to hurt the feelings or the other. Add in chronic illness and it’s not only inevitable, it is unavoidable. There could be loads of reasons as to why this happens, but what matters the most is that it’s dealt with and we all move on. The reason that I have heard the most puts the onus on us, the ones who are ill, as we are supposed to become more emotionally sensitive, to the actions of other. Although there may be some truth in this, and undoubtedly, when you are in increased pain, things are said that probably shouldn’t be, just ask anyone who has had a baby about that one, but I think it actually goes a lot deeper, and mainly in the opposite direction. There is one undoubted fact, people in general, don’t know how to act around or interact with, those who are chronically ill or those who are disabled. For some reason, that I can’t put my finger on, other than a total lack of understanding or applied thought, they feel they have to act differently and totally miss the most important fact, we are still people, the people we have always been.

Adam and I have only been together for 2 years longer than I have been diagnosed with PRMS. In the 14 years since then, I am sure that almost daily we have annoyed each other almost equally, but clearly, I this post isn’t about who is hogging the remote control today. When you suddenly become ill in the eyes of others, which is what happens the second that you get a diagnosis, it subtly changes ever single conversation or act, from that second on. Most of it is well-intentioned and often quite sweet and helpful, but occasionally, it makes you want to scream. Normally, when you actually do, they are totally lost and look at you as though you have fallen off the Christmas tree, as they have no idea what the problem is, or there even was one. Which is exactly what happened the other evening just after, we had been to the kitchen to sort out my night time meds. For over a year now, Adam has now been responsible for all my meds. I have made so many mistakes, that I asked for his help, so I didn’t spend another night crying and unable to work out why I was in so much pain, simply because I had muddled up my meds yet again. Eight o’clock arrived and he jumped up picking up his boots that would have otherwise blocked me from getting to the door in my wheelchair. He danced around the living room shifting other things, that didn’t need touching, then he did this odd little body swerving act at speed so that he, could get to the kitchen first. Funnily enough, I can switch lights on and get into the room without out him preparing the whole journey for me. As I was entering the kitchen, he once more jumped out of what he thought was my way, then he did this odd act with the bottle of coke he was holding, as he thought that somehow he was once again in my way. The whole thing meant that I landed up running into the kitchen cabinet, which if he had just acted towards my presence as he would have done when I was on my feet, wouldn’t have happened. He has been doing this odd behaviour ever since I have been back in my wheelchair, and it annoys the hell out of me.

No matter how well intended these odd actions are, they came across to me, as highly patronising, rather than helpful. In fact, his desperation to help had once again made my life harder. His distracting behaviour meant I didn’t pay full attention to the line I was taking to enter the kitchen. Catching my wheels on the cabinet, meant I was caught and getting free, took ten times as much effort, than my normal gliding entrance would have. I know perfectly well that they aren’t intended that way, but that evening was the final straw and I simply had to tell him how I felt and ask him to stop it. I waited for a few minutes after we had returned to the living room, then made sure that I was relaxed and that my voice wasn’t going to come across in any other way than what it was, a genuine plea from the heart. Just as I expected, he wasn’t really aware of what he was doing, and especially not, of how it came across. He thought that he was just being helpful, trying to make my life easier as is his way.

Throughout nearly all the time I have been ill, it doesn’t matter whether you know the person, or if they are a total stranger, they all forget the most obvious thing, we are still capable people most of the time. Yes, if we are clearly in increased pain, or struggling, then help is more than appreciated. But when we are our “normal” selfs, the people who manage all day long, without someone dancing around in front of us preparing the ground we are about to travel on, all that is needed, is to treat us as humans. Our health may have stolen nearly everything from us, but that is the one thing it hasn’t touched, yet.

For some reason, once we are visibly ill, the world suddenly treats us totally differently. For many of us, it is the day that pick up a walking stick, that we first see the change in others. Suddenly they do nice things, things they wouldn’t have done for us before, like offering us a seat on the bus. Don’t get me wrong, that seat is truly appreciated, but they also start doing odd things, things that don’t quite make sense, other than we are no longer, quite human. Doors and chairs, I get, but light switches, moving furniture that’s not even in our way, doing things we are more than capable of doing without assistance, they may be thoughtful and nice, but day after day, week after week, we are slowly disabled by others. I felt exactly the same thing happening at work as I have at times with Adam, I have felt it when I was out on my own or even when others, people overcompensate. Our bodies are already making us slowly disabled, but it is people, who disable us even further and faster. All it takes is a quick question, “Do you need help with that?”. Some do ask, and I almost bet, they are the ones who have lived with a disabled person, or watched a grandparent, slowly go down hill. They are the people who understand that our independence isn’t just required, it’s vital.

When I spoke to Adam, I asked him quite simply, “Would you have done that if I were on my feet?”, his answer was, “No, I guess I wouldn’t.” Since when, I have been human again. For all of us, the time will come when every second of care will not just be nice, but needed, but our independence is vital, even if that independence is simply turning on a light by ourselves. I don’t think that wanting to be treated as a person, means that we are emotionally sensitive. If someone does explode or throw you a scowl when you rush across a room to open a door for them, put yourself in on their wheels, and think what your actions might have looked like to them. Oh and next time, just ask.


Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 13/12/2013 – Image destroyer

Since Tuesday I have been meaning to call the doctors for a repeat prescription, I have been blaming my memory again for letting me down but when I called this morning and as soon as I heard the…..



It’s messy

I knew that I would pay for it, but not quite as quickly or dramatical as I did. By 1 pm, I was in pain, real pain, my guts were telling me that it didn’t want all that stuff, I had given it. It might have been tasty, but by then, that, was forgotten, and my emergency visit to the loo, made my memory of it, even less lovely. It’s always the same if I eat too much all at one time, or within a very few hours. My insides for over a year now has worked on the principle that it has only so much space, so, what goes in, has to be balanced by the same amount out. No problem there you might think. Wrong. My insides now work about ten times slower than anyone else’s I have ever known. From mouth to gone, takes 14 days, relieved once every two days, the final one, is normally 12 hours of a dull ache, with the odd spell of intense reminders that it doesn’t work in a straight line. But I had overloaded the system on the entry side, pain, pain, pain, then run, or, however, you translate that on wheels. Just to prove that I really don’t learn, later, I did it all over again. Cramming in four slices of streaky bacon and two fried eggs, at the time of day, that I would normally, slowly, eat a small bowl of nuts. It, didn’t like that much either. No run to the loo, just discomfort right through the remainder of the day. Oh! I love life!

I guess, that, today, has to be back to normal, routine, has to reign. I go through this kickbacks every now and then. It’s not so much a “Why me?”, as that’s a truly stupid reason, it’s more “Give me a break”. Health is relentless, days fold into each other, and time never seems to be on our side. In some ways, it is the next step on, from the picture grid on the “sticky post” on the first page of my blog. The final picture in the grid is someone lying asleep in bed, beside a table, that is full of drugs, the step on from that would be where I am now. To put it into a picture, I think would be impossible. You would be looking at a thousand different faces, each showing a different expression. It isn’t just boredom or frustration with life; it’s not depression or giving up; nor is it anger or grief; even confusion and annoyance doesn’ t cover it; as it a touch of all of them all; with a huge measure, of just wanting to scream “Let me out of here!” Most of the time, life is fine, more than fine, but then this pop’s up, gnawing away at you until you just explode inside. Despite the fact that humans are creatures of habit, we are also worn down by it. I think I can give you a glimpse of it, from your own memories. If you think back to when you were a child, and you were off school, as it was the summer holidays. It has been raining for a couple of days and all you want, is to go out, with your friends, but your mum, wouldn’t let you. Remember how that felt. Mum was the enemy, the weather, an even bigger one, and life just wasn’t fair on every level. Then to just make things worse, you asked for fish-finger for lunch, what you got was a burger. It is all those pent up childhood emotions, on steroids and multiplied by a thousand, but not aimed at the petty, it’s aimed at the essential. I’m right now screaming for freedom, not just from my home, but from everything about my life.

If I had made it all the way through the past 8 years without feeling this at all, then, I would be a truly exceptional person. The fact, that I have been here before, means that I know that it passes. For a few days, I am going to be unsettled, fidgety and desperate to do something, anything, that I haven’t done in the past 8 years. Logically, that is impossible. Right now, logic isn’t my friend, if it was, I wouldn’t have eaten what I did yesterday, I knew what would happen, but I still had to do it, just as I had to get out of my chair and walk the other day. The driving emotion was different, but the actual base feeling was identical. No one wants to feel that their life is actually a prison, far worse than it would have been if they had been physically locked up, as you can’t argue with iron bars. My bars are different, maybe not made of iron, and yes, every single one of them, is invisible, but in so many ways, far worse and I did nothing wrong. When feelings like this appear, it makes every part of life difficult, in some ways, because they are just feeling, even harder. They aren’t things that talking about, will make better. Talking is about finding solutions, but there are no solutions to feelings, their just there, annoying you constantly. Experience tells me, that all I have to do is be patient and they will calm down, become fussy and eventually forgotten.

I don’t know if it is because of my health, or if it just the way that human brains work, but, I’ve noticed that I forget quickly. If, it wasn’t for this blog, there are so many feelings and sensations that I have gone through, that I wouldn’t remember. Often when I read a back post, I find myself somewhat alienated from it, as though I am reading someone else’s words. Clearly there is recognition of whatever it was, but the words, the finer points and the small details, I will have forgotten. Just as I recognise how I’m feeling, if you had asked me to describe it a month ago, it would have been vague, somewhat beige and lifeless. Have I forgotten, or is it just my mind protecting me from the worst of everything, just holding a mark, rather than a scar?

Today, well today, is going to be about bringing back the lighter brighter me. It’s going to be about adding the colour, the depth and the vigour, I’ve wallowed too long. We all have to wallow at times, but as long as we can call a halt, turn it around and push it back in its box, there is nothing to worry about. My fatigue and pain levels are high, so it’s going to have to be a gentle kick up the backside, but it has to be a kick hard enough, to push me in the right direction. I believe totally, that every part of our health can be and is, to some extent, under our control. In some ways, the last few days prove that I have stopped doing what I should and I’m paying for it. Mental or physical, we play a role in just how bad or good things are. I know all about relaxation, posture and mood, each plays a role. I dropped them all a few days ago and it time to pick them up again, it’s time to work on putting things right. That’s the problem with wallowing, as much as we need to do it, it’s hard work fixing the mess that the mud makes. It won’t be instant, but the wet-wipes are now out.


Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 20/11/2013 – More on the list

Yesterday’s surprise of getting an earlier appointment wasn’t the only one, not long after I completed my post the phone rang and it was a call I had been waiting 4 or 5 weeks for. I have called the practise…..

A little understanding

What is it about humans that we insist on making our lives more complicated than needed. I became of a small error caused by shifting from one site to another, the links in my old posts, of course, don’t work any longer. I had this mad idea that I could correct one page a day, as I work through adding the links to my post from 2 years ago that are at the bottom of every daily post. It is a total nightmare! I can’t find most of them now and it has made a mockery of some of the subjects as they rely on the links to make sense. It won’t matter until January, as the old site is still there just now, but once it closes, none will work any longer. I thought that blogging was supposed to be a relaxing and soothing process. Somewhere that I could de-stress, sort out my head and set off with a smooth start to my day, not a bundle of aggravation. I guess it was one of those not so bright, bright ideas.

Adam has just left for the day. Odd for a Saturday, but it is his mother’s birthday, so Adam and his sister are spending the day with her. I am very fond of both his mother and his sister. They welcomed me into their family without question. Something that I don’t think all families would have done when their 20-year-old son brought home his new girlfriend who was 17 years older than him. I was simply welcomed in and became part of the family almost instantly. When a couple of months later we announced we were getting married, they were delighted. Once my health deteriorated and getting out and about was not quite so easy, I became used to being left out of all family celebrations. It was my choice really as they did at first make a point of coming here once I wasn’t up to trailing all over the place. Unfortunately, his family have never seemed to understand the concept of time. At first it was just them being late on arriving and wanting to stay long past the time I should have been asleep. Then on one occasion, a few years before I was totally housebound, I had invited them for Christmas lunch, they arrived 4 hours late. I declared to Adam that I was never inviting them here again for any meal. I expected Adam to be on their side and I was ready for the excuses, the reasoning as to why I was wrong, there were none. He totally understood and actually felt the same way. He knew exactly how much work and planning had gone into that meal. He knew I had started to cook and prepare everything days before and he too had put in a lot of work towards it. He had seen the struggle that some of it took and how much pain and fatigue I had put up with, just to get things right. Importantly, he knew what it all did to my health. He knew that I was going to be paying for it for days after as well. Yes, it was my choice to put myself through all that, but that was part of my gift to them, on that day. Although his family knows how ill I am, they don’t live with us or see me day to day. They are really nice people and are caring and loving, but that one instance provided a perfect example of the difference between knowing and understanding.

It has taken my many years to accept that most people, no matter how well they are taught about anything, many can’t make that step over into full understanding. It requires empathy and quite simply, empathy can’t be taught. It may be because I have led what can only be described as a dramatic life, that I find empathy for most situations, incredibly easy. There is one huge problem with that, it is draining and it is often painful. I came across the other day someone complaining about a doctor they had just seen as he had been a little cold and lacking in feeling. I realised from the way they had written their post, that they had missed one simple point. If a doctor or a nurse were to feel true empathy for every patient they saw, they would land up in the mental health department as patients. Clearly we all expect a certain level of “bedside manner”, but to expect anything more than that I think is unreasonable. The medical profession does an incredibly hard job, none of which I would want to do. Our doctors are professionals, not our buddies and I can see that that distance has to be maintained these days. Gone are the days that you invited the family doctor to christenings and weddings and sent them Christmas cards and gifts. They have become more like an oil mechanic who you respect for their knowledge but don’t want to hug. It’s almost impossible from that one post I read to work out the sort of person who was actually writing. But there is one factor that comes into our interactions with doctors I think was missed, the way we present ourselves.

I knew someone years ago who felt the only way to get a doctor to do what they thought was needed, was to threaten them with legal action. He took great pleasure in telling them how his father was a top lawyer, in the position to squash them if they didn’t get it right there and then. On one occasion they complained to me about the attitude of the doctor, they had found them slightly aggressive, I wasn’t surprised. Just like family, we expect our doctors to understand. Surely, they, if there is anyone, has to be the one person who knows what we are going through. I disagree. I along with many other women I have met, actually believe that midwives shouldn’t be allowed to practise until they have had a baby themselves. There is something incredibly annoying about having someone standing there telling you it doesn’t hurt or it’s easy, just push a little more or worse don’t push at all, when they themselves haven’t done it.

Everyone who has a chronic illness seems to have one thing in common, we want to be understood. We aren’t looking for people who pity us, we’re not asking to be waited on hand and foot, we just want understanding. We’re looking for almost the impossible to find. The only ones with a chance of understanding us are those who have the same illness or those who live with us 24/7. Even those who share our condition, might not fully understand as there are so many variations, phases and combinations, make that almost impossible as well. We might share symptoms, lifestyle and aids, but that doesn’t mean we understand fully the effect on another individual, as we haven’t led their lives and we’re not them. Understanding isn’t found in books, it doesn’t come from hearing about it, I don’t think it fully comes from even living alongside us. Adam is amazing, I couldn’t ask for a better husband or carer, but even he at times doesn’t fully understand what I am going through. We can’t expect others to just look at us and know how we are. Our attitude at that second of time only shows that second, not our lives. It is yet one more thing we have to deal with, one more change that we have to make to ourselves, but it is up to us to teach all of them as well as we can. It is up to us to empathise with them if we want them to empathise with us.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago – 08/08/2013 – Adding the hours

I woke yesterday evening, yes I said evening. I was woken by Adam when he came home from work at 6pm, I hadn’t set the alarm as I really thought that I wouldn’t sleep very long, wrong! But it put to test my what if, if I slept longer…….

Judgement day 1

…….but how many do I allow for. This is it, I am free of all extra drugs and it is now up to my body to do the work that they have been helping with. I have always hated this point in any illness, it feels as though someone has come along and whipped everything away just for a laugh. Having spent unknowingly the majority of my life with an autoimmune system that is playing by its own rules, all bugs have been hit or miss. I have lost count how many second rounds of antibiotics I have landed up having to take and the colour of what I am coughing up doesn’t fill me with inspiration. On the good side, I managed to go from around 10 pm last night right through until 6:30 this morning without coughing. Even Adam said that I was amazingly silent, no wheezing nothing. Since I woke unable to take a silent breath, I haven’t stopped coughing and the flow is impressive, plus odd, to say the least. All I can do is wait and see and if things show the slightest sign of closing in again, acting straight away.

Everything about today is about getting myself and my life back to a more normal pace and something closer to my routine. I say closer, as I am still in two minds about whether or not it needs changing. I know that my struggling with it could be nothing more than the exacerbation just slowly taking hold, but I can’t be sure. The one thing that I don’t want to find is myself wallowing under a pile of things that feel like they are about to bury me. This last week I stripped everything down to a minimum, enough to let people out there know that I was still alive, but little enough not to tax myself too much. My intention is to step things back up slowly and to allow within it how I feel each day, rather than the rigid this is what I have to do everyday. I know that it is the only way I have worked throughout my life, a constant rolling “To Do” list, but maybe it’s time to make it more a maybe list. It is one of the hardest things to get used to once your health is breaking down. None of us ever want to believe that we are doing too much, we are always capable of more. Having to let go of things, is hard. It doesn’t even change with the size of the task. I doesn’t matter whether it is stopping working or doing the housework or doing twenty minutes more on twitter, they all hurt. Every tiny step downwards is just that, a step that says, you are closer to death than you want to think about.

I realised a while ago that I had to change more than just what I was doing, there was a much bigger task, how I thought about things. How can anyone take two days to file their fingernails? Both hands on one day had somehow become too much and a task that if I look at it that way, just didn’t get done. Slowly those nails grew and grew until they were in danger of breaking, it was only when they did, that I did something about them. So incredibly silly as odd broken nails don’t make you feel good. I had to change how I saw that one task, I had to break it into pieces that let me cope with it and feel good about it, which isn’t that easy. I had to somehow accept that one hand on one day, the other the next, means I can achieve without feeling totally useless. Five nails filed over several hours, repeated for the second hand the next day. If I let myself think of it as pathetic, well that was just how I felt. By switching it around, achieving all the way, one nail at a time, I now have a task that doesn’t daunt me, scare me or even put me off doing it. I am not going to say that it is suddenly a total joy and I am proud of myself for getting it done, but “I” do it and that is the important bit. Even in the last week when Adam has never truly been far from me at any waking minute when my independence was possible, it was important.

Every time that I have gone through the process or reassessing and readjusting to my abilities, it is tough. The biggest thing I have learned from all of them is that feeling of independence and achievement have to be met, without them, it doesn’t work. I know without any doubt that these changes in my life are a long way from over. This first true exacerbation has shown me what my body has lain out for me in the future, it’s one of those hard things to get your head around that that wasn’t it, it’s going to happen and happen again. Life has taught me that when things happen again, they are inclined to also get worse, which in itself is scary. To survive them, I will need an even more flexible routine but still one that I can recognise as one. I never realised when I was diagnosed with any of my conditions, just how much of my future was going to be spent playing psychological games with myself. I am discovering more and more that those games are essential, how I see and feel about things is far more important than the pain or even the lack of oxygen. Anyone can take a tablet or hitch themselves up to an oxygen cylinder. Feeling bad about it, won’t have anything like the benefits that can be found when you can convince yourself it’s where you want not just need to be. I spend every day throwing tablets down my throat, I used to hate every single one of them. It isn’t just a case of getting used to taking them or the relief that they bring, there is now a positive feeling within me rather than the reluctance and even hatred that I felt for them at first. That one I take no credit for, it was something my brain did for me, but it is the same feeling that I can now reproduce for myself, in time, for all the hurdles jumped over or waiting to trip me up.

The most stupid thing I have ever had said to me by the majority of people is “You have to stay positive”. You can not make yourself be positive, if you don’t feel it, you can’t create it. Positive is a collection of things that come together, but we have to create all the elements ourselves. Control, achievement, independence and ability, are the major ones, with loads of tiny specks of others around them. Work on each element as its importance appears and that positive feeling about where you are in life does follow, it’s just a lot of work, but what else do I actually have left to do these days, other than make myself feel better.

Read my blog from 2 years ago today – 24/06/13 – Settled and happy again

I have to say that it has been an unexpected weekend, somehow all of this is bringing us closer, the opposite that I thought might happen as I know Adam and I are at other ends of the spectrum. Yet there is a feeling in each kiss and each word that says ‘I love you’ without the words being said, and when spoken the is a new depth that hasn’t been……