One Day

hold onto those moments1 769x1024 One Day

Fog so thick that it brushes its back against the windows; cold and undulating and determined to seep through the glass, so thick that it rests on my shoulders and curls into my mouth and drips into my lungs.

Sometimes, even underneath clear blue skies, some things are impossible to (fore)see. But if the fog lifts and the world comes into glorious view all over again; the only thing left to hang in the air is the breath that leaves my body because BAM, when overwhelming Technicolor shines from all that was once black and white it’s enough to suck the words from my mind and the soul from my body.

The moon hangs in the sky and my soul and my spirits sour and dance between the clouds because this is how it feels to be content and happy and happy and content.

Mixtape Monday

mixtapemonday Mixtape Monday

Late on a Sunday night maybe isn’t the time to decide to revive a Monday morning linky is it?

Yeah, well…I’m gonna. There are too many half written posts frustrating me because they’re still waiting to be unleashed via the publish button and too many songs in my head not to.

Anyone remember Mixtape Monday? It’s been a long time but it would be pretty awesome if you felt like linking up and sharing a song here every Monday morning; any song, happy, sad, earworm – just whatever is making you feel or sing or dance or is stuck in your mind on repeat this week.
I miss my weekly mixtape of gloriously varied tracks so here we go again…

Joining in is easy peasy, all you need is a track or a video, write about it if you feel like it, don’t if you don’t, grab the badge up there and then link away down there…Go!

(Can’t Get No) Sleep

Insomnia is the tricksy little creature that hides itself in the shadows and unfurls to taunt me at about 2am every single night. It peels itself from the bedroom wall, all sinewy limbs and long curling fingers and, slowly, it swallows me up.

I’m wide awake except I’m not. My eyes stare but they’re blank because my mind is so, so tired. My thoughts race except they don’t because even they don’t have the energy after so many hours of awakeness.

2am is not the time to mentally right the wrongs of the world. Nor is 3am. Or 4am…

I pull back a corner of the curtain and peer outside at the world, everyone is asleep or in darkness and I stare and I stare. Sometimes a star blinks at me, pulling my glance up over the houses and into the sky. I look at the darkened windows of the old couple that live directly opposite, curtains never fully closed, a vase of fresh flowers always open on the windowsill. I look at the house on the corner with the dog and the front gate that swings open and closed with a creak and a thud in the wind. I look through the darkness at the trees springing into leaf and the cats that prowl and fight and climb and jump. Sometimes there’s a fox.

Insomnia takes me by the hand and somehow I brush my feet lightly over all of the floorboards that creak and find myself under the dazzling kitchen lights, mug in hand, not totally sure what I’m doing because what’s the time? How many hours until morning? Birds are starting to sing and there’s a gentle blue glow to the sky and I’m just so, so tired.

It’s the meds. It’s always something. It’s me trying, alone, to drag my withdrawing body off something that (I don’t think) it needs any longer, something that does more harm than good. Only it’s never straightforward, it means shaving tablets down to smaller and smaller doses and pretending that the dizziness isn’t really happening and I’m okay, really I’m okay, more to convince myself than anyone else. It’s realising that one glass of wine is bordering on too much when mixed with whatever drug I’m crumbling into myself every morning. It’s slowly welcoming the feelings back after years of numbness and being half excited and half terrified because this all feels so new. And I’m so tired.

Curled up on the sofa, even stood still for longer than a minute, if I allowed my eyes to close I would be asleep in an instant. Sometimes I nap if I’m blessed with a three year old who choses to do the same. Most of the time I have Things To Do.

I do all of the things and then I beat myself up about all of the things that I can’t do and my mind runs away with itself while my eyes try to focus through the sleeplessness.

I pull the edge of the curtain back and look again at the world. I can hear the wind blowing through the trees and the streetlight burns it’s yellow light out across the road and I look and I look and I sit and I wait, lost in the fear of what tomorrow might bring.

As slowly and as silently as it arrived, insomnia will creep off me and languidly stretch itself back into the shadows as I lay prone in the darkness, wrapped tightly in the duvet, waiting. As soon as I fall into a dream filled sleep I’m awake again because ‘morning time Mummy!’ and another day begins. Whether I’m ready or not.


To whoever climbed the green, slippery wood of my garden gate to prise the reflector panels from the back of the car for whatever reason, cheers. That was pretty selfish really wasn’t it? Pointless too, unless you’re planning on stealing our car tiny piece by tiny piece, in which case, good luck to you.

Selfish is the idiot who pushed my three year old out of the way in the supermarket so that he could get the last four bagels from the shelf before I got my hands on them, the people who drop their rubbish all over the street rather than making a vague effort to find a bin, people who don’t clean up after their dogs, who lie, who refuse to give up their seat on the bus for an elderly woman.

The politicians who show lack of compassion and understanding with every single cut that they make, every figure that they skew, the people who cut queues and climb into the taxi you just flagged down, three year olds…All selfish.

If there is one thing that I have learned in my life, it’s not to judge. Because that person who just pushed into the twenty deep queue that hasn’t moved in hours could be a total dick or they could have their own stuff going on, their own reasons for their actions. So could anyone. We’re all human and we’re all shockingly quick to judge at times, and as much as I seethe or wince when someone commits some heinous act of selfishness I know that I don’t know them or their stories and so proffer the benefit of the doubt carry on with my life.

When someone lays in a hospital bed or a care home or in their families arms or on cold concrete, as they close their eyes and exhale the last exhale of their life, it is the least selfish thing. Everyone who dies has lived; everyone has battled or suffered or fought or tried. Laughed, cried, and dreamed.

It’s still easier isn’t it? To accept that physical illness can kill.

Suicide isn’t a choice. It’s something that happens because a disease has consumed your whole body and mind and emotionally, physically, there is no way that you can continue to exist. There is no choosing to die or cowardliness or selfishness, just inevitability and necessity, an illness that like many others, that has proved fatal.

The very nature of death is that it leaves people behind; people who have to grieve and pick up the pieces and to try to keep going without someone that they love deeply. However death finds someone, that is what it leaves in its wake, whether it comes suddenly or unexpectedly or after years and years of pain.

So, you know what? To all of the people who have ever commented ‘selfish cow’ or ‘how could they?’ about someone who has lost their lives to suicide, remember that that person was a human with an illness and a favourite pair of shoes and excruciating pain and a favourite song and the total inability to breathe another breath.


march 1024x1024 3/12

I think I had been waiting for March since December.

DSC 2012 1024x682 3/12

For the sunshine and that extra hour in the evenings that isn’t yet filled with sunshine but is still somehow enough to give me slight jet-lag.

DSC 1986 1024x477 3/12

For ice creams at the park (and foot stomping tantrums as we leave), trees bursting back into life and days spent outside, just sitting and being. Branches heavy with blossom and air heavy with fog and new beginnings.

photo 51 286x300 3/12

Asked for the first time in as long as I can remember ‘what do you really, really want to do right now?’ and realising that there was only one answer on my lips and that it was, without a doubt, the only answer that there could ever be.

photo 4 9 300x225 3/12

Opening my eyes to new things so familiar it’s like they’ve always been there…And one of the best I Love Yous that I have ever been given.

photo 1 13 1024x1024 3/12