Regular readers may (or may not) have noticed that I have been a little quiet over here of late. I haven't really felt the love for the blog; I'm not really sure what it is. I suspect I need a change of direction, or perhaps simply to take some time out. I am no longer sure what I want to write about although I am starting to realise what I want to put less of on here.
Much like many bloggers, this started as a place for me. A sort of free therapy. At a time in my life when we had just moved to Bristol it was a time of uncertainty as we started getting answers to my illness, realised the impact of it, that the husband and I couldn't work. We soon went through a long, uncertain period of homelessness filled with reams of paperwork; paperwork for housing, for financial support from the state, appeals in both areas. We felt judged as parents and as people. Exhausting, stressful with lots of angry tears. Then came the getting the flat. Decorating with support from the blogging community. Feeling settled, content and pretty darn thankful.
Then earlier this year we had a couple of more periods of uncertainty. Uncertainty in our marriage, our family unit. When in days gone by I would have blogged through it, I had since "grown up", realised that whatever I said I would not be sharing the whole story, certainly not the husband's side, how then could I share that on here? Something so personal that I felt I needed to process myself but what of the husband; how would he feel? And, more importantly, would I say something that I'd later regret and never be able to take back. I may be able to delete the post, or the blog entirely but it could always be found. It made me question my honesty, my integrity and what that means to me personally as well as for my readers.
Now, we are happier than ever. Truly. Content. Our days are largely filled with fun and laughter. The positive attitude that got me through last year has come back. Of course, the nature of my health issues means there are more days when I cannot go outside than I can but I have realised that doesn't have to mean feeling sorry for myself or that I am missing out (although I am only human and still have them). I can listen to Harry retelling the fun he had at the park with Daddy, or how Daddy has taught him how to swing a golf club on the field or what about at nursery when one child hit another, again? When I am well enough I can absorb myself fully to going along and watching him laugh, hearing him cry out "Look at me mummy!". Dare I say even, that this more positive attitude has a physical benefit, I seem to be able to get out a little more often.
I am excited about the future. I am currently doing a couple of e-courses, I shall be applying to become a parent governor at Harry's school from September and in October I hope to start an Open University course. All of which I am hoping to help me get the confidence I need to start my own business from home. In September I have another meeting with my Neurosurgeon as well to find out what, if any, further surgery I need.
All of this combined, I hope means the future is looking optimistic. The husband is job hunting and I am sure that he will find the right job eventually. We want to support ourselves, our little boy and we want our self-respect back.
It has been a tough few years and I have a huge fear that things are about to go wrong again. So huge that it fills my waking thoughts and my dreams (or nightmares!) at night but hopefully, finally, things are on the up and this time for good.