I sat with a friend tonight and looked at pictures of this past year. We spoke about the bits I’ve not shared with anyone. The boring bits that never made it to my blogs or social media, talking about little funny moments, the really hard moments and all the insignificant bits in between. Even the bits that probably made no sense to someone else, but to me it was all I knew for 9 months. The drug names, pictures of the ward, the parents kitchen, the lift lobby were I spent hours by myself looking out over London. I’m pretty sure to them, it was boring, but to me it meant everything. To be able to start talking about it and say these things out loud, to be able to process what’s gone on are tiny building blocks in accepting it and moving on. To look back on pictures from the beginning and reflect on how I felt, was therapeutic. I realised how far I have come and how much I have changed.
I am feeling much more positive since my last blog. I’ve started back at work, the kids have gone back to school and things are finally feeling more normal.
I had my first encounter with an internet troll this week, which could have broken me, but it didn’t. I felt compassion for her. She has been following my story for nearly a year and has chronic illness herself. She lives in America, where the covid situation is very different to ours. She knew this. But she still chose to steal my picture from Instagram and post it to a silly Facebook page- you know, the ones where people make fun of others to make themselves look good.
She posted about how irresponsible it was for Ellis to go back to school and how I’ve had parties with ‘hundreds’ of people to celebrate.
At first I read every single comment. Comments telling me to die. Comments telling me I should have my children taken away from me… all because he went back to school.
She took a post from an already broken mum, a post admitting I was so scared and nervous about him going and changed it to boost her ego. It’s very sad how someone could be that heartless.
At first I was angry, I had just come out of the hardest two weeks of my life, where I felt I was on the verge of a breakdown. As soon as I saw it, my heart sank. I felt sick. At that point, I was terrified I would go back to that place.
But then something happened. Something beautiful and amazing.
All of a sudden, those nasty vile messages were replaced with positive encouraging messages praising me and my choices, praising me as a mum and telling her she was wrong for doing what she did.
That was the moment I knew I would be ok.
I had a whole army behind me. Nearly 200 messages in my inbox supporting me and picking me back up. Some I knew, some are my girls who I know have always got my back ❤️ But some were strangers. People I had never met or spoken to, telling me how without realising it, I had lifted them up when they needed it the most. The words were so empowering it was humbling.
This is why I over share.
My Instagram and blogs are honest and raw. I strongly believe life is better when you’re honest, so I try to love my life by that.
So this is a thank you, to everyone who has been behind me. It wasn’t a case of taking sides, it was girls empowering girls (and some boys 😜) and making someone feel so supported, not because you had to but because you wanted to.
I feel on top of the world today. I feel like I am on the right path to getting better and finding me again. I feel strong.
And that’s because of my friends. People I’ve known my whole life, people I’ve only known a few months and people I have actually never even met, but who are only ever a message away.
So remember how powerful your words can be. If you see someone struggling, message them. It’s not about finding the right words to say, it’s about saying any words you can to make sure they know you’re thinking of them.
Words can hurt, but words can also mend.
Use them wisely