The Story Of Us-On My Husband’s Birthday

Today is the 28th of January-which is also known as my Husband’s Birthday-his 32nd this year!

When prepping my work for this month, and getting his presents and Birthday plans sorted, I realised I’ve never used my website to tell the story of us (me and Hubs, not you and I dear reader).

So, what better day to tell it, than on the day we celebrate another year of his life!

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Ghost Friending-What Is It, And How Do You Deal With It?

Definition of Ghost Friending
; referring to one person suddenly and without warning cutting off contact by simply disappearing from the other person’s life. They refuse to answer calls or texts, block them on social media, and basically pretend as if the relationship never happened.

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Anxiety-Acceptance Over A Cure

Over the last few months, slowly my Mental Health issues have improved.
Let’s not get confused-I’m not cured-far from it!  What I have done, is gradually accept the person I now am.

For so long, I fought so hard-against what my brain was telling me, against how I felt.  I hated the person I was, I hated who the Anxiety had made me.

I blamed myself, and my issues, for everything.  The reason the housework wasn’t done.  The reason I hadn’t seen anyone outside of my house for weeks.  The reason people weren’t wanting to be around me anymore.  I was having “down days“, “dark days“, “bad Anxiety days“.  Everything I did, every thing I had become, was blamed on Anxiety.

Anxiety was to blame.  And PTSD was to blame for that.  Losing three babies and having no Mental Health aftercare was to blame for that.  The list of things to blame for this one Mental Health issue, goes on and on-I’m a psychiatrists field day!

I can’t explain what changed, or when it changed.  I can only tell you what I have come to realise now.

As a blogger, the realisation that I’m actually good at something-something I truly love doing, and get complimented on often, has helped massively.  I know I can write-and as an outlet for everything going through my silly old brain, regardless of whether it makes it to the website or not, really aids my recovery from those “dark days“.

6 months ago, I wouldn’t have left the house without having some form of Anxiety attack.  Now I’m attending press nights in a busy theatre, filled with people.  I talk to strangers, and I write my reviews, knowing others will read them.
Yes I’m still anxious about any negativity that may come from my writing, or worried a stranger that I speak to may not like me-but it doesn’t stop me anymore.

6 months ago, I couldn’t have imagined travelling to London alone, or anywhere really.  Yet, I’ve now lost count of the amount of times I’ve made it to the big city, remarking on how stupid I felt about the Anxiety attack I’d had earlier in the day.  It’s not stupid-it’s normal for me.  But actually, every time that has happened, a little bit of strength has found its way back to me-giving anxiety a tiny kick and saying “we did it, we beat you”.

6 months ago, I wouldn’t dare send an email pitching my blog to companies, to ask them to work with me, for fear of a nasty reply, (or no reply), and that horrible feeling of rejection I was always so worried of getting.
Now, I pitch most days, and yes, people are rude, and yes, people are ignorant, but surrounding those who are ignorant and rude, there are a handful of people, complimenting my work, saying yes straight away, based on my website and blogs, and giving me opportunities I wouldn’t have got without pitching.

2 months ago, I wouldn’t have dared to do anything in my local area that would shine a light on me.  Knowing people are so close, and may judge me to my face, would’ve prevented me even writing about my local area anonymously.  Yet here I am, writing for my local news website, thankful for another opportunity someone gave me that enables me to do even more of what I love.

There was a time, when I didn’t recognise who I was.  When people seemed to be friends with me to make their lives look better.  When misery loved company-and I was that company.

There were times, when I’d spend days crying, wishing I was someone else.  Wondering where everything had gone so wrong.

Now, there are times, when I’m thankful for those who left when they did-to those who showed me, being around them was hindering my growth as a person.

Now there are times, when I don’t cry for weeks, and actually, I wonder why I ever let Anxiety take over my life so much.

As I said previously-I’m in no way cured.  I’m just learning to accept what has happened to me-to accept who I now am, and roll with it, rather than fight it.  Those “dark days” will still come.  Those “down days” will still take over.  Just not as often, and not as brutally as they first did.

I know it’s not easy, but if you’re feeling the way I did, the way I still do sometimes, accept it, grow from it.

Write that pitch, send that letter, make that phone call, dump those that don’t accept you-that can’t be there for you, find your happy and roll with it……


Me in London on my own, after an anxiety attack on the train, giving Anxiety a kick, and treating myself to a walk up Primrose Hill.


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Today I am thankful for…….

Hi my lovelies!

I know, I know-what an odd choice for a blog title.  Well, you’re going to see a lot more of it!
For a long time now I’ve wanted to change the way I look at my life, and the days events that go with it.  Every day, in everyone’s lives there’s stresses, worries, and tons of emotions and negativity, that you tend to focus on a lot more than the positive stuff.

For me, suffering from anxiety disorder and depression, those “positive” days, sometimes seem few and far between.

So I’ve decided to start this series of blogs.  I won’t say I’ll do them every day, but I’ll try to (that’s as good as it’s getting im afraid).

The purpose, is for me to try and focus a little more on what I’m thankful and grateful for each day, rather than moaning constantly about the negative stuff that’s stuck out more.  Also, I’d like to show others, maybe in a similar situation to me, that it really does help, when you have mental health issues, to do things like this.  I’m not saying everyone should start a blog about it all, but even just writing it down at home, or saying it to yourself could help!

Today is Tuesday the 17th of January-and today I’m thankful for the following;

I’m full of cold-thanks to my little darlings sharing their lovely germs.  Even though I’m poorly, I still had two nursery runs to do today, and general mum/wife related stuff, so medicine today, has been my friend.   I do believe it’s a life long friendship that I’ll continue every time I have an illness which coincides with loads things I have to do.
Olivia, not so long ago, started nursery (as you can read about here-Another New Chapter).

She started going in absolutely fine, then a week in decided it wasn’t for her anymore, and, because she’s only three and still thinks she can rule our lives, as well as hers, she dislikes it very much when I still take her in for her sessions!
Nursery staff are very well aware of this, and take her straight away and calm her almost immediately.  This for me, and my anxious Mummy brain is an absolute godsend.  I know they can deal with her, and that this isn’t forever.
Today was made even better by the fact, an old friend of mine (old as in I’ve known her a while, not old as in age-she’d want me to say that) is now working there, so they both took to each other this morning-making me even more relaxed!

Apple- the makers of the iPad and iPhone
Yes, I went there, and they’re not even sponsoring me to write this!
On a day where I’m spending the majority of my time in bed, but still needing to work and keep in touch with people, these two things have been amazing today.  When I’d finished working, I watched films on my iPad, and really, that’s all that needs to be said.  They keep my life turning, even from my bed.

And finally-leftover turkey from Christmas
OK, so I’m pulling at straws a little for this one, but the one thing that’s made me feel better today (aside from the drugs) is turkey and vegetable soup.  Not just any turkey and vegetable soup-homemade-by-me turkey and vegetable soup.  It was made last month, the day after Boxing Day, in my slow cooker, and frozen into 8 batches for the foreseeable future.  It’d almost as if I knew there would come a day my body was screaming out for good food, and those batches would serve me well.  Thank god for massive turkeys at Christmas that don’t get eaten.

So there you have it-that was me finding the positives in my day when there were so many negatives I could’ve focused on.

Now it’s your turn.  Why don’t you think of just one thing (you can do as many as you like but try one first) you’re thankful for today.  And, if you fancy it, add it onto here as a comment, or on your social media platforms, tag me in them (look to the right for my social media links), and use the hashtag #MFBthankful.


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Good Enough


I don’t love easily. 

I don’t mean in the “being in love” sense, I mean loving friends, getting to know people, liking them as your friendship moves along, relying on them for things, letting them rely on you.

I’m a very paranoid person, I pretty much second guess everything I do, and everything everyone else does.  I worry about how I’ll be perceived, what people think of how I look, how I dress, how I act.


And through years of being like that, I try constantly to change.  I try so hard to be who each person I come into contact with, wants me to be.  Because if they don’t like me for the person I’m trying to be, it’s not as bad as them not liking me for who I truly am.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not fake to every single person I know and speak to!  To those closest to me, I open my true self up, and hope so much that they’ll like me.

Those people however, are few.

As I’ve got older, I thought I would change a little, relax a bit, and show my truer self to more people.  I wanted to gain the attitude, “if they don’t like me for who I am, then they’re not worth knowing”.  But in all honesty, its just not that easy.

Every time I put myself out there, allow people to know all about me, to know who I truly am, I seem to get shit on, from a very big height.

Sometimes it’s my mistake!  Sometimes I’ve just been a very big idiot when judging someones character.  Other times, someone shows me who they are, and I assume that’s the real them.  Then, months (years sometimes) later, the real them comes out and I’m left feeling like I not only wasted that time, but misplaced my trust, and that’s harder than anything else.



I don’t think you ever truly learn how to read people and trust them implicitly, no matter how old you are.  You just put yourself out there and hope you’re good enough.

And as hard as I try, I just don’t think I’m one of those people who is good enough.


For now, I’ll try and focus on those in my life I know think that I know, and hope I’ve not made another friendship I’ll end up regretting……


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She is mine


I’ve been deliberating for ages about not only writing this blog post, but publishing it too.

I feel a little abnormal, and that I might end up regretting admitting something so personal, that people may find odd.  So this blog basically started as a draft post, just for me to write my feelings down.


It’s only after speaking with a friend today, and explaining to her the reason I write is to stop people feeling alone and having common ground in what they’re going through, that I think there might be others in the situation I’m in.


SO here goes…….

You know when someone shares something on Facebook that basically says “do you ever look at your child and can’t believe you made them?” (or something along those lines).

That’s how I felt with my son, that’s how I still feel about him.  I know he’s mine, I’ve never felt any differently, I look at him and there’s no doubt in my mind, no niggle in my messed up brain that thinks otherwise.


My daughter however, I feel differently about.

I’m not sure if it’s the miscarriages, the recurrent losses and heartache I faced each time I lost another baby.  Maybe it’s the detachment of feeling, that came from worrying constantly about the pregnancy with my daughter, my fifth pregnancy.

Please don’t misunderstand what I’m saying-I love her with all of my being, my children are my entire world and more, but sometimes, I look at her, and think, “I don’t feel like you’re mine”.  “I don’t feel like you belong to me”.

It’s always a fleeting thought, and it’s over in seconds, with my subconscious convincing me that she obviously is mine.  That I pushed all 9lb 2.5oz of her chubby body out of my lady parts, that I have been with her every day since the day she was born, nurturing her, teaching her and loving her.

She is mine, she looks like me, acts like me, speaks like me.  She needs me, loves me, and when it’s just us, I am her person, her ‘go to’ and comfort.

For some reason, all those rational thoughts go out of the window every now and again, when I look at my beautiful little girl and think “you can’t be mine”.

I know it’s denial, but lets be serious here, denial for over 3 years is pretty huge.  

It’s just another effect left over from the utter trauma and devastation I went through when going through my miscarriages.  It’s the denial I felt every time I not only fell pregnant, but when I lost the babies, then when I kept hitting milestone after milestone, seeing scan after scan, with my daughter.  I convinced myself she wouldn’t be mine, just like the others, and from that, comes this long term denial I’m now stuck with.

I’m confident I won’t feel like this forever, and am thankful that it doesn’t affect our bond or the extent of my love for her, but its another thing to remind me how let down I was following my miscarriages, from the lack of aftercare and help I received, and that’s something that will be harder to move on from, for a long long time.



For support and information-go over to Tommy’s and The Miscarriage Association websites.


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A Letter To My Son


My darling boy,
Yesterday mummy went to your last ever parents evening in year one. 
Before I left you said to me, “it’ll be a good one mummy, I’m always good!”

Now I know you’re a good boy, I know you’ve never been in trouble, and are consistent at working hard and achieving high. But I’m not delusional sweetheart. 

Grown ups will teach you from a young age, not to believe all you are told, and to take things small humans such as yourself say, with a very large pinch of salt. 

When your teacher sat me down, my tummy gave that familiar lurch of anxiety-what if this time something was different and we had a brand new obstacle to overcome.

My anxiety was for nothing. 

You didn’t disappoint and were true to your word.  
Your results for the end of term tests and subjects, not only blew me away but your teacher too. She told me how much she will miss you when you leave her class in two weeks. She told me how proud I should be of you. 

God I am proud of you!

I want to tell the world how proud I am of you, but proud as a standalone word isn’t enough.

  • I am thankful. Thankful to have you as my son, for the joy you bring me and the consistent happiness you fill our lives with. 
  • I am amazed.  Amazed how my little baby boy, has grown into such an amazing big boy, who is so clever, thoughtful and funny. 
  • I am grateful. Grateful for the gift of you from whichever divine being sent you to me. 
  • I am overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the sheer love I have for you, for the amount you achieve and still have to achieve. For all I have taught you and have to teach you in the future.  
  • I AM PROUD. Proud to be your mummy, your friend, your comfort, your support and your absolute biggest fan. 


Not long ago you told me that one day you’ll be too big for cuddles on my lap and holding my hand. 

That day can wait-I’m not giving it up without a fight. 


                                                                   Keep making me proud my lovely. Keep being you. 

My baby always. 

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Failed Once Again


Today, after a half and half kind of day with regards to my mood, it was most definitely swayed towards being completely rubbish after a long awaited doctors appointment this afternoon.

I don’t need to ask, to know people really struggle to get an appointment to see a doctor nowadays, the lines are always jammed from 1 second past the time they go online.  The appointments, once you get through are almost always gone, and you’re either offered the last one, an emergency “sit and wait” one, or told to call the next day.  If you need to pre-book one for a specific reason, you do so with an appointment given weeks away.

So to even get an appointment today, I was pretty chuffed to say the least.

That feeling disappeared around 30 seconds into my appointment.

Because I’d waited so long to get 10 minutes with a doctor, a couple of other symptoms/issues had cropped up.  Not knowing if they were related to each other I decided to hit the doctor with all three.  Outside is a notice saying the slots for each patient are 10 minutes each.

I first told the Doctor, about a dodgy mole I wanted looked at.  As a mother, wife, daughter, sister and friend, I would give the same advice to any of the people I speak to, about getting moles checked at the first sign of them changing.  You really never can be too careful when it comes to dealing with something like that. So, I showed the doctor the mole in question.  He didn’t touch it, he didn’t measure it, he didn’t look at it really.  “That looks fine”, were his words.

I then told him that I’ve felt a bit groggy recently, which culminated in me nearly passing out on the school run yesterday, while in the care of my newly-walking-on-school-runs, 2 and a half year old daughter.  He ‘hmmmms’ for a moment, looks at my patient notes on his screen, turns to me and says, “you do have anxiety it says here”.

I say yes but its been pretty under control recently, and I don’t think it was related, but why? Does he think it is?  “Yes” is his answer.

Oh OK then…..lets hit him with the last one, the initial issue I was coming for before all the other stuff started happening.

I’ve had the most excruciating pain in my lower abdomen for the last few months, to the point its worse than period pain.  I can’t pinpoint the pain location (as I’m not a qualified medical practitioner) but I think its around my ovary area as it seems pretty localised to me.

I tell him all of this, kind of expecting him to say “hop up on the bed and I’ll have a feel of your abdomen”, this didn’t happen.  I also expected he’d possibly order an ultrasound or SOMETHING practical.  This didn’t happen.

Instead, he said, “to be honest I think its your anxiety”.  In shock (and disbelief at what he was saying I responded with, “so you think ALL of these things are to do with my Anxiety?” He nodded……

The man hadn’t as far as I’m concerned practiced anything medical on me whatsoever during my 7 minutes, (please note, I didn’t even go over my 10 minute time with my three symptoms/issues), but had amazingly managed to put EVERYTHING down to my Mental Health issues.

I put on my fake smile, stood up, said thank you through gritted teeth and left, trying not to burst into tears and scream at anyone who came near me.

I’m so SO sick of this.  How on earth are we supposed to work alongside the NHS to stop the stigma of mental health issues when the NHS are employing people like this to diagnose people.  This is not on!  This is not on at all!

I for one will be going back to the doctors (when I can get another appointment) and getting a proper doctor to do what I think I need doing.

What concerns me more than anything is how many patients are being spoken to and treated like I was today, and leave believing what the “professional” in front of them has said, that it’s all in their head!

This NEEDS to change.  We can’t change the stigma of mental health issues until people like this are properly educated on the subject.

This HAS to change.


no more stigmabehaviour-change


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