Tag Archives: identity

No drama

I had a friend once, I use the term friend rather loosely now but then she was what I would class as dear to me. We had walked though a lot together and I assumed we would continue to do so.

Then when in the midst of Livvy’s regression I was crying down the phone to her when she uttered the words that have scarred my heart for such a long term “I swear your life is like a trashy soap opera, everything happens to you, or maybe you just like the drama”.

I remember the impact of these words as if it was yesterday. How anyone could believe that this was the journey of life I had wanted to take was beyond me but to accuse me of being dramatic hurt. In fact it hurt so much that I shut down, I didn’t allow my feelings to show. I closed the door on that friendship and many others in fear of judgement.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because I am in a place now where I am ready to own my own story. Ready to embrace what I have lived, not with echoes of shame but with pride.

Having a child who was born with a debiliatiting condition was hard but not knowing what it was and not expecting it was literally a nightmare. I cannot find the words to explain how painful it was to lose my daughter to Rett Syndrome, twice. Watching her eyes leave my face, her words disappear from my ears and her movements lost to the stereotypical.

To see the fear in her eyes as she screamed and screamed, crying out for me to rescue her. It broke me in inside, I cried out to God so often to heal her.

But he didn’t.

Yet slowly and surely he healed me.

I finally began to embrace the journey I was set upon, although it was very different from anything I could have ever imagined it was full of wonder and joy.

Joy, does that surprise you?

My daughter had a severe devastating condition, my son has a very complex disability but both of them loved, loves life in a way that brought, that brings me so much light.

It’s took me a long time to get to a place where I don’t apologise for what some see “as drama” in my life.

I have surrounded myself with people who get it or who try to understand it.

I have walked away from those who don’t or who don’t want to.

I can accept that some people cannot understand the life I lived or now the life I have chosen and that’s ok.

We are never going to be a typical family and I am embracing that, celebrating that.

Yes at times I am lonely and I do get sad at having to apologise for another missed get together, group activity or friendship meal.

But my children will always be my first priority, always my heart.

I don’t know if my friend understood the impact of her words or how they would change me inside. Maybe it was meant as a throw away comment that wasn’t supposed to find roots and bury itself deep.

Maybe it was my state of mind back then that fed and watered these seeds of deceit.

I don’t know and I actually don’t care.

Because I’m not that person anymore.

I cannot say that harsh words don’t still sting or dig deep in my heart, but they don’t get to stay and or get to take root anymore.

I am stronger than I have ever been.

I have faced the darkness of death and my memories, love brought me the light.

I face the suffocation of fear but my sons smile breathes air into my lungs.

My children are my world, they are the air that I need to breathe.

I am stronger for being their Mama.

My faith is stronger than my fear.

Oh just get along.

I sometimes wonder how often we just give away parts of ourselves just to keep the peace.

When we are tired and weary and we just want the arguments to stop.

How many times do we teach our children to just be friends.

Just try to get along.

Yet their hearts are actually breaking from the pain.

“I know she’ll hurt you.”

“I know she said some things that she shouldn’t but move on and try to be happy”

“Kids say things they don’t mean don’t take it to heart.”

“Just ignore it”.

Yet each cruel word is etched into their soul.

Why do we say its okay when it’s not?

The Internet is full of kids lost due to bullying.

Souls broken unable to take anymore.

Were they told to be nice?

To ignore the bullies.

To try and be friends.

Get along.

Just be strong.

By telling our children how to be we take away who they are.

And who they are is just fine.

No one deserves to be made to change.

To feel ashamed in their own skin,

It’s not about getting along.

It’s about being given the freedom to sing your own song.

Who am I? Who are you?

What would you say if I asked you “Who are you?” or “Who am I?”

I may read from my about me page but is that really who I am?


I am a crazy tattooed mum to four amazing young ladies..

A foster mum to one very special young man.

I am a gothic loving lady who is finally learning to love her plus sized body.

A new lover of fashion and with a complete addiction to books.


Yet I am also a woman who thinks way to much and often gets lost inside my own head.

I worry all the time.


Have i done that right?

Are the kids ok?

Will they like me?


Why are children dying?

Why are there so many wars?

Why do some have so much when others have nothing?


It’ so hard to answer the question “who am I?”

I think I can only answer this as who I am right now.


Life is always evolving.

I am not the person I was 10 years ago.

I am not the person I was last month.

In fact I am not the same person as I was yesterday.


Life, events, circustances and people they change me.

who am I


So what would you answer if I asked you ” who are you?”


Another planet

Seriously please tell me I’m not alone.

Teenagers really are from another planet right?

I honestly give up trying to understand them. I seem to have the knack of getting everything wrong.

Also what was cool one day is soooo not the next.

I need a guidebook that has a daily entry full of what’s ok for that given day.

Don’t get me wrong I love my girls but my goodness it was so much easier when they were little.

Give me four under five any day

People tell me it’s them finding their place in this world, they own identify .

I’m a bit concerned that being stroppy individuals is their true identity.

As for sisterly love I’m sure it should be rephrased “well I haven’t killed her today”.

I am at a lost, I’m considering moving country for a few years well until they are adults anyway.

I know I know, these years are precious and I will miss them when they leave home, but marking days off a calendar is ok isn’t it.

I love them but I’m shattered.

Tell me it gets easier, if not please send wine.


Star Trek makes sense

I’m told its my eyes that tell my story.

A few days ago I had to have my photo took for identity purposes. You know the one where you can not smile or pull funny faces.

I struggled with looking at this photo not just because i hate having photos took of myself but because I couldn’t hide behind my smile. My facade to the world.

This photo rather shocked me as I looked haunted.

A little lost.

This led to an afternoon of self analysing not something I would really recommend. It can totally mess with your mind.

You see thinking never really does me any favours.

Well where was I?

Oh that’s right my haunted look.

It was as if my life had left a physical imprint on my soul and of course the eyes being the windows to the soul it was there for all to see.

I realised my identity has changed so much over the years. Not surface things like fashion, hairstyle etc but the roles I play in life.

I’m a wife, I’m a mother

But I’ve also been a mother of a disabled child.

I’ve been the grieving mom of the said disabled child.

I am now a foster carer to a disabled child , a foster mom.

Different roles at different times yet which one left the haunting.

It doesn’t really need a answer does it.

Losing a child is so strange it’s as if life moves forward but a part of you is left in the past.

Haunting the memories.

It’s as if you hold on to the then rather than live in the now without them.

I watched my first Star Trek movie the other night and they were talking about alternative realities and that made sense in a strange way.

A part of me is still in pre November 7th 2008.

It’s not about non acceptance it’s about holding them close and never letting go.

I believe all of us have a haunting.

A moment in time which we can never let go.

A time in your life which shaped who you are today.

I see my life as a jigsaw I was born complete but through life I have lost or left pieces behind in different places and at different times. I won’t be complete again until eternity.

But that’s ok.

I think this is what makes us human the ability to connect to form bonds.

The courage to give away pieces of ourselves.

So a jigsaw am I.

Or as my husband says missing a few pieces ha ha.