It’s the morphine talking…

Dear Mummy, you are shell of your former self, hobbling around like an old women. Living out your life from a drug dispensing notebook. Your days revolve around when you can take your opioids to relive the pain from your … Continue reading

The colours of my mummy’s life

My mummy sees things in black and white at the moment with the odd speckles of grey.

Halftone colours on a blank canvas.

We’ve had an interesting start to the year already. Self doubt, sickness, stress and all round ‘meh’.

This new year I want her to see the rainbows in her life. All the colours that life has to offer.

Red, not like anger but family. Blood is thicker than water she needs to make more of an effort with her family.

Orange, like the ones I eat, the little segments each representing an aspect of her life. Husband, me, work, routine, personal time, hobbies, sleep. All parts of the orange together makes her whole.

Yellow, not just sickness (like the colour of my nappies) but the goodness and caring. Having the patience, courage and strength to be a better mum when things get tough.

Stephanie Block Artwork RainbowsGreen, not just jealousy but hope and the realisation that everyone else has their own journey to live. Stop comparing yourself to others.

Blue, not just sadness but new horizons. Blue skies and sunny days are hopefully lying ahead.

Purple, the colour of Cadbury’s chocolate wrappers. In life you can NEVER have too much chocolate! Life is like a box of chocolates as someone famous once said…you never know what you’re gotta get. This new year, don’t limit yourself with things you can’t have. Silly fad diets and restrictions on things that make you happy. Just be happy.

Stephanie Block Artwork StarsWe love this artwork from Stephanie Block, a local artist in Hampshire. We proudly hang it in our house and it serves a gentle reminder to put things into perspective when life gets tough.

Dear mummy, always look for the rainbow after the storm.

Love Bella x

Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com

Cuddle Fairy

A better day

A better day

Dear mummy, today was a better day. For all of us. The sun was shining and you managed to finally get some shut-eye last night. Sleep helps to recharge your batteries, especially when you are feeling low. You feel selfish for sleeping over 12hrs yesterday, leaving childcare duties to Grandma and Daddy, but you were much better for it. Laughing and joking with me today.

You see, since we arrived in Ireland for the Christmas Holidays I haven’t been sleeping. 😦 It could be the change in routine, too much excitement or my final milk teeth coming through…it could be a wonder week as my speech is getting better…it could be anything.

I must admit I’ve had the whole household at their wit’s end! Lack of sleep leads to mutiny within the ranks and discord.

You’ve been low because of it and you hate hearing me cry all night. Big family gatherings are hard, too much pressure for everything to be ‘perfect’. Keeping up with the Jones’ with social media feeds full of gloating families about how wonderful their Christmases have been. PAH! Bah humbug. Real families have real issues.

Anyway, I digress. I saw you kissing Daddy today so I know you still love him, even though he’s still poorly sick. He even made you crack a smile 🙂

It’s all hands on deck to deal with this troublesome toddler (that’s me btw) It’s like a switch went off in my head as soon as we landed in Belfast. One minute I was serene and calm, the next I was transformed into this drooling sugar crazed monster. I can’t help myself, I know you know that.

I must have fallen asleep on your chest tonight as one minute I remember hearing you breathing and feeling you rub my back, the next I’m in this cold unfamiliar cot. It feels strange. I don’t like it.

So, shall I cry out tonight for comfort or just go back to sleep?

Stay tuned

Bella x

Behind closed doors

Behind closed doors

Dear mummy, so it’s got to this.

You are staring at your hand filled with sleeping pills. This has been the hardest post to write, you see this blog was only ever supposed to be recording the happy times.

Unfortunately recently we’ve only had the bad. Illness, no sleep, relationship problems. You’ve done quite well shielding me from how you feel though. With a family history of mental health issues ranging from Alcoholism, which lead to your father’s death at 52, to eating disorders and depression. It’s about time something was going to happen to you.

At Christmas it’s always worse. Trying to keep everyone happy, putting a fake smile on, telling yourself that you are happy. Some days you are. Some days you are not.

So, here you are. Sleeping pills & pain killers or writing this post to get it off your chest. People sing about contemplating suicide, but until you actually feel like you can do it, do you fully emerge yourself in the task of planning it. Fantasising on ways that you could end it all. Hanging on window blind cords, driving your car into a brick wall or inching slowly off the motorway. Taking drugs mixed with sleeping pills and going to the kitchen drawer downstairs and grabbing a knife. You’ve thought about stabbing yourself in the stomach a lot, you don’t think you could cut your wrists.

Sleep deprivation and lack of self-esteem has led to this post. You hate yourself and feel others are mocking you and bitching about you behind your back. You feel you aren’t good enough to be a mum, by feeling constantly judged by others. You aren’t good enough to blog because you can’t spell or use grammar correctly. You’ve failed at being successful by being a lowly graphic designer. You’re ugly, fat and hate yourself. Daddy doesn’t listen to you or respect advice that you try to give. Always wanting to be in control of everything and you feel like a spare part. Surely no-one would miss you….except me. I’m the reason you are writing this post instead of ending it all. I’m the reason you are doing this blog, I’m the reason why you are trying to live your life. You are doing a shit job at it mummy and screwing it all up.

What to do…?

I don’t know.

Bella.