HEARTLINES| JOURNAL

It’s not been a great summer, and my normal enthusiasm for Autumn is non-existent.

I’m currently sat on my bed, recovering from a 3 day migraine, which I thought yesterday I was going to die from, feeling very bitter and resentful that my cat is having a shit-ton more fun than me, curled up on a letter from my bank, fast asleep.

I’ve been pretty absent in the blogging scene so far this year and even though no one appears to read my blog, I thought I would document why I have been so MIA, just in case someone drops by.

The start of the year saw me immerse myself fully into a motorhome obsession, which laid me to then buying one. I spent quite a lot of time renovating it and painting bits here and there and actually living in it for a few months. A genuine interest which soon turned to complete disaster and has now resulted in me putting it up for sale. I had planned on blogging the whole journey, but something always stopped me. I realise now it was probably the lack of trust that it was the right thing to do.

I have explained in previous posts the reason behind the motorhome; it wasn’t a purchase-on-a-limb.. It was a well thought out project to enable me to have my own space and live independently but still be close to home. Where I’m needed.

Anyway, complete write off. Moving on…

Spring. My mother’s health starts declining again and she is diagnosed with Osteoperosis. This is an ongoing problem and causes a lot of stress and worry on my part. Something I have experienced my whole life. I cannot remember a time when I have not been worried about her health, and I just pray (in my own little way) that it doesn’t get any worse than this.

Alongside said stress and worry, came the difficulties at work and in my friendship circle. Everything felt so turbulent and for a very long time, I felt as though I didn’t have anyone to turn to. To talk.

And not be judged.

Because that’s something I’ve felt up against so much this year.

Being judged and misunderstood by those I previously thought had my back, in times which have been extremely dark for me.

Spring also saw me go to the doctor and explain said dark feelings and after admitting just how tough everything seemed, she prescribed anti-depressants and told me to self-refer for talking therapy again.

Well, the anti-depressants were a complete and utter shit storm of near death experiences and the realisation that because of my M.E. my intolerance and sensitivity to medication was all too strong to continue.

And as for the talking therapy (which is so what I need), the only day they don’t work is the only day I don’t either.

So I’m back to square one, considering private £50 a session counselling which I can’t afford and wondering what the point is anymore in seeking help.

Off you go with a prescription and a leaflet but there doesn’t seem to be anything beyond that.

If the talking therapy lot don’t work 5 days a week, you’re stuffed.

If prescription meds are too strong, you’re stuffed.

For now its chocolate cake and Bach’s Rescue Remedy. (Not sponsored)

Moving on to end of Summer, beginning of Autumn.

My grandfather has a bout of shingles and is admitted to hospital for 2 months.

At 90 years old, he’s always been a resilient man, but watching his health decline has been a horrible thing.

His mobility, which was not great before the shingles, has worsened and now he is back home with my Granny, things are more stressful than ever.

I just wish I could do more to care for them on a daily basis. And care for my mother too.

If that could become my full time job I’d do it.

Then there is my own physical health.

My M.E. has been worse than ever this year and I guess that’s because of the stress I’ve been under. I find I feel worse when I’m very worried.

Holding down a 36 hour a week job is also getting the better of me.

I’m having more sick days than I would like and although I have an understanding team who can see when I’m struggling, it does make me wonder for how much longer I can really keep it up.

And that freaks me out so much.

I recently flew out to Norway to stay with my very lovely friends again. I was so ill leading up to going and the day before I was bed ridden with a temperature, but something in me rose above it and convinced my poorly state to get a grip and go.

Honestly? It was difficult to go while everyone was so unwell and things seemed so unsettled with the family, but I knew I needed a break from it. Something I very rarely give in to.

The pressure and worry had been eating away at my already prominent depression and to get away would be the calm in among the tornado that I needed to gather stock and come back refreshed and more able to cope.

And while I would have loved blogging to be my saviour through all this chaos of mind and body, I couldn’t bring myself to write. And as an aspiring Journalist, this has worried senseless too.

I think seeing all the glossy blogs out there with their successes and brand triumphs, I feared writing from the heart. Because I don’t know if that’s what people want from a blog anymore.

The raw, unfiltered, un-edited version of someone’s heart.

Their soul.

But here I am. With my heart and my soul.

Risking it.

I am going to blog more, but it will be more this style. Rather than advice and reviews and beauty hauls I can’t afford.

The style I’ve always seen blogging as.

From the heart.

Raw.

And honest.

Amy

BLOGGING / HEALTH UPDATE|DIARY

Happy old Amy is back with another happy update…

But what truly defines happy anyway?

So I've blogged three times this year and to the normal human being ( but what truly defines normal), it would be a clear indication that my commitment to blogging has faded and the only way forward now would be to sever all links to the internet, delete everything and go back from whence I came.

However, it's not quite like that for me. I still love having a blog, and I love writing for it and I love knowing people have read my posts. But, these days, thanks to my ever worsening condition, I genuinely have very little energy left after a 9 hour shift and 36 hour week to do anything other than eat dinner and fall asleep.

Let me give you a little context…

As you can read on the "about me" page, I suffer from a chronic illness called M.E.
I have done since I was seven years old and have gone through stages of my 19 year battle with it experiencing different levels of symptoms and numerous 'flare ups'.

(I am planning on writing a blog post dedicated to living with M.E., so I won't go into it too heavily now.)

At the moment, and for the past few months, I am finding it increasingly more difficult to get through each day, and doing anything other than my shifts at work, is near to impossible.

Including putting pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, engaging my brain to create.
And that makes me very sad.

I want my career to be in writing. I desperately want my blog to grow and have wonderful content. I very much would like to continue my Journalism course I have started but have no energy to pick back up.

My heart and soul is in writing; my body says no.
And if writing is too difficult, what else is there? If writing is too difficult, how the hell am I still on my feet all day every day rushing around?

All of my energy (literally all), is being put in to work and keeping my job. But I know, I can feel, this cannot go on for much longer. I am running out of energy, and most of all, strength.

My limbs are now so weak, I wake up feeling like I have trekked the Amazon jungle. A heavy dull ache consuming my legs and my head feeling like it's been stuffed with cotton wool.
And the struggle is all too real to force myself out of bed and go to work.
It's not where I should be and the time for complete burn out is lingering in the not so distant future.

And that's a worry. A big worry.

So blogging has taken a back seat and I've missed it terribly. And I'm not going to make any promises to blog daily or weekly or even monthly. I will blog when I have the strength and energy, and that may be tonight or tomorrow and then again in a few weeks; who knows?

But I do miss it, and if there was any way I could dedicate more time to it, I would.

All that remains this morning (it's 6.50am) is to finish my coffee & croissant and get ready for work. No im not feeling fit enough and no im not looking forward to it, but it is what it is.

From the epitome of happiness itself,

Amy x