Time to find Ali again

When I started this project, this daily blog, I had no idea what was going to happen.  No idea what I would be writing about, my only criteria to stay authentic, true and share my story.


It seems that sometimes that openness and rawness offends some.  Maybe offend isn’t the right word…. Too hard to read?  Too close to the bone?  Too close to their own truth?  Too embarrassed that they don’t know what to do or say?  Or perhaps it is the feeling you have in a film, when something awful happens – you aren’t sorry for the person in the film, you are sorry for yourself when you imagine yourself in the same position?


There is no point justifying to myself again why I write this blog or publicise it, having done so many times before.  But why is it, that the one comment that questions why or what I do, in amongst the countless that support, cheer and praise it, is the one that stays with me?


The one yesterday in particular, lingered on my conscious for longer than normal.


I appreciate that I am experiencing somewhat more than ‘post holiday blues’.  Returning home to the usual mountain of washing, monotony of daily household chores, parenting roles is always pretty depressing after the delights of being away.  In previous times, however, my life has been full.  So full.  I was on purpose, I had drive, enthusiasm, goals, dreams, hopes and desires.  Right now I am bereft of anything.  My role as a wife questionable.  My role as a mother always under fire.  My role as a leader, business owner and partner diminished with lack of confidence and self belief.  My role as a volunteer non existent as I have nothing to give. My role as a friend suffocated by shame.


The only thing keeping me afloat was writing, my blog.  Feeling vulnerable, in a highly sensitive state, any little glance feels like a blow.


Fortunately, there are a few people left I trust and they were there today.  Some on the end of a phone line, making me laugh, showing me solidarity, making me feel safe and loved.  A couple leaning on a school corridor wall showing empathy, kindness and trivia.


And one who literally sat me down, fed me and hauled me out of my black hole of despair.  I am not really sure how she did it, but she was the Angel of Hope and Inspiration.  She has helped me take the first step out of my head, reminded me of my own lesson – if you don’t like where you are, you have to change; to break the cycle, you need to change your habits.


If Ali is lost, lonely, confused, then it is time to find her.  Show her a blank piece of paper and get her to start writing down what she wants to create.  I have done it before, I can do it again.  And rather than feeling overwhelmed by the loss of my identity as I did this morning, I am now beginning to feel the first tingle of excitement in re-writing it again.


And just like that, my headache is gone.



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