Monday 15 September 2014

Nothing is easy.

I had a conversation this morning with a close friend. It went something like this...

F-It's hard I guess, you want to do fun stuff but it can be hard?
Me-When I read my own typing it seems impossible. You can't imagine being happy. You don't want to be
F-No, exactly
Me-You feel guilty at the idea. And then you remember why you weren't happy. So you aren't happy. Everything normal feels different. Boiling the kettle is different
F-Of course
Me-Sitting here typing is different. I'm different
F-You have to find a new normal. Everything has changed
Me-But you don't want to. It feels like you are betraying her
F-You aren't.
Me-Thinking of switching on my laptop feels like I don't care. It's hard. It's really hard
F-Don't do it if you don't feel ready but, equally it may help. Remember that she loved the blog, and all the things she enjoyed through it too, she would want you to find a way to carry on I think

And I typed those words, and I listened to myself, and I re-read them, and I heard my partner yesterday telling me to get back to the blog, and I thought of the reviews I have here, half-written and sitting there, and the things they're written about - the sandpit my 4 year old can't wait to go in after school, however cold it is out there now. The lovely time we had with the little ones at Chill Factore, and the gorgeous books we've been reading.

It's very hard after what's happened to have any confidence in anything I do. I have hardly cooked, I feel everything will be tasteless and insipid.  I have no confidence over anything I do with our children, I worry I did things wrong and I worry we don't really know them at all. It's very hard being that person, and I imagine very hard being a friend to that person, because you can't really do anything to make it better.

Nothing is easy now. Nothing is the same. I will never be the same. But Elspeth liked my blog, she read it, she was impressed with my achievements. Life may not be the same, and actually, we don't want it to be, but I'd be doing my whole family a disservice if I didn't switch on my laptop and pull myself up by the Bootstraps.

A whole wall of sunflowers made by the Foundation children at our school.


  1. I love your blog. Knowing you I know that it reflects your family so well. Now it has something devastating to reflect too but I do believe that this can still be a place for your achievements, for your fun and play. I think you can find a way to include Elspeth in this and it can be 'your place' to hopefully find some comfort, somewhere for you to express yourself, and somewhere to continue the amazing work from the last eighteen months plus. Sending love, as always xxx

    1. Thank you Pip. I shall certainly attempt to record the good and the fun. Had I not had the blog then we'd have far less of Elspeth's last 18 months to look at and reminisce, and I'm only grateful for that xx

  2. Remember you talked in your last post about every small step forward? I guess this is one of them. Your blog is a big part of you & if it provides brief respite in any way shape or form then that's a good think. Whilst it feels hard or even wrong to try & be happy it would be even worse to remain permanently sad - that's not what Elspeth would want for any of you. You're not forgetting her, just adjusting to a new landscape x x x

  3. I'm glad to see you blogging, not because I think it means you're moving on but because I think it will help you. Blogging has created so many memories of you and your family and I know in time you will be able to look back to posts and remember the things that we can sometimes forget when they're not written down. xx

  4. I love your blog. Blog when you're ready though - it will always be here, your readers will always be here and we will always be thinking of you. Posts like this are great - for you to write and us to read - but reviews can wait, I'm sure the companies involved will more than understand x

  5. I love reading your blog and I am pleased to see you blogging, however often, however sparsely - this is your place, to write, to be, to reflect and to find a new normal.

    Thinking of you always and reading your posts whenever you feel able to write them xxx

  6. Things are still so raw Jenny but if it helps to write things down, even if you don't hit publish then that has to be a good thing. You WILL find a way of doing things, even though it will never be the same. You are not betraying Elspeth coming back to your blog, I am sure she would want you to carry on with something you have worked so hard on and that has brought you and your family so much.

    You have so many people ready to listen to you whenever you are ready, me included xxxx

  7. It must be so hard but I'm sure she would have wanted you to carry on your amazing blogging journey. You've worked so hard to achieve the blogging success you have but also made some great memories from your writing to look back on. I love reading your blog and look forward to reading it in the future. Thinking of you. xx

  8. I don't feel I can add anything that hasn't already been said. I know I don't know you but I am thinking of you and your family xx

  9. I think about you, the rest of your family & Elspeth daily. Knowing how I felt last year when my 16 yr old daughter was suffering with depression, self harming, writing me suicide letters and admitted to 2 adolescent mental health units and worrying daily that it was going to end badly, I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. It's so tragic, I'm so sorry that this happened. I also know what you mean about not being good enough - I spent a long time minimising the amount of time I spent with my 6 year old son as I felt that what Lauren was going through must be my fault. I had monumentally failed as a mother so I shouldn't be around my youngest in case I failed him. It wasn't my fault though, I was/am a good mum. By no means perfect and without a doubt I have made mistakes, but I have always let my children know I love them and tried to do the best by them. Although I don't know you (although I have been at the same 2 recent events - the Urbis football museum & the chewitts Chill Factor - the latter of which I'm pretty sure me and my partner were sat at the same table as you and your sons (us eating loads of chewitts!)), I can tell from your blog, that you to are a good mother & that you prioritise your children's happiness - so try not to be too hard on yourself. If you want to "chat" at all feel free to email me - it can help talking to a stranger & if you wanted I would be quite happy to give you my tel. no via email, if you felt it would help you to talk. I honestly really feel for you & hope you find, in time, some way to be able to find peace xxxxxx (Sorry for the long comment).

    1. I think you're probably right. You were sat at the table with us for the Extreme Chewits. It was my 2 lads who ate all the Chewits - one of them ate 5 packs that day, goodness knows how he managed that. I've sent you another message elsewhere, but I'm so, so incredibly relieved for you that your daughter has come through the other side, asked for help and was able to get it, and can hopefully live out the rest of her life with peace xxx

  10. Jenny you have done nothing wrong, you've always struck me as a very caring person and wonderful Mum. Your blog is one of the first I looked at, you were the first person to give me a friendly reassurance over a crap intro video. You blog posts make me smile; having met you I hear your words as I read them. I hope the blog will give you some comfort over the months ahead.
    I'm sure Elspeth was very proud of you and would want you to carry on writing about life and Lego and everything between. I need you to start cooking again to give me some inspiration!! xx

  11. You are always in my thoughts always


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