Maybe it’s the fact that I’m poorly, but I’ve been reluctant to blog as I didn’t know what to write about. I’m reading a book by Danny Wallace, which is essentially his columns for a magazine and it’s brought something to my attention again – that I need to have more of a “point” to my blog posts. So here’s the point of this blog: I need to learn to be more accepting of the times that I am unwell.

The problem is that in the last month, I’ve felt pretty grotty to be honest. Under the weather, don’t know whether I am coming or going, stressed, too much to do, under the weather. Discussions with friends have been interesting – where is the line where you admit defeat and that you actually need to take to your bed? There’s no option to stay in the house around little people and husbands and loaf about, because you get drawn into stuff, so it’s bed or carry on as normal in my experience. On Friday, when I could barely get out of bed, let alone get to a presentation, I realised I’d hit my point of needing to take to my bed. But being in Glasgow, with a presentation to do, it wasn’t an option. But by 8pm, I was home, the boys were at Nanna and Grandad’s for an impromtu sleepover and I was in bed post bath by 10.30pm. I felt bad, because I’d not seen them for 24 hours. But at the same time, they were happy – I dispensed the lego star wars and they were happy to stay there, so I made the most of it.

But right now, I’m not feeling any better. And it’s Sunday, nearly 5pm. I’ve been out of bed for an hour now, and just want to go back to it. I think I qualify for it – I’ve got yellow gunk coming from my ears, nose and throat. Nice? I know, you should be here for it and am sweating like I’m having what my mum calls “tropical moments” ad infinitum. I expected to be right for my working week tomorrow, but maybe I’m not going to be. And that freaks me out. I’ve got to learn that I need to look after myself better, so I am not vulnerable to this. But having said that, I’ve not missed a day of work in over 12 months, so it’s not like I’m a slacker. So why do I feel like one?

After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul and you learn

that love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t always mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises,

and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes ahead,

with the grace of a woman,  not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans

and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight. After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much,

so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure, you really are strong, you really do have worth, and you learn and you learn.

With every goodbye, you learn.

Veronica Shoffstall

I write some of these blogs, like they are a teenage diary and forget that people are out there, reading them, so if this is too much of a ramble, I’m sorry about that, but I wanted to put it out there, so I can reflect on it later.

I met Lovely Bloke on a Thursday and that weekend I was working, so I didn’t see him again until the Tuesday night. He came to my much loved flat in Biggleswade and stayed the night. I still have the custard cream wrapper from that date, when we sat next to the river with a takeaway coffee and biscuits, chatting. I went to his house on the Wednesday and didn’t spend another night in my flat again. That was it. Decision made.

This was a risky thing to do and caused lots of people to roll their eyes at me – not least because I’d met someone earlier that year, decided to be “spontaneous” and move to Leeds with him, until he admitted that whilst he’d been up there and me in Welwyn, that he’d been having what amounted to friends with benefits sex with a work colleague, because he couldn’t just have sex on the weekends.  And after that, I’d met the Tesco bloke, who I got on with really well, incredibly well. The fly in the ointment there was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to have children and I knew I did. So that one hit the buffers as well.

All these blokes – 14 of them – (in 9 months, ahem…) were met via internet dating and I was having lots of fun along the way – adventures, exploring new places, meeting new people, it was brilliant. But then when I met Lovely Bloke, his life was all set up. I used to ask him if his real wife and children were hidden under the stairs, in the cubby hole. He was attractive (and still is), had a lovely home, a settled work life, great friends and all that was missing was someone to share it with. I couldn’t work out why he wasn’t already with someone – was there something wrong with him that he wasn’t telling me?

Nonetheless, with 2005 being my year of experimenting and trying new things, I decided to go for it with Lovely Bloke, because I really liked him and couldn’t find anything wrong with us being together. The latter bit was just as important to me because I’ve got a very problem orientated brain… I never looked back, until after I’d got rid of my flat and thrown away many of my belongings, because they weren’t as nice as Lovely Blokes, and didn’t really fit in his grown up house. I wasn’t going to be painting a random duck in the corner of his bathroom like I had done in my old place. It was a grown ups house.

And that’s what I’ve got now, a grown ups life, a grown up relationship, a family – bringing with it, grown up responsibilities.

Picking a kitchen, from scratch, has been a big project for me, with all sorts of layers of significance to it. What colour shall we have, where should we put it, should we build an extension whilst we’re at it, what’s a reasonable price to pay for a cooker, do we want a real wood floor or not, is it morally ok to pay £3,000 for a worktop. All sorts of decisions to think about. It’s made me realise that I’m a grown up!!!  And I’ve got to stop questioning that fact. It is what it is, a grown up life and I’ve got all the benefits of it, so I have to accept the responsibilities that come with it. Including working out where cups, plates, bowls and tins of tomato soup should go.

So on that note, I’m going back to it. I’m so proud of Lovely Bloke for having the vision to get this done. I couldn’t visualise what it would be like, but he could, so I went along with it. And now I’m pleased I have, because it’s lovely. Just lovely. Shame he never reads my blog because then he might know how grateful I am to him for all his hard work, persistance and patience, long after I had chucked my toys out of the pram over it.

Maybe I’m not quite a grown up yet after all…

Goodnight 9.11.2011. A decade on, and I still remember where I was, what I was feeling and how it was a really important time for me. I didn’t follow through on the resolutions that I made that day, for a few years. But when I did, 9.11 was a date that stayed in my mind, for lots of reasons, not least because of the resolutions I’d made in my mind on that day, to make the most of every opportunity that came my way, to stop beating myself up for decisions I’d already made where things hadn’t worked out and to know that somehow, at some point, I was going to become single again. And I’d assumed that it would be for good. And that life was/is too short to not make the most of it.

I don’t want to sound overly self absorbed about it. Please don’t be offended that I’m not writing about families who have lost loved ones as a result of anything 9.11 related. I’ve lit my candles. I’ve said my prayers for families who have been affected. And I’ve thanked him upstairs that the awful things that happened have gone on to bring people together, to help them make life changing decisions and in time, to move on to make the most of their lives.

I look forward to going back to NY at some point, to ground zero, to see how NY is moving on, commemorating the lives of those we’ve lost and making the best of the sadness that day brought us. And that in itself will be me ticking something off on my own list, of making the most of my life. It all comes full circle.

What events have shaped your thoughts? Your outlook? Your approach to life?