Mum Guilt

I think I’ve definitely titled a previous blog mum guilt but I’m doing another one because these last weeks I’ve felt it. In the 4 and a half years I’ve been a parent I’d say it’s only the last year that I’ve managed to keep a tighter lid on the guilt. This is because most of the time, I know I’m doing my best and that has to be enough, doesn’t it?However every so often imposter syndrome will strike and I’ll have a wobble and feel like a shit mum. That happened last week. You may have read somewhere on my socials that I’ve been ill again (rolls eyes.) It’s been bad, I had a UTI that had me feverish for 8 days and kicked off a PEM flare like never before. On top of my day to day fibro symptoms and hormone fluctuations I have been sleeping the days away and Ciara my daughter, made a few comments about when I would be better. She said she was fed up because I’d been unwell since Halloween! She also said she had been wishing in her dreams for me to get better. It hurt my heart, because I try really hard to make an effort to be present in her life even when I’m feeling unwell, we do movie afternoons in my bed and make dens on the bedroom floor so she can feel close to me even when I’m laid up. Then I try desperately to make up for the flare days on the good days and we cram in activities when we can.

I have had to rely on my husband and my mum to do many of the school runs and activities these past weeks, so I’ve been feeling pretty redundant and guilty in return. Of course not everybody is in a position to lean on family for support and I know how lucky I am to have that option. With recent lockdowns and tier restrictions we’ve had those taken away from us somewhat and there are less people to lean on for support now, the bubble getting smaller. It feels as though I’m going backwards to the early days of parenthood where I felt like I was letting her down because I didn’t breast feed and I couldn’t establish a routine with a baby that screamed 15 hours a day. She woke up the other night after having a bad dream, thankfully a rare occurrence, but when I questioned her about it she said her dream was of me being cross. This really upset me because despite my constant state of being pissed off, it’s so rare for me to get cross with Ciara and that’s not a ploy to get you onside, it’s the truth. She is so rarely naughty she doesn’t have a lot of tellings off, but I have been more stressed than usual recently, and I’ve done some shouting at Shaun. I forget that she hears and understands everything now, she takes it all in. I don’t want her childhood memories to be of me in bed or me shouting at daddy but I feel powerless to prevent either somedays.

So whilst berating myself relentlessly about all the things I’m doing wrong I tried to tell myself that I also do a lot right. Shaun reminded me that Ciara remembers Halloween because I threw her a party and picnic with one of her friends. He reminded me how I never forget to be creative and go all out for school dress down days and elf of the shelf adventures. He reminded me that I never break promises and I don’t give her false hope and that whilst she is complaining about my being sick, it’s only because she wants more fun with mum.

I talked to a few of my friends that are mums recently to find out if they felt the same and they all said yes. They all said that this year has seen their patience wear thinner than ever, their ability to juggle the work/life/parenting quagmire has suffered and lines have been blurred. Self isolation and working from home with kids has seen to many mum meltdowns. One of my friends actually said to me: What would you say to me if I were you, Steph? Would you tell me I’m a shit mum for being unwell or losing my rag occasionally? And of course the answer is, no, I wouldn’t.

I feel like guilt is something we have to live with throughout our lives whether or not we’re parents, but as parents, every decision we make for our kids is based on assumption and guess work. There is never a right or wrong answer when parenting. There is consideration and gut instincts and pros and cons, but that’s pretty much it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, there’s no handbook, there’s winging it, and there’s doing your best, do plenty of both, and you’re probably doing ok.

With Christmas comes a lot of pressure. In the world of parent bloggers there’s a whole heap of posts just waiting to press your mum guilt buttons, and there was a time when I would compare my parenting to perfect Instagram pictures on other mum accounts, but not anymore. I’ll keep it real and tell you, I still compare myself sometimes, how I look and what I’ve achieved, but I never compare my parenting, because I know that being a mum is as unique to me as my fingerprint. We all have morals, traditions and family values and they’re never the same as someone else’s. So if you too are feeling a bit overwhelmed with guilt, just remember you’re not alone and you’re not a shit mum! My mum once said to me that shit mum’s don’t worry about being shit, they just are, but good mums always worry about being good enough. How true is that!?

Your best is enough.

Misophonia – What is it?

I am often overwhelmed by noise. It makes my skin prickle. I never used to feel like that. Not really. Then I had a kid who screamed for 15 hours a day every day for 9 months and I forgot what quiet felt like.

But that noise sensitivity did not end when she stopped screaming. I get increasing amounts of rage about noise. It could be listening to someone eat loudly whilst I’m trying to read. Having a husband who snores is a prime example of the rage I experience with repetitive sounds. If you have a husband/wife/partner who snores you will understand.

If Ciara is talking and someone else tries to speak to me, like I will literally tell them all to shut up and speak one at a time because I cannot cope with the pitchy sounds of their voices permeating my brain. Take zoom meetings for example, they boil my piss, because nobody knows when to talk and everyone talks at once. If I’m reading or working I have to do it in silence. If I’m eating and I can hear your chewing over mine I might tell you to stfu too.

It’s no surprise that the level of rage I feel increases during my luteal phase and sometimes I will literally (and ironically) scream for quiet when I’m due on my period. Or when I’m tired. Or when I’m in pain, and sometimes when I’m feeling perfectly ‘normal’ whatever that is.

Today I’ve been working from home and the dog, has been noisily gnawing at shit that isn’t food. My daughter came home from school with 25 tales about her day that she needed to tell me all at once, and she is currently downstairs learning letters and is speaking about 5 octaves too high in triumph of her achievements. I am seeking (unsuccessfully) the quiet my brain is desperate for in my room.

I know it’s a joke really, people with kids should know better than to get uptight about noise right? But I cannot zone out. My neighbours noisily run up and down their stairs every night between 9pm and 11pm I dunno what the fuck they’re up to but as soon as I hear it I cannot focus on anything else.

I know it’s not rational and I know I need help because losing my shit every time someone disrupts my quiet is not practical or productive. Give me silence and the sound of my own heart beating would probably still piss me off. So what is this random condition I seem to have acquired – I know what you’re thinking ‘another condition’ but ‘hear’ me out. This condition is called Misophonia, and it’s way more common than you might think.

The sound sensitivity is a real thing, and it’s most commonly found in females. Not everyone will experience the same reaction, for some it may be mild and for others complete extremes. We’ve established my default setting is extreme, as is my reaction.

It’s unknown what causes Misophonia and it isn’t suggested to be brought on by one specific event but can occur at anytime during our life cycle.

For me personally my go to emotive reaction to noise is always rage. It’s swiftly followed by the need to flee the scene. Sometimes I leave the culprit and take myself outside to gulp for air. No exaggeration. I once stood in a food queue with my husband (then boyfriend) and had to leave because the person in front of us did not stop talking in an animated pitch and I couldn’t for all my reasoning zone out. Sometimes it’s a background noise, sometimes it’s someone speaking and other times it’s a barely noticeable minuscule sound that my brain has sought out.

There isn’t much available in terms of treatment, definitely not in form of medication, but after research I’ve found there are some things I can do that might help. Like expose myself to specific sounds on repeat and try and convince my brain it doesn’t want to smash the house up in response.

I’ve decided to set myself some trials because let’s face it telling a customer to shut the fuck up for talking too loudly or too fast isn’t appropriate. Quieting your family when they have something to tell you, isn’t fair. And smashing the house up isn’t an affordable or constructive escapade. I’ll keep you informed with my findings but for now if you think you have misophonia check out this article on Web.md

To the you that feels too much.

Some days if not many, I feel like life is too much for me.

Too problematic

Too demanding

Too stressful

Too hard

Too expensive 

Too ominous

So I had a think about how I can break it down, because in all honesty I am all too often feeling as though I am one meltdown away from a psychotic break, and that isn’t a healthy way to live.

That’s when I realised problems are unavoidable, but I have the power to stop reacting to them and start tackling them with a clearer head. 

Most of the demands I speak of, I put upon myself. I am not able to meet the unrealistic expectations of my own making. However I am able to lower my expectation all together and treat myself with more kindness. Celebrate the small successes and work a little harder to focus on a solution based outlook.

Stress is part of life, but it doesn’t have to be the soul dictator of mine. The only reason it sinks it’s claws deep into my psyche is because I feed it with my adrenaline fuelled responses. I am highly sensitive and I am emotive but I don’t have to let my overriding emotion be stress.

Life is hard. It can be. It is. Though treating myself with disscontempt seems to come easy. Why is that? What can I do to change how I view situations? Could I perhaps allow myself more time to process difficulties? I think considering the amount of time I spend feeling like I’m climbing Ben Nevis it’s possible there’s room for improvement on my processing techniques.

Expenditure is essential to the cost of living, but it doesn’t have to be essential to my happiness. Material things are not that important to me so why do I always feel like I am missing out when I can’t afford stuff? Maybe because I spend too long comparing myself to my peers instead of accepting like our thoughts, opinions and lifestyles, our budgets are different.

I don’t believe a positive outlook will automatically grant you a positive life. What I have learned over time is the people I have come across with bigger problems than my own, people facing harder challenges and worse health, all seem to be more optimistic than I am. So maybe, I’ll try and count my blessings more often and throw away the curse that is negativity. I gain nothing from it and it gains everything from me.

My whole life I have felt as though I am too much for some people. It has taken me 30 (and then some) years to accept, they are just not my people. I’ve been battling with the ‘too’ instead of accepting just being me. It’ll come as no surprise to my family and friends that I feel this way because I’ve felt for a long time like I’ve been told I’m….

Too loud 

Too dramatic 

Too sensitive 

Too outspoken 

Too fiery

Too wild 

Too intense 

Too blunt 

If I had to describe myself now I would still use a few of the above words, but I would drop the too and I’d try and rephrase, because nobody has the right to tell me I am ‘too’ anything.

Yes as I mentioned, I am highly sensitive, but that makes way for empathy, for compassion. I care, not too much, there is no too much. I am caring, and that is something the world needs more of. It’s ok to care. In fact it’s good, until it isn’t, and you care too much about what other people think. I don’t want to do that anymore. 

Yes I am fiery, but only when it comes to things I believe in, I am passionate and I am driven by things that excite me. They are not the same things that excited me 10 years ago. Now I am excited by books, and words, and art. I’m excited by flavours and food and Sundays in bed. Safely replacing 10 jägers and a scrap outside the kebab shop. I’m excited AF when my daughter comes home with a bronze star or shares her sweets with her little best mate.

I am blunt, because I can’t fake anything. It’s funny really that I’ve been coined a ‘drama queen’ because my acting skills are fucking awful. My face will say everything my mouth forgets. If anything, I might be ‘too’ honest, but only because I genuinely believe honesty is always the best policy, and my sensitivity, believe it or not actually makes me quite a good judge of character. I don’t have the time, and I DEFINITELY ain’t got the energy to pretend. 

I WAS wild, now I am about as far from wild as a candle flickering into winter giving off vague scents of unwashed hair and 2 day old pyjamas. I am the opposite of wild, providing the opposite is not chilled. No, I’m not chilled, because I worry. I worry because I care. I want to be better. I want people to see me for the better person I am because I deserve that. Are you still with me?

I am still intense, because once I start speaking I really spill my guts. My opinions are emotive, and I have no façade. I do not hide myself behind pretence. I am intensely vulnerable and I am open. 

This can be a blessing and a curse. I overshare, but I also over love. I know if I was advising a friend on these qualities I would tell them both are ok.  

I am a complex mass of physical pain and panic. Of memories I’d rather forget and a future I’m desperate to control. To panic is to care. To be aware of your faults isn’t heroic or admirable, not really, but owning them and trying to fine tune them takes effort. And effort itself is admirable. 

I have had struggles, but they are not worse or more severe than those of others, they are just mine, they are part of me. They shape me, and I have no doubt. Not one speck of doubt, that I am a better person because of them. 

I am not too much. 

I’m just me.

You can also read this blog here at House 21

Here we go again, sertraline.

When I recorded last months #PMDD diary I mentioned I’d started taking antidepressants again, but only during the luteal phase of my cycle. Unfortunately my symptoms have not improved greatly in the months since I decided I didn’t want to be here anymore (again).

When I say not improved, what I mean is not enough for me to do this on my own. So here I am again, where I’ve been for almost 20 years, trying to get a grip on my mental health with the help of antidepressants full time.

I am still here, so I’d be lying if I discredited their power in helping me get through dark days, but when you live on a cocktail of drugs for survival, it can make you feel like you’re never really moving forward, just treading water.

Antidepressants for breakfast, painkillers for lunch, more antidepressants for nerve pain at tea time, a side of beta blockers, followed by occasional benzos for supper.

I often feel like I’m failing by being so dependent on medication, but I weigh it up with my need to be able to function.

I’ve made many positive changes over the years for my mental health.

I very rarely drink alcohol anymore and have drank only 3 times in all of 2020. Though I feel no better for it really, I’ve not missed hangovers, and truthfully, I’m scared of it now.

I’m scared of doing ANYTHING that might trigger a migraine, a flare up, PEM. I’m scared of walking too far, or dancing too hard, or staying still too long. I’m scared of things I used to enjoy, and not enjoying, is depressing. I know I feel better if I don’t over plan, if I have a day in between activities and I know I feel better if I get enough sleep, but trying to implement that into a modern world where we have to work, and parent and show up for shit, is hard.

When I think about how hard it is I also try to think about how lucky I am.

Because if I don’t think about the good things I will be forced to believe there are no good things, and that is simply not true.

So how do I remind myself of everything that’s great when all I can see is what’s not? I look at my family. That’s it, I see them and I am reminded of my luck 💗 Though I don’t imagine they feel the same about being stuck with this bitch 🤣 This is your Tuesday night reminder, to TAKE YOUR MEDS💊

THINGS I WISH I’D SAID TO MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY WHEN I WAS DIAGNOSED CHRONICALLY ILL.

Nobody, least of all me, is disputing how hard it is to live with, and be around someone with a chronic (ergo forever) health problem.

After all, the adjustment is hard enough on us spoonies ourselves after diagnosis, and we get away without actually having to watch ourselves in pain. That is a job I would never wish on anyone, and yet it’s the job my family have. Knowing this will be a problem for the rest of our lives, wondering if one day the good days will dissolve all together and all we’re left with is immeasurable pain and depression.

The thing about pain is, it ages you. Whether physical or mental, it grinds you down, it sucks the joy from your life and makes you bitter. Acceptance is a nice word, but nobody really accepts being in pain every day. We are born fighters, naturally trying to recover, to fight our way back to better health and happier times. Yet so often we feel like giving up. When I thought about writing this blog I wondered how I was going to talk about what I need without sounding like an ungrateful egomaniac. I realised though, it doesn’t matter how I sound, I need what I need. We all need things, and it doesn’t make you a failure if you need support when you break your leg, so why do I feel like a failure asking for support for an incurable illness?

1. The first and most valuable thing anyone who orbits my life can do, is research. Do your homework, learn about what it is I live with. Not only will it help you understand, it will take some of the pressure off of me to explain it to you. I want to help you understand but sometimes talking about it is painful.

2. Once you’ve looked up the condition(s) keeping your eyes open for news and ways to continue to support me. Please don’t look up how to cure my illness, because if you’ve done your research you’ll already know it’s incurable, but I appreciate every effort you make to learn about the kind of things that can support me in leading a normal life.

3. Make allowances for me. I don’t mean for example, if I’m not very nice to you. Nobody should have to make allowances for other people’s shitty behaviour. What I mean is, when I cancel last minute, or I forget things please don’t take it personally. I want to be there, if I agreed to come when you asked me to it’s because I absolutely wanted to. So if I’m not there on the day, it’s because I physically can’t be. Know that if I’m sounding off about how shit I feel, it’s because I do indeed feel shit, and know I’m always here for you too, even if I can’t always be there in person, I will also do everything in my power to support you in ways I am able.

4. Don’t forget about me. You have probably learned by now that the night’s out we used to have aren’t that feasible anymore. So invite me for lunch instead, come round for coffee, let’s go for a walk. I still want to see you. I still want to socialise, I just might sometimes have to do it a little differently.

5. When I post awareness campaigns or share posts about my conditions on social media, don’t scroll past with an eye roll. Don’t judge me for trying to get the support and understanding I need. Even if you don’t read them all the way through, give them a like, show me that you’re remotely interested in what’s going on in my life. Because for the most part, my illness is my life. No matter, how much I wish it wasn’t. My advocacy is the only thing that makes my illness hold any value, the idea that I might be able to help people is so very, very important to me. When you’re chronically ill, the likelihood of it having taken years to get accurate diagnoses is highly probably. So when we refer to our conditions by their relative terms it’s not as a badge of honour, it’s as part of our acceptance in finally knowing what it is that’s wrong with us.

6. Don’t compare me to other people. Your sister’s boyfriend’s cousin may have the same illness, but she isn’t me. She might work full time and be mildly affected or she might be in a wheelchair. Our journeys aren’t the same because we aren’t the same person. By all means share her success, but please don’t assume because I can do things she can’t or vice versa that I suffer less, or more. Treat us uniquely, because we are unique. It’s not a competition, you wouldn’t say to two people with cancer that one of them must have it worse because their hair has fallen out. You’d know it might be because they are having different treatment, or because their cancer might be more invasive. It’s the same for us with other illnesses too.

7. Believe me. Believe me when I tell you I’m having a bad day, or that I’m struggling. Know that if I’ve summoned up courage to open up to you or ask for support, it’s because I need it. Genuinely. It’s not because I just fancy a pity party. I don’t want your sympathy, I want your empathy. Nobody chooses this life. Don’t tell me I can get better if I do XY or Z, because I’ve probably tried it already, and secondly it makes me feel as though your questioning my integrity.

8. Know that I am still me. I still want to hear about your life, your escapades and your dating dilemmas. I may not be doing the same things you’re doing, but I’m still your friend. I still want in on the latest gossip and I still want you to feel like you can come to me.

9. Understand that my symptoms change, sometimes daily. If I omitted to mention something to you last time we spoke it’s probably because I didn’t know about it/ have it or understand it, then. Like with all health conditions knowledge, side effects and treatments are being updated all the time. Our body is usually the first to update us on the changes.

10. Don’t avoid conversations about my disability. Sometimes I want and need to talk about it. You won’t offend me by bringing it up, it’s not a taboo subject. Ignoring it all together it more offensive. Saying things like ‘at least you don’t have’ is not perspective it’s hurtful.

I am very lucky that I have a supportive family. I have a very helpful husband and an amazing mum and sister who always support me in any ways they are able. We support each other. We do so by being open with each other. I am as supportive of them as they are of me, it’s not one sided just because I’m sick. We are able to move forward as a family because we talk about our issues and support each other accordingly. The same applies to my friends. I am blessed with friends who are empathetic and patient. They make allowances for me because they know I would do the same for them. I wrote this because it’s something I wished I’d had the courage to say early in my diagnosis. I wish I could of then explained what it was I needed from people. If I was able to explain better to people what I was seeking it may have prevented harboured resentment and passive aggressive misfires. I hope by sharing this I will help more people gain the confidence necessary to explain their needs.

You can also read this blog on House21 UK

Royce Lingerie – Non wired sports bra review.

Black and hot pink piping is a vibe

Hello Divas. This is my second collaboration with Royce Lingerie and I’m yet to find fault with them. I don’t do dishonest reviews, even when I’m gifted a product I honour it on the proviso that my findings are genuine. So here goes. Now, sporty probably isn’t a word you’d automatically conjure up when thinking of me, so what is it about this sports bra I found so great?

Firstly, it’s cotton, secondly it’s non wired and thirdly its support ability despite being without wire is fantastic. There will be some skepticism around this I’m sure, especially for bigger busted ladies like myself but I can assure you this bra has been tried and tested by me. Because it’s cotton it’s recommended for low impact sports and that was the aim for me when trialling. I’m gradually adding exercise back into my health routine after being very sporadic in my approach previously.

The first test for me was taking it for a hike. I have a new walking buddy in the form of a french bulldog and he’s been spurring me on come rain or shine to get out walking. This week we walked for over an hour completing my target of 10,000 steps uphills and down steps and back whilst wearing Royce’s sports bra and I’ll be honest it felt weightless. That in itself is something that never happens to me. Usually when walking I get frustrated and uncomfortable if my boobs are bobbing around all over the place and occasionally slapping me on the chin. So you can gather that I’m very pleased to report neither was a factor.

Us at the top of Troopers Hill Bristol

The second test was when I tried Pilates. Now I know neither of these are considered high impact on the standard fitness scale, but when you have large boobs everything is considered high impact. I can honestly recommend it as both a weightless and comfortable sports bra that also looks great. Going back to the fact it’s cotton it absorbs sweat better than some of those awkward looking, shiny nylon sports bras that can leave you feeling like you’re boobs have been sweating inside a shell suit.

It’s classic black design with the hot pink piping really is gorgeous and as with all of their bras it’s understated without being ugly. It still looks great and I’ve even worn it as a tshirt bra just for the fact that it’s comfy and gives your breasts an uplifted and sculpted shape under clothes without the Mrs Doubtfire separation so oftenly seen with sports bras. In my honest opinion it’s a perfect design to base the future of gymwear around, so that us larger chested ladies can feel confident knowing we can get great support whilst still looking on trend. Available upto size K shop here Impact Free.

You can also view this article on http://www.house21.co.uk

I SWEAR IN FRONT OF MY KID, AND I MAKE NO APOLOGIES FOR IT….

Ok so if you followed my stories on Instagram over the weekend you’ll know this sparked great debate or rather, C-gate as I’ve now coined it. I said the word cunt on my stories, then quickly followed it up with the fact that Ciara was in bed with me at the time. She was, but she had headphones on so I was less inclined to be choosy about my words.

I say the word cunt a lot. It’s a firm fav in my house. If you met my mum you’d think she was posher than Hyancynth Bucket, but she is also a fan of the C word, years of being partnered with a builder will do that. If you’ve been following me for ages you’ll know it’s in constant use in my company, in our circle of friends and in general. I think I picked it up whilst working in a transport cafe back nearly 20 years ago, where builders and tradesmen throw it around like a term of endearment. I don’t go into the corner shop and chat on the phone whilst calling my husband a C U Next Tuesday. Nor do I use it at work, but I do swear in good company and I do swear often.

My daughter hears the words fuck and shit daily, yet she’s only said either once, back when she was two years of age and describing a fly as ‘that fucking fly’ (her exact words.) And she called our dog a shitbag recently, I assume after hearing me say it. I swear in front of my child, I don’t swear at her. I think there’s a significant difference. When she has on occasion repeated words that aren’t age appropriate we explain to her that they are grown up words and she isn’t to say them until she’s a grown up. I don’t judge people based on their extensive, colourful or in cases, otherwise limited vocabulary. Having said that, here I am explaining myself. The reason I feel like this needs a justification is because after having a lengthy discussion with my husband about getting trolled because of my use of it, and he said ‘Well if you put yourself out there, that’s what happens’ and I responded with ‘That’s the kind of ignorance that causes people’s suicide.’

Why? I’ll tell you….. It’s absolutely not ok to berate someone online just because they use a word you’re not okay with. Please let me be clear I am not referring to people using facist or racist terms, of course that is NEVER okay, but in circumstances similar to my own where I used a word to describe a crappy situation, I don’t feel it’s justified to attack my parenting.

If in a social setting someone told me they didn’t like the word I’d used I would apologise for offending them, sure. BUT if I use a word inside my home and post it on my Instagram it does not call for me to be dragged over hot coals in punishment because ‘I must be a terrible mother.’ Firstly – Get over it! And secondly – Scroll on by, hun!

I see things every single day about conspiracy theories, politics, and god knows what else, that I find distasteful. Do I message everyone who posts these things and ask them to sort their lives out? No. Why? Because I’m not a total ‘c*nt’ that’s why (pun one hundred percent intended)

I also don’t judge people based on words they use, how they speak, or similar. My daughter is loved more than life itself. Yes she has a hard time sometimes witnessing my health struggles, but she is never not loved. She has two loving parents, two sets of grandparents and 8 godparents 4 of whom are very much in her life, so she has plenty of people looking out for her making sure she is okay and cared for. Whatever you think about someone’s parenting, unless the child is in danger or being abused in some form it is not your place to tell the mother how to speak in front of them. It’s also never your place to give your unsolicited opinion on how someone speaks. I’ve met parents who never swear and their kids are still petulant and badly behaved, and I’ve met parents whose first language is profanity and their kids are some of the politest children on this earth. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, we all parent differently. Not wrongly.

Just because I am someone’s mum does not mean I automatically lose my own personality. I have made no promises under oath to never swear or get annoyed. I’m human. And I think other humans would do well to remember, to judge less, scroll on more often, and in essence Chill The Fuck Out and mind their own business. What’s that saying about keeping your mouth shut until you’ve walked a mile in someone’s shoes??? Yes, do that.

We are still telling Mums how to feel?

I feel like I needed to share this. Not just to moan about feminism and stereotypes (though there is some of that) but because it irks me that the message isn’t yet clear. For some unknown reason we still feel it’s our right to tell other mums how to parent. How to feel. We are still putting mother’s in boxes of ‘she should’ or ‘you’d think she would….’

So to put this into some context for you, my daughter started school the first week in September. It’s her first year. Before covid she was at preschool 4 days a week, but since covid she’s been home with me since March. No childcare because preschool didn’t reopen until September either, by which time she was ready to start school. The most common questions I’ve been asked since people learned she was set to start school are 1. When are you having another baby? And 2. I bet you’ll hate it when she’s at school won’t you?

Note question 2 is in fact a statement, posing as a question. An assumption based on zero background information. It’s only merit is that because my daughter is starting school the presumption is I’ll have too much time on my hands. I’ll be bored. I’m her mother so I’m bound to miss her implicitly when she isn’t around for any length of time, but more so when that time is spent at school. Right?

Well sorry to act offended at your presumption but it does in fact feel offensive that you assume my life is less fulfilling when I am not around my child. There’s an undertone that when I state how, in fact I’m excited for her to be starting her new journey, and I’m excited for me too, getting to have some time to myself again – it’s as though I’ve implied in some way that I don’t love her or I don’t enjoy being a mum.

What’s more disappointing is that these statements are usually made by other women. Perhaps women who do love being at home with the kids. Which by the way is perfectly fine. There’s no right or wrong way to be a mum. You might love being with them so much that you’re going to feel a sense of loss when they go to school. Nostalgia for their infancy, and that’s perfectly acceptable, but so is looking forward to them going to school, looking forward to snippets of alone time or getting back to work and routine. A lot of women have to work nowadays in order to support the household, and this means we have to leave our children, but just because we have to, doesn’t mean we can’t want to at the same time.

I love the quality time my daughter and I spend together but I also love time to myself.

My circumstances might be unique because I’m chronically ill, and this often means I need to lean on people for support with childcare, sending her to school just means less relying on others and more time to recover. I’ve waited a long 7 months for some rest and I will wait less than 6 weeks at the start of term, for a week off with her when half term comes around.

The climax or crux of this article is this. We all parent differently, we all feel differently about our children as they grow. Some long for the baby stage whilst I love the here and now stage. The one where’s she chatting, drawing me pictures and telling me she loves me. Just because you don’t miss your kids every minute of the 360 she spends at school a day, doesn’t mean I love her any less than the next mum. I feel like we need to get better at normalising feelings of discontentment in motherhood. Feelings of normalcy. Feelings of desperation and in this case the lack of feelings in regards to empty nest syndrome or ‘school mum life’

As mothers we are weighed down with responsibility, organisation, emotional reactions, not least the physical endurance that is required to keep up with our mini me’s. We don’t need to feel the weight of someone else’s judgement whoever that someone is, but particularly less from another mother. We’re part of the same club now hun. The Mum Club. And I think we should try and make it wholly inclusive. What do you think?

DM To Collab…..

Ok so here’s the thing. You’ve recently started growing your social media following and brands are approaching you with exclusive discounts. You think wow someone wants to work with me and bite their hand off for a freebie. Maybe it’s an umbrella from Amazon that someone is asking you to write a review for. Maybe they want to send you an exclusive discount code for recruiting brand ambassadors, or maybe they’re trying to sell you weight loss products because youd be perfect to represent their brand.

You don’t consider your self an influencer so you feel like you’re lucky to have any kind of opportunity for a freebie and you snap each one up eagerly. Next thing you know you have to write a caption bigging up an umbrella in the middle of a heatwave or promote weight loss shakes that taste like sick and give you a headache for a week.

The moral to this story is – Don’t fake it. If you don’t believe in something don’t try and sell it for a freebie. Because in doing so, you’re committing to work for free for a product you don’t even believe in yourself. The reason I’m writing about this now is because I was that girl who tried and failed to promote an umbrella. I hate umbrellas, they’re awkward, they get in the way and almost always break upon second use. Instead of saying that though, I tried to write a catchy caption about why this plain and badly made umbrella was the highlight of my week. I had a better experience when I stole one from the brolly bin on exiting a Cardiff restaurant during an April downpour.

Also noteworthy, if someone is commenting on your picture dm us to collab I can 99% guarantee that they are doing the exact same on another 1000 posts each week. Maybe even several times a week, thus meaning their collab offer is likely to be no more than an invite to apply. Or maybe it’s a discount code and an expectation on you to produce content for them, for FREE.

After learning the hard way that most people’s ideas of collaborations are in fact expectations, I now strictly only work with brands that work for me! Meaning I only promote products I am interested in, or that represent what I’m about. For example I recently collaborated with Royce Lingerie to promote their blossom bra, a non wired bra available in my mega size of a H cup.

Likewise I’ve promoted menstrual cups and self care products that promote wellbeing for women’s health. Being a chronic illness and mental health blogger as well as a mum means there are not always opportunities in abundance for product reviews or PR posts.

However, even if there were, I will never promote products that make false promises such as shakes that claim to contain all the nutrients you’ll ever need to sustain a healthy lifestyle, or pills and supplements that claim to fix health problems.

Be a grey goose in a pond full of swans

Suffering from chronic illness makes you a less than desirable candidate for some brands, as do my personal and often very sweary captions. I recently got offered a collaboration with a well know sanitary production company. I sent them all my insights and they asked me to be part of their latest campaign. I agreed, but upon them viewing my grid I was not deemed appropriate because of some of the language I use. Eg – I say Fuck, a lot! But that’s fine, because I don’t work for these brands. I created a blog as an outlet and a space to share my experiences, if I get offered payment or freebies of products that I’m interested in, I consider it a bonus. I’m not prepared sacrifice my integrity for a tub of Slimfast or some free tampons. If your purpose in life is to be an influencer then this blog might go against the grain. You may be thinking any work is work and that’s absolutely your choice. I don’t look down on people who have #Ads all over their grids, it’s just not for me. I don’t DM to collaborate with brands because I believe if they really wanted to work with me they would in fact be reaching out to me to offer me a collaboration opportunity.

I’m not suggesting you never do the reaching, I think it’s great to network and let people know you’re interested in their products but what I am saying is these secondary accounts commenting on your photos are not likely to make you the next big thing. And remember huns, that being famous on Instagram is the equivalent to being rich in monopoly….. #justsaying

Example caption from one of my recent grid posts

Blossom Bra review ~ The comfort craze.

You might of read my previous post on my huge boob struggle. Trust me when I emphasise the word struggle and tell you that it’s real!

Fear not though my dear D-K cup friends, I bring you good news. Actually it’s fucking fantastic if I’m honest, the girls at Royce Lingerie have gone and brought out a comfort bra in big booby sizes, and wait for it….. it’s not ugly! That’s right, this cute little comfort bra called The Blossom has it all, (or not because there’s no underwire) and I’m so here for it.

I’m forever moaning about pain caused by non supportive bras, shoulders, back aches, underwire boob imprints and because I live with Fibromyalgia I also get something called allodynia where your skin reacts to non painful stimuli as if it is indeed painful, sometimes it can feel like I’m being scorched with a blow torch and this is particularly noticeable in the areas that my bra touches. Not to mention around menstruation when they’re so fucking sensitive it can feel like the lacey number I chose to look cute in, is giving me boob thrush.

Underwires are the devil when it comes to comfort but how do you get that cute cleavage thing going on without one? How do you get a lift without separation?

Well…. you buy a blossom bra that’s how. Check this little beauty out

Complete with central drawstring to get the perfect amount of voluptuous décolletage on show. It’s the perfect combo of sports bra and crop top with maximum support without losing style.

Honestly it’s so comfortable I am considering never taking it off. I’m wearing my sister size of 36H and it fits my usual 34HH perfectly.

I was lucky enough to be gifted this bra but truthfully I’ll be buying it in the other colours too because it really is too good to be true. This particular design also comes in a nursing equivalent.

As if there’s more good news, it’s only £36!!! Whilst this might seem a lot for ladies able to shop in Primark for underwear, for us chesty girls this is a steal. I’ve paid £65 for a bra before and it was ugly as ass.

Go on, treat yourself and your Bristols to a little bit of luxury and a lot of comfort, you won’t regret it. The girls at Royce are more than happy to talk you through sizing queries and they offer super speedy delivery too. You can find them on Instagram here @Roycelingerie