Searching for doors that are open…

First of all, thank you to everyone who read my blog post – especially anyone who shared/commented/messaged me. Writing is definitely easier with feedback, because you can only know if you’ve communicated something well or worth sharing if people communicate back. Definitely twitter, instagram and the rest have killed that key part of blogging community in the last decade.

I feel strongly about getting more disciplined in writing more and finding ways to improve my writing.

This past week marked an anniversary of the day I got offered two dream jobs in one day. You might think ‘lucky you!’ and you’d be right. I know exactly how lucky I am. There had been a lot of applying and rejection for many years before that. A lot of envy. A lot of friendships lost because it was no fun being friends with me.

The last year has had a lot of change. It’s been positive mostly, but any change requires adjusting your life accordingly. It wasn’t an easy ride. Worth it? Yes. Easy? No.

However, summer is here, I’m now able to focus on one job. For the first time in my life I’m working 9-5. I still go away or work the occasional weekend (ok, at the moment because it’s marathon and sponsored walk season…there’s a lot of weekend work!) but I’m no longer working lots of evenings.

It’s a new era in the life of brunette koala, and I’m trying to navigate how to use this time. It would be very easy to sign up to do lots of things I’m being asked to do by church and Girlguiding. Some of them I will do. Some of them I won’t.

Is it selfish or is it what God wants to also use this time to pursue things I’ve always wanted to do? Like creative writing, dancing, surfing, photography and learning languages?

Last year, a few days after I got the phone call to invite me for an interview with the organisation I now work for, I snapped the above picture in Pressmennan Woods. A door that said ‘Open Me’. I saw it and felt the need to capture it, hoping with all my being that the door I had knocked on that seemed to be opening a crack would open fully this time. Rather than slamming it back in my face as so many doors I’d knocked had in the previous 3 years.

There are many more doors out there.

And I feel now is the time to search for them…and open them to see what’s on the other side.

 

 

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The story I don’t talk about so often…

When I first started blogging 11 years ago, it started as a journal. I was in my early twenties and the world was my oyster. I had healed from so many things during my years in Aberdeen and then all of a sudden all of that came undone. It made so little sense, and writing was the way I was able to talk about it, process it and unexpectedly found community in doing that.

A lot of my blogging was very personal, and I’ve always been an oversharer. I think it’s rebellion against my grandfathers who were all masons. I don’t like secrets. Secrets have a way of eating away and letting things fester and rot.

I used to share a lot on my blog about my faith too. I stopped doing that over the years, because I became a little ashamed about the church and how it treated people. I didn’t want people to make the assumption that because I held a belief in God that I would also follow very prejudice views that have hurt so many and therefore feel I should be avoided for fear of me judging or rejecting them.

A lot of my lovely friends that I made through blogging don’t share my belief in God, and yet they’ve all been very open to hearing about my experiences. They haven’t been weirded out when I’ve wrestled and questioned my beliefs. Or talked about some of the wackier moments like the day I was lying on a floor of a warehouse and got a vision of a woman in South Africa. Or how I came to work in a pregnancy crisis centre. Or the time God told me to pull off a motorway to drive to my Dad’s house before I even got a call saying he was being rushed to hospital. Or when God woke me up at 7 a.m. and told me to get baptised the following week.

Yep they’ve heard them all.

I’ve been a Christian (whatever that means) for 16 years. It’s now so every day that people just assume I grew up with a family that took me to church. Nope. Over those 16 years people ask how I ‘became’ a Christian. I will talk about how I went to university, met my friend who had been praying for an opportunity to share about her beliefs with her fellow residents and I provided that opportunity on a platter. I’ll talk about meeting other Christians, my friend from high school who was a Christian and going to an Alpha course.

I never talk about what I think was probably my first encounter with God. Not that I would have dared acknowledged it as that at the time.

But this is mental health awareness week. And maybe the time has come to take a big gulp and be open about it.

Knowing that after reading it you might think I’m ‘crazy’ or ‘deluded’ or ‘mad’.

Knowing that sharing this on a public forum could risk people I work with reading it.

Knowing that my family may read this, and most of them likely had no idea this event had even happened.

But I believe that the only way we can reduce stigma is by sticking our neck out and saying: “Hi. I’m BrunetteKoala, and this has happened to me…and I’m still here.”

And honestly? I don’t know if it’s scarier talking and no one reading or knowing that anyone could read it…

2018 so far…

There’s a lot been going on lately, and have to confess that my laptop playing up, the screen cracking and my iCloud having a wee life of it’s own, I’ve not been able to share life as much as usually do. Life over the last year has been incredibly busy, and last week marked a year since I got the call to invite me for an interview that has caused life to do the complete 180 I had been waiting for so long.

Please don’t misread that last sentence. I don’t believe the idea that life is all about luck. I wasn’t sitting on my butt waiting for something to come along. I was going to work, I was applying for jobs and at times I tried to keep studying…but I had so much rejection and it really takes it’s toll. As does living hand to mouth and never knowing how many hours work you are going to get, knowing if you take a holiday you are losing out on pay, being afraid of going to the optician, the dentist, not being able to pay a mortgage, losing friends because you can’t afford to socialise in the way they choose to. Knowing that every month you are away from the career you worked for is making it even tougher to get re-employed back into it.

There’s a lot of lucky people in the media who like to give inspirational interviews saying how they’ve worked hard and it’s not about luck. Well, quite frankly my experience tells me you need both.

The last 10 months I’ve worked in two jobs that I felt hugely passionate about. It’s not been all rainbows and kittens. First of all there’s the guilt of feeling like giving 100% to one is taking away from the other. Second is the exhaustion of trying to work flexibly to do both well. I naively thought that working full-time would give me my life back. It has to an extent, but actually there’s parts of the previous 10 years that I probably took for granted.

If you look at the friendships I have made in the last 10 years, a lot of people my own age and life stage aren’t a huge part of my life anymore. Mainly because I couldn’t go on big group holidays, go drinking at weekends and all the rest. For the last 3 years I worked pretty much every single weekend. The people who were around when I wasn’t working were people who were free daytime on weekdays. And they tend to be folks who are retired or stay at home parents. Hence, all the kids in my life.

Cue last summer, when all of a sudden I was only free on weekends. Add to that a late finish on a Friday night so would often be peeling myself out of bed on a Saturday. Sometimes if it had been an eventful shift that would still be playing on my mind and I wouldn’t have slept much. So Saturday was all about recovery! There’s been no play dates over breakfast or lunch. There’s been no meetings at the Zoo when my friend and I have been excited at opening the curtains to discover it’s not freezing/windy/bucketing rain. I miss it. I’ve been so lucky to have that time with my friends’ kids watching them grow up.

However, in January, I started getting my act together and booking in time with friends further afield. In February I decided to book an extra night in London to see my friend Judith and we discovered that Robert Pattinson actually lived 100 years or more and was painted by one of the Impressionists and was featured in an exhibition at the Tate Britain.

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And though we booked it a year and half ago, I also decided to take my time in London again when Ruth and I finally got to see Hamilton.

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This experience really needs a post all of it’s own. I’ll pop that on my to-do list. In fact today I’m with Ruth at her home in the West Midlands today because we accidentally ended up with two sets of tickets, so we’re going to see it for a second time this week. This time her friend Claire is coming with us. 🙂

And I followed this up with a couple of days with Nicola, Ben and their incredible son (my second godson). Unbelievably littlest godson is walking and talking. We went on a train, he introduced me to ‘Foffle’ (Waffle the Wonder dog), his “chuck” (toy kitchen) and I’ll be forever known as ‘Yaa-Yaa’.  They also introduced me to this amazing restaurant called Bill’s in Marlow when we were on a wee day trip. I was craving one the other day so badly I almost hopped in my car to drive all the way down there.

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Though I’m still nervous to book annual leave and take holidays as I feel horrific guilt and anxiety when I’m not working, I have booked to take a week off to do Surf Camp again. I’m hugely happy to have my friend Craig back this year and not only will be leading worship we’re also going to be archery instructors (!). I managed with a little bit of difficulty to pull myself out of bed on a Saturday to drive us up to the SU centre in Kinross where we were trained by a coach from Scottish Archery. We aren’t quite at the level of Merida yet, but by the end of the day we were at least hitting the circles on the target. I’m also hugely grateful that I got the chance to do this with the young people at my work when I took them on a residential weekend – so have got lots of ideas for games to use from the instructors at Rock UK! I’m hoping the rest of Craig’s clan are able to visit as they are another bunch of friends I’m missing since working full time.

I became a member of Stenhouse Baptist Church.

And haven’t been back to church since that happened due to being away for work (and struggling a bit with endo/IBS symptoms). I’ll hopefully be back next weekend though.

I’m also getting better at dragging myself out of my hotel room when I’m in London for work. And when you’ve got pals like Judith who have such great knowledge of the cheapest things to do in London, which lead to seeing views like this…

…you realise that you are so incredibly blessed.

There’s one last bit of news. I’ve actually left one of my jobs. It was a decision that fell into place, happened very quickly but was totally gut wrenching at the same time.

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I’m now full-time in the other job and very happy with that, but it doesn’t mean I’m not missing youth work hugely. I sat on Tuesday afternoon almost waiting for young people to wander into my office room as they usually do when I am in the youth work office on Tuesdays. Last week has been hard getting used to working from home all the time, and it’s going to take some readjusting and getting used to. However, I’m also really happy to have some long-term stability for the first time since I was at university really.

And so that’s you all caught up on the BrunetteKoala life.

The one where I try to write a blog again…

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It’s been a while since I blogged, and the main reason for that is that my laptop screen is bust. I have been pushing through but as time goes on the damage spreads across my screen and so writing, editing photos and so on is becoming increasingly challenging/impossible. So if you see any ridiculous spelling and grammar errors, it’s likely I’ve not spotted them as they’ve been covered by the balck lines of doom.

Why not get the screen fixed?

Well, today I took it to the computer repair shop, and to do that will cost me £400 as there are currently no refurbished parts in stock for my model. (If I’d bought my laptop a year earlier it would be a bargain of £290 to fix). Then there’s also the ridiculousness of Apple and their desire to make you spend as much as possible on new laptops and extra parts which take up so much more space on your desk (or a train table!).

So decisions, decisions….

It may be time to ditch laptops and go back to old school DESKTOP COMPUTER. As these seem to be the only ones with all the handy connections for USB cables and SD memory cards as part of the computer!

There has been much to write about lately. Life has been busy with work, work and more work! I love my jobs so I don’t mind all the work, but the downside is that it leaves me with little energy in the spare time away from work that I have. I’m about to be ‘welcomed into membership’ at the small baptist church I’ve been going to since last summer, and I’m trying desperately to keep volunteering with Girlguiding. Our Guide unit continues to grow, and what has been so lovely is some members of the Senior Section who have been trickling back since I closed the Ranger unit in December interested in coming back as adult volunteers or doing Chief Guide and Queens Guide award schemes.

I sense more change ahead. The challenge is to work out what is simply stuff I’d love to do and what is meant for me to do.

I know that I want to continue doing youth work, to build community and to write more. And maybe sing a bit more often too. I got such a wonderful opportunity to sing with my friend Craig last month at an open mic afternoon run monthly at a local café. We had no time to practise, but we’ve led worship together at two surf camps and numerous church services over the years. I didn’t realise until we were standing in the café and the words came out (hopefully in tune) the freedom in simply singing a song that means a lot to us and our friends. Selfishly, I miss singing because often it’s the time I feel unburdened, empowered and content.

It’s been 9 months now since life changed drastically for the better. I’m still navigating new routines and trying to have a good work-life balance. I’m trying to reconnect with friends who due to circumstances I was rarely able to see. Now I have the means, but finding the time and energy* is the new obstacle

*I don’t mean this to sound negative, it’s simply a reality that often when I’m not working, I’m literally peeling myself out of bed because I’m so exhausted. I know that the best way for me to stay healthy is to sleep off any sign off illness. Bearing in mind it’s been 10 years since I last worked full-time and when I did I was constantly ill because my immune system sucked so bad! The fact that I’ve only had 1 day off sick in the last 9 months is a flippin’ miracle (especially if you know how many nasty bugs have been going around flooring my colleagues, friends and family left, right and centre).

And so I can’t promise that this blog means that i’m going to be back here writing and sharing more regularly like before. But it is a sign that maybe I will. It’s especially lovely to see some friends coming back to the blogosphere. Like Grace (and Ailsa), Holly, Vicky and Brian. I definitely miss the conversations that used to happen on blogs.

Hopefully see you around here soon…and if not, I’m always on twitter and instagram!

The story of my Christmas tree…

So, I put a Christmas tree for the first time since 2013. Every year people have asked to see my tree covered in hats, or what happened to the ‘Elmo Slippers’ after the pregnancy centre closed down. (The elmo slippers became sort of office mascots, and we put them on the office tree every year). I decided that they should be added to my tree this year. They do such a good job of being co-tree angels. For those of you who aren’t aware of the history of my quirky hat covered tree, the story is on an old blog post underneath this photo…

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Originally posted on December 7th 2011…

The first year in my flat, I didn’t have a Christmas tree, as I wasn’t a big fan of Christmas – mainly I think because of my struggles with SAD each winter. However, in 2005 I was much stronger and decided to get a small tree to put up in the living room. I was a student at the time – in my Honours year – and the one I bought was a 3ft faux tree from Tesco for £2.97. In 2006, I discovered the Supergran campaign, and the wooly hats on my tree became a quirky tradition of mine…

Supergran 2006 Christmas tree

When I moved back to Edinburgh in 2007, that tree came with me on all 5 house moves and featured again in my flat in Leith. I guess it was that year that the Pooh bear dressed as Rudolph came to join the fun. I can’t remember who gave me him as a Christmas pressie!

Big Knit 2007 Christmas Tree

In 2008, my Mum refused to put up decorations as we were spending Christmas just the two of us, and she was heading to Oklahoma on Boxing Day so wouldn’t be here to take them down (she didn’t trust me to do it ‘properly’). So my tree got prominent place in her living room.

Big Knit 2008 Christmas Tree

In 2009, my tree was banished to the attic. Because of the sloping roofs it had to go in my brothers’ room…

Big Knit 2009 Christmas tree

In 2010, I’d moved the room around and basically decided that the tree would cheer me up. My photos got relegated to my brothers’ room and the tree went in their place. The Poohbears & Tigger went on my window sill that year. I only got 2 more hats because of the snow, but I sadly began to realise that I had so many hats they didn’t all fit on my wee tree anymore…

Big Knit 2010 Christmas tree

…so this year, I had to upgrade to a 4ft tree. Especially as I got 8 new hats. The new tree JUST fits, but my star won’t stay on top. Pooh bears and Rudolph are on my chest of drawers next to the tree.

The Big Knit 2011 new Christmas tree

I was sad to have my faithful little tree still in its box. Until Sarah mentioned she didn’t have a Christmas tree. So yesterday, when I took back a ton of fundraising event stuff back into the centre, I took in my tree and asked Sarah if she wanted to take care of it for me. It gave me such pleasure to see that my little tree is still bringing Christmassy joy in another new home…

photo taken by Sarah that I downloaded from her FB page!

Thanks Sarah for letting my little tree live on!! 🙂

The reality of the Christmas season…

It’s dark, the rain is splattering against my bedroom window, and I’m once again wrapped in blankets with an unhappy stomach. On my bed there are chord sheets of Christmas carols, some lush products, craft stuff for Guides, Paddy the iPad, my phone, while on the floor are three bags filled with shopping from today and throughout the past year that will be Christmas presents.

I haven’t written on here for a long while because I didn’t really know how to articulate everything.

In October, I had a breakdown. There were a lot of triggers in a short space of time and I think with stress of one of my jobs and not having friends around much it just escalated quickly and suddenly. I came off facebook and one day just got in my car and drove for hours. I didn’t really eat for several days.

Since then, I’ve been better, but still struggling with anxiety and panic attacks. I’ve not been able to be involved much with church partly because of the panic attacks, and partly because of work.

There have been a lot of things going on. I have two incredible jobs which I’ve dreamed of and had given up on hope of finding. I have been truly blessed this past summer, and I’ve now passed probation of one of them. I really, really hope that it will work out so I can stay after my contract is up because I love it so much there. The other job I’m still on probation, and it was a tough start for a lot of reasons. It’s still tough, but I hoping it’s going to be rewarding. And then there is volunteering. That’s been hard. I’m exhausted, and we are still short on volunteers which means I haven’t been able to take the steps back I wanted to.

So I’m doing lots of great stuff, and it’s all good. But it means from Monday-Friday I have no social life. Free evenings are rare. By the weekend, I’m exhausted. And everyone (including me) is busy. Most people have families they want to do stuff with at weekends. I don’t have that, so weekends have been incredibly lonely. I think I had this ridiculous dream after 3 years working pretty much every weekend of having friends who would want to go on walks, cinema trips and music gigs because that’s what it used to be like. Now I truly am that tragic spinster. I really need to get some cats.

The other thing that’s been going on is that my Dad has had some health issues. If you’ve been around my blog for a while, you’ll know that my Dad and I don’t have the easiest relationship. We have had months of trying to get him to a specialist here in the UK, tests and consultations and waiting. So much waiting.

The events of the last couple of months have really shown me how much I’m lacking in friends. The friends that have ‘been there’ – the ones that have checked in, who have text back when they see a missed call – they’ve all been people who are too far away to be able to do anything. However you know you have a good friend when despite being on a whole other continent they are texting you almost daily to check in.

And I get the “FOMO” thing. It is so hard at this time of year to see people happy and with friends and family. You know you’ve been replaced and forgotten when it’s there to see on social media. On the days when the anxiety and depression has really peaked, it’s just like twisting a knife in a wound to see. It makes it so abundantly clear that you are all alone, and if you weren’t here – life would go on perfectly fine without you, because it already is. It’s a really horrible thing when you feel so resentful of people that you love.

And do you know what, I know that in the past, people have contacted me saying how jealous they are of me when I’ve posted stuff on my blog and social media. It is really easy to portray this whitewashed version of our lives.

So though this post has been sitting in my drafts for a week, I am going to publish it for that reason. Because I want you to know, just in case you are feeling crappy too that you are not the only one. If you have a family that have mostly stopped speaking to each other and you only see at funerals. Solidarity with you – I’m in that place too. If you are living with mental health illness. Solidarity with you – I can empathise. If you are single and trying to navigate what life looks like when you are alone – I’d love some advice on how you deal with that.

Oh, and although I won’t be alone on Christmas Day, I will be on twitter as much as I can be to provide some company to those who are. I’ve been doing #JoinIn since Sarah Millican started it, and I can see how much it is needed more than ever this year.

BK’s YouTube Picks: Unrest

An article about this documentary about ME/CFS popped up on my twitter feed. I couldn’t be happier that this illness is beginning to get taken moe seriously and attention being drawn to it.

I was diagnosed with CFS in 2004.

I became ill with CFS some time between 2001-03.

It’s hard to pinpoint because in 2001, I wasn’t exactly looking after myself. The summer before I went to university I lost all my energy, had a really sore throat. I remember being on holiday visiting friends in the Netherlands and just wanting to sleep all the time. I went to university, got the ‘fresher’s flu’ and it just wouldn’t go away. After a month (and me collapsing twice one night trying to walk from my room to the toilets at the other end of the corridor) my friends dragged me to the doctor. Blood was taken. They discovered my glands were very swollen. They thought I had glandular fever – perhaps that I’d had it for several months.

By the next Spring, I seemed to be better…and was finally looking healthier than I had done in a long time.

Happy days.

Cue Spring 2003.

I’d had a cold, and again it just seemed to keep coming back. I was in the lead up to my final exams of second year and I was just tired all the time. Sometimes I woke up and couldn’t move my limbs. My joints hurt. I got blood tests for arthritis. My Mum panicked that I was developing Multiple Sclerosis. I would fall asleep in the library in the middle of the afternoon and have to be woken up by friends. I would be too tired and sometimes have to be walked home. I would be in tears with the pain in my joints and the exhaustion that no amount of sleep seemed to quench.

I got more blood tests. They tested me for pregnancy. (They never believe you if you say there’s no way you could be pregnant if you are a female university student).

All they could find was that I had ‘some sort of virus in my system’.

And they sent me on my merry way.

That summer was hell.

Some days I could have a normal day.

Other days I couldn’t get out of bed.

I remember my friend coming round and having to dry my hair for me – I couldn’t lift up my hairdryer. I remember crawling to the kitchen to put food in the oven and lying on the floor until it was ready. I couldn’t stand long enough to cook on a hob. I remember going to church and the 15 minute walk there exhausting me so much that I just lay on the floor at the back of the church. I couldn’t sit or stand.

I was really lucky.

I had friends that sat with me and didn’t expect me to be my usual chatty self. My friend kept me on his worship band team, and would let me sit if I needed to. He would even drive to get me so I wouldn’t use up this limited resource of energy walking. I had friends that took the time to tutor me when I hadn’t been able to absorb information in a lecture theatre. Friends that caught me when I passed out. Friends that drove me to the out of hours GP when I passed out in my car – again…I had a ‘virus’ (though once again, they thought I was pregnant and lying about it!). They kept me calm when I felt like I couldn’t breathe and was dizzy, or panicked because I couldn’t move my arms and legs. They send me notes. They gave me music to listen to.

I also had to put up with the people who thought I was faking it. Who labelled me as unreliable – like I chose what days I felt good or couldn’t move. One time I even got told off by a pastor for sitting down to sing. I didn’t often have energy in those moments to respond.

Eventually I got better. I don’t think CFS ever goes away fully. But I got better. I also got better at managing it. When I moved back to Edinburgh, it was difficult to explain to a whole bunch of people I didn’t know but as time went on they discovered it and supported me through it. My friends here are super lovely about warning me if they are ill so I can decide whether to ‘risk’ meeting with them as they know if I get ill…it can take me weeks to get better.

I’m lucky I never had to get a wheelchair. I was only confined to a bed for days at the time and I got respite from it. And I was able to keep working a few hours a week, and never had to take time off from uni. My grades suffered because I couldn’t go to every lecture and tutorial, but I still passed. And over a decade later, I’m rarely off work. I’m working full time for the first time in 10 years. I am discovering that my weekends usually require a lot of down time, but that’s ok.

I just hope more research goes into this. I hope better treatments are found. That there will be better support.

Hopefully this film will help with that.

The one where I cheered on Mo…

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Work is killing my blogging people. It truly is. You know, back in 2006 (the last time I had one of those full-time Monday to Friday jobs) I didn’t have a blog. I didn’t even have facebook. There’s a possibility I didn’t have an internet connection in my house come to think of it, because I don’t think I could afford it!

However, I thought I’d share a few pics for my friends who are athletic fans. I spent the weekend in Newcastle (upon Tyne) cheering on people running for charity at the Great North Run. It’s a major half-marathon event, with elite runners, wheelchair racers and then the everyday ordinary people like me who sign up. Except I would never sign up to run. I just signed up to go down and cheer on the crazy people who trained for months to be able to run 13.1 miles.

I also offered to take pictures of the charity runners for my colleague who is the Running Events Officer. While waiting for the charity runners to have their turn, I couldn’t not get a picture of our British treasure, 4 time Olympic medallist Mo Farah. He wasn’t in the lead as he came up the hill towards Heworth Metro station, but by the time he ran past me and my colleague who cheered loudly for him…he was gaining ground and moving to the lead.

By the time we made it to the charity village, we found out he had officially won for the 4th year in a row.

Well done Mo!

And well done all the Charity Runners!

I walked quite a lot myself over the weekend, carting around banners and cheer sticks and all the rest. Having now walked 35 miles and there still being quite a lot of September to come, I’ve upped my target from 27 miles to 100 miles for my Go the Distance challenge. 

The one where I shiver all month for childhood cancer…

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Today is the first day of September. It means I need to stop sitting on my bum all day and get walking for Bliss.

It also means it’s the first day of a month of wearing gold and yellow for Childhood Cancer Awareness Month.

I do this for all the kids I know who have battled childhood cancer, and quite frankly deserved better. I do this for all the families who have person shaped hole in them that cancer took away. I do this to raise awareness of the fact that hardly any funding goes into research for childhood cancers.

Last month, a fellow Guider lost her daughter. Keira had defied all odds, having lived 3 years battling DIPG (a type of cancer that has no known cure) when doctors had given her 6 months. She was only 8 years old.

A fellow blogger, Patrice, lost her sister days after her high school graduation. Anna was 18 years old.

The Myers family lost their youngest, Kylie days before she should have been celebrating her 13th birthday.

My friend and his wife lost their son, Oliver, when he was 6 months old.

Kira and Kate, are fighting the effects of treatment having both had 2 relapses as they go to school as much as they can.

We need more awareness. We need safer treatments. We need more funding for more research to make all that happen.

And so I will defy the miserable Scottish weather, and wear my summer clothes in Autumn to go yellow and gold once again. To raise awareness, and also to say to all those who have faced childhood cancer….I haven’t forgotten your battles and losses. I remember your children, your friends, your siblings. We will work and shout to find a cure.

The one where I’ve napped a lot…

It’s a bank holiday Monday, and I’ve spent it how koalas spend days best – mostly falling asleep! In my defence, I’d like to say that I went out to a farm to meet my friend, got ‘the messages’ (as we call a grocery shop here in Scotland) and a load of laundry before hand. Plus I had to work for a few hours yesterday.

But then why do I feel the need to justify it?

I’m learning that though I hate the term ‘self-care’ because it sounds narcisstic and selfish, it is hugely important. When I fail to take the time to rest and look after myself, I quickly get sick and let people down. Life ramped up a whole lot this summer, and as the weeks have gone on more and more has been added onto my plate. There are moments when it feels overwhelming. I’ve realised that I can do  it – if I rest well and eat well.

Working from home is wonderful. Mainly because on those days I don’t have the stress of a commute, and as long as I’ve been disciplined enough to fit in a trip to the supermarket to restock my fridge and cupboards, I can eat a decent meal at lunchtime. The two days a week in my other job I’m still figuring that eating pattern out – it’s slightly more challenging as youth work is an anti-social hour kind of job.

The main challenge has been exercise. It was a problem before, but I was in a job where I was lifting heavy boxes, jumping around at birthday parties and pretty much on my feet for the whole shift. Now I’m in two jobs where I’m sitting down a lot. I actually showed my friend my ‘fitbit’ stats as she couldn’t believe I could go through a day with only 2000 steps. Yep. When you are sitting at a desk all day. When you are driving to work from door to door. When you are sitting chatting to teens. And when your days are filled up with activity but none of it physical…you will find that 10,000 a day goal doesn’t happen.

So I decided to set myself a challenge of walking 27 miles during the month of September for a charity that has supported several friends when their babies spent time in neonatal units.

If you’d like to sponsor me so I feel horrendously guilty if I don’t make the time to go outside in the yucky Scottish coldness and know you’ll be helping 95,000 babies every year…you can donate to my page here. I’d be so grateful if you did. 🙂

And yes, I will also be wearing yellow and gold throughout September once again for Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. I do like to multitask!

Ok. I must go as even though it’s a work holiday, it’s not a Girlguiding holiday. So I need to wake up, make some dinner and get ready for a meeting tonight.

One more thing, my baby sister has started blogging. You can head to her blog over at Life of an Oil Girl if you want to check it out.