A little while ago I’d made a decision to keep this blog upbeat, possibly verging on ‘look people I’m keeping my sh*t together therefore I’m obviously not completely mental.’ I’m not sure what I feel I’ve got to prove, or who I need to prove it to, but I need to look normal, and I need to be coping or I have failed. Which obviously in and of itself would be bad, because failing isn’t coping.

So despite coping with some pretty stressful situations in the last couple of months, all you guys have been privy to is shared recipes, ideas for organisation and the odd upbeat happy life story. All of which is truth, and relevant to the story of my life, but honestly I’ve reached a point where I need to write both sides, because writing and sharing help. When the balance tips from ‘I need you to see me coping’ towards I’m hedging pretty close to not coping then appearances perhaps don’t matter so much?

So this is the life stuff. First our house. I’m not sure whether I’ve ever told you how much I love our house? Well I do, I love it and I love it’s location. As someone who doesn’t fit every situation it’s been wonderful to finally feel in the right place. Until of course my landlady decided to sell my house. So now it has a for sale sign outside, and we’re making plans to move. I’m trying really hard to be grown up and handle it all brilliantly. But if you’ll excuse me for a minute I’d like to stamp my feet a little, throw some toys out of the pram and cling tightly to my living room floor!

Then there was the health scare. A lump, an appointment within two weeks, a waiting room and lots of prayers. It’s all fine, and I feel incredibly lucky not to be one of the people who left that department crying. It took it’s toll, and I’m still left with the bloody ME diagnosis.

Then Christmas came, and all was well, some time to rest, recuperate. I thought I’d got my head round it all, and 2014 would see me moving on. Then January came, and it’s been such a cliche, grey skies, rain, blah. So I’m hoping this is just January. That the black inside my head, the weight inside, is just a product of January.

It’s annoyingly familiar. Life feels futile, happiness is hard to hang onto. So I do something, I take a bath with my gorgeous girl and it makes me feel warmth again, I edge away from the scary place in my mind.  Then a few hours pass and the grey clouds appear overhead again and I’m back in that place.

So perhaps this is coping? I’m not panicking, begging Doctors for solutions, raging round my house trying to outrun this. Instead I’m sitting with it, trying not to let it’s fear engulf me. Finding the pleasure in anything that I possibly can. Waiting for it to pass. I’m confident it will pass, which is also progress. I recognise my illness, my moods are going to do this to me from time to time, and I’m glad that I’m learning to deal with it better. So that’s that, but I do need to write, I realise that now.

So the blog, stories from our happy lives, recipes, ideas, product reviews and the odd rambling post about the state of my serotonin. Enjoy!