Category: Heartache

This is my first blog for a few weeks. Grieving for my ‘dad’ brought back unresolved grief for me, for my brother. Along with the anticipatory grief for my little dog that I have spoken of in my blogs, I have felt so down, that writing wasn’t happening. Association is a strong force and losing Dad took me back to January this year when my beloved brother Tony lost his fight against cancer. I thought I was okay with it now but no, I have been so down, so low and sad that it was as though they had both died together, yesterday. I know that is what grief can do, I have studied it in all it’s forms and work with it in my professional role, so I know and should have expected it. But I didn’t and I wasn’t ready. When Dad first died, I picked up the phone to speak with Tony, I still do this often. It hurts just as much and is always what happens, as though the realisation of my loss is new. Losing him all over again. It will stop but not until I have let it all go. Could be some time.

But here I am back once more and blogging today about something David and I didn’t think about, have much idea about but we should have. Ignorance is bliss they say, we understood and were ready for the side effects of having removal of his prostate gland, it was what he wanted and I agreed, get rid of the cancer and try to get back to a normal of some kind. I have blogged over the years about a new norm. A new way of loving. I have written about the changes that occur after such surgery, the ones we were warned about and how we are coping. In a blog a few months ago, I wrote about learning a new way of loving, a different but strong way of being together, feeling grateful that my wonderful husband is still alive, still here with us. That was enough. Yes we had missed the physical love we had had before but that wasn’t important. He has healed, has no continence issues and as for the rest, well things are improving. So why am I talking about this today? Because the picture above, was how I saw David yesterday. My once strong, capable man, who could turn his hand to anything, who was strong and could throw bales of hay over his shoulder like they were bags of feathers, working outside in the fields until the sun went down, is the man in the photo. This is who I saw yesterday , sad, tired and dejected after trying to move some trees that had  come down. You don’t know how sad that makes me. Breaks my heart. I can understand recent days, when he seems frustrated, sad, angry with something, even a bit depressed, when he realises that he can’t actually work as he used to. That maybe having a break is not a waste of time but taken out of necessity. I understand but that doesn’t make it any easier and I know it certainly doesn’t for him. David worked as a senior Civil Servant in charge of hundreds of men, white collar work most of the time unless he had to go to sea, or oversee projects. But meeting me took him into a world that was foreign to him, full of horses, ponies, children, fields, stables and mud. Gone were his suits, gone his designer shoes and in came the wellies, the waterproofs and the pitchforks! At the same time, we have moved a few times, David and I renovating each home  and am still doing that today. He took it all in his stride, never complained and told me he was in his element, ‘nothing like hard work to make me feel good’ he would say and having the added joy of getting to know the animals we have taken on, was the bonus for this man who never even even owned a Goldfish! Nothing was too much for my man. There was nothing he couldn’t do. Clever, intelligent and strong. My David. My rock.

I know he is still there, still the man I married but now he is not up to doing some of the things he always had. We have had to get people in to cut trees and clear the ponds. Someone to mow the great expanses of grass we have ‘here at the farm’. He has even given in, ‘to help a young man trying to start a business’, he said and we now have a window cleaner. Losing his Prostate gland has left his hormones depleted we knew that, but it meant he would or could be cancer free, a small price to pay we thought. But now, because he doesn’t feel as physically strong, he is upset and feels less of a man. We had discussed this feeling around the side effects of ED and incontinence and both agreed that it wouldn’t change him, change us. We hadn’t even thought about this other side effect, the loss of strength. I know it is normal, but how we didn’t consider it before is beyond me. We would have discussed it then but it didn’t cross our minds. Stupid? Maybe but it didn’t.It doesn’t matter to me, we will continue to get help where we need it but I can see what is is doing, has done to David. Every evening now, instead of being chatty and still full of energy, he is tired and falls asleep on the sofa more often than not. I only know he is frustrated because he is a bit short-tempered at times and they are always times where he has felt unable to do something, leaving him lacking, in his mind, someway.

I married a handsome strong amusing kind man 31 years ago. We married because we loved each other. Because of our track record, we were told it wouldn’t last. I love him today more than when we married. He says the same to me. Not only has he been my rock, but my best friend. Goodness knows he has put up with a lot since we got together. In recent years, the family stuff, he has been my safety, my sanity and my comfort. Throughout the years, he has put up with everything my family has thrown at me, all the problems others brought to our door, all without a word of complaint. He has encouraged me, believed in me when I wanted to retrain and went to Uni. Supported me when I wrote my autobiography and that was a difficult time for my family, as I closed myself off to revisit my past. His support was always there, willing me to continue on days I felt I couldn’t. He never allowed me to give up, even on the days I felt I would. As someone who doesn’t usually cry, when I did eventually let go, he held me for many hours, over and over again while I cried at hurt I have felt. Always there. Always strong. He has worked incredibly hard to provide us here, with everything we needed and almost everything we wanted ,for years and years. All in a quiet, kind and generous way. He is indeed a wonderful man. My strong man.

So today, sitting here writing this I am sad. Not for me but for David. I know how it feels to have to stop doing things you have always done. To have to accept you have limits, I found this out a few years ago when I was quite poorly. We shouldn’t be surprised but we are. He has been told he is cancer free, he has not been sent for, for further blood tests and that is wonderful. So cancer with a little ‘c’ has lost its fight with us. But this new legacy, one we were not expecting, didn’t think about, wasn’t ready for, has been a shock for us both .We should have seen it coming, expected it but we didn’t. So we are now having to try to adjust to it. I will never let David feel less than a man, less than the amazing man I married. That’s my job now. My role is to make him happy every day, make sure he knows I find him handsome, sexy and wonderful as I always have. We will both acknowledge his limits and concentrate, as I have to, on the things he can do and delegate those he can’t. Not easy but do-able.

One thing we have used throughout the PC journey is humour. I seem to have forgotten that these past weeks but will find it again and use it as and when I need. It is something David and I have always used. Something I taught my daughters to use, ‘if you can learn to laugh at yourself, it doesn’t hurt when others laugh at you’, the words of the late  Marti Caine.

So cancer, you may have changed us, our way of life but you haven’t beaten us. You will never beat us! If you have the audacity to return, we will be ready for you and fight, as hard as we have done through these past years. We may not be physically as capable, or strong, yes ‘we’ but we have our strong lasting love and the power to handle anything life throws at us, so do your worst! Me and my man, who is strong is so many ways, stronger than anything or anyone who tries to destroy us, you are wasting your time.

 

Thankyou for reading x

 

 

 I hope I am x

 

The whole world seems to be experiencing unusual frightening weather. Hurricanes stronger than usual. Storms worse than ever before. Rain that has sent horrendous mudslides and flooding. Stormy weather more destructive than usual. I feel for anyone involved in any of this and my heart goes out to anyone who has lost a loved one, wherever they are. For me, different kinds of storms are present, are far closer  to us, ‘here on the farm’, much more personal. Physically not as nasty but here all the same. I feel like I have been riding a storm for many years.

Before 2012 life was good, happy but May of that year, the storm clouds came thundering in and cast a black shadow over us bringing lasting torrential rain. Life changed that Spring and has never recovered, well not for any length of time. May 31st 2012,saw me say goodbye to my wonderful horse of 26 years, Evening Star. I was devastated and at an all time low. I shared this with friends on Social media. Sadly this brought about the beginning of a nightmare I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I have documented the nasty hoax by a young woman, who read this on my author page, a wicked damaging hoax that I suffered for 6 months, 24/7 , in earlier blogs. From that time on, I feel I have been under the storm clouds, seeing them in their darkness and feeling their rain,  over and over. The death of a best friend, the estrangement of my eldest daughter and her family, lies fueled by a wicked relative, the loss of my life’s work, family deaths, and then my beloved David having cancer,all leaving me broken, as storms leave storm damage, never the same after the events.

Maybe I was lower than I had realised, a few years after 2012, worn down, because the clouds continued to gather from then on and when David was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer, they gathered force and had a field day. Back then I could see those clouds, feel the rain but that has changed. But back then,they were real, almost tangible as anyone going through PC will know. I have written about the darkest gloom, that accompanies us on the journey some of us traveled, unwillingly, but having no choice. All the waiting, all the fear and all the sadness. I often look at my husband and everything I felt back then returns in waves of panic. The ‘what ifs’ are back and I am weighed down with the hugeness that has happened and can’t seem to stop it at times. I feel ashamed, David is okay, his PSA is undetectable and they haven’t sent for further tests believing he is ‘cured’. But because the past 6 years have been so horrendous, pain, loss, sadness, fear are all there, have been waiting in the wings and rush onto my stage at any opportunity, I expect the worst, fear the worst. I read of the sadness of wives and partners whose husbands have not been so lucky, some who have died, some who are dying and I feel so much for each and every one of them. I am then engulfed in guilt for seeming ungrateful, but I am not, even if it appears I am. ‘There but for the grace of God…..’

As I have said, back then, I could see the clouds but now I only feel the rain but I know they are there, even on calm days,I can feel the oppressive heaviness in my world, in my head and in my heart. These past weeks have found me sad, hurting and feeling full of regret. 2018 has stolen two of the most important men in my life. January my brother and friend, Tony and this past week, the man I was honoured to have been asked to call ‘Dad’. I miss them both so much and just wish Heaven had a phone-line so that I could call and talk to them. I wasn’t able to see either of them to say goodbye and that pains me beyond words.

What makes it worse, is that I know the storm of death is not over and that these next few weeks, months, will bring the loss of my much-loved dogs and possibly my cat. Other animal lovers will understand this, my dogs and cats are part of our family and very important parts. It hasn’t happened yet but everyday brings it nearer. Ellie Mae is 10, Cody is 13 and Luther is 17, so I should expect it shouldn’t I? But that doesn’t make it easier or better, believe me. Ellie is not sleeping but otherwise okay, she has the ‘c’ word and is on borrowed time. Cody is tired and has hearing and sight loss but is again, okay. They are not aware of what is to come but I am. I know, sadly, what is waiting in the wings, I pray that it will be peaceful and fear free for both of them, when the time comes and I will be with them both at the end. I and am spending as much time with them as I can. I have to be the strong one here. Hard, almost impossible but necessary, so I will.

We knew Tony was leaving us and I think my ringing him every day was a way of holding on, as though if I kept ringing, the inevitable wouldn’t happen. I spoke with him on the phone, every day, right up to the day before he died. I did the same with my sister Georgina, in the weeks before I lost her. During this time, our friend Mark Bradford was dying, he had told us and prepared us, and we all knew that the message from Sharon would come but when it did, it was still a painful revelation. We knew a couple of weeks ago that Dad, (I have explained how I came to call him Dad , in earlier blogs,) was going to lose his fight but even knowing it will happen, does not lessen the shock of the call that gave me the news.  Waiting, anticipating, dreading these calls, messages etc. can leave us in a very low place, still not ready to hear the news. I know it has taken its toll on me. You are never prepared, I wasn’t prepared for any of the calls that brought this final news, that each of them had died. The rain came then. It was as though I had been living under storm clouds for each of these loved ones illness’s. Waiting for the storm to come and finally bring refreshing rain. Well the storm broke but the rain is still anything but refreshing. Life is now grey, sometimes black. I seem to have been waiting and waiting , for bad news for years now. Anticipating it, anticipating death, grief, loss and sadness. So it goes on. Sadly, I do lots of that today.

I find myself picking Ellie up and hugging her, for it seems, hours, she is very patient with me, not as she usually is, wanting to get down and play. We call her a Shih tzu with attitude, only doing what she wants in her time, but not now. She allows me this privilege, to hug her, unaware that my hugging her is trying to stop it from happening. As if holding her in my arms, death will not be able to steal her away. I couldn’t do that with Tony or Dad, whatever makes me feel I can do it for her or Cody?  I tell myself, ‘for goodness sake Carol Ann, if you were a client, you would prepare them for the finality of what was coming’. I know that! Really I do but as I have said many times, physician heal thyself doesn’t work.

So here I am , in my study, listening to the rain and wind, if I look out of my windows I can see the clouds that are bringing the storms out there but still cannot see my inner clouds, not yet, don’t want to yet. Give me a little more time please, is in my prayers every night. I don’t do the ‘what ifs’ with my little dogs because it isn’t what if, but when that worries me. In the past the ‘what ifs’ have had a field day, optimism having little or no chance. Now it definitely has no chance.

Now I feel the rain behind my eyes and in the lump in my throat, all the time. I look at my sleeping dogs, who have given me 13 wonderful loyal loving years and am overwhelmed with love. I look at photos of Tony and ache to talk to him, to hug him and now, today I just want one more conversation with my ‘Dad’. The realisation that I can’t is too immense for words.

But

The rain can’t go on forever can it?

The clouds will be blown away by Autumn winds, won’t they?

What does that leave?? Sunshine I hope. My inner sun is so distant that I can’t even remember feeling it but I will, won’t I?

 I know I need to be patient, a different kind of waiting, this time for a happy or better. I need to wait and anticipate and look forward to sunshine…. but it is hard.

There is  a light on the horizon, I now have some of my family back in my life, not in the way it was but back a little way and that is better than before. I will try hard to concentrate on that and everything that is happening here ‘on the farm’. Try and see the light, the sun that is hopefully hiding behind the clouds and then, maybe, just maybe the clouds will go away.

Thank you for reading xx

 

During the past few weeks, I have been part of a conversation on Social Media about the safety of children. Talking about CSA and trafficking of children. It still alarms me that so many children have no one to go to, to talk to in this harsh world that we live in today. Families are not what they once were, people move away, sometimes leaving family on their own. We don’t always have the ‘maiden aunt’ to confide in. Grandparents who used to always be there for our children, are now, I am happy to say, busy in their own lives and somewhat apart from family as we know it or knew it. During this discussion we touched on the ‘whys’ of abused children not telling until adulthood, if then. We looked at how telling the wrong person, as I did, can stop kids talking to anyone about what was happening to them. It was identified that our children often have trust issues and that today’s parents maybe need educating in gaining and keeping that trust, from the first day of parenthood. How to do that is still in discussion but always encouraging our little ones to come to us, with the tiniest of problems or fears could be a start. Never brush away something that they tell you. Always listen, always believe, re assure them that you will stop whatever is scaring or hurting them, then investigate and act.

A while ago, something that was flagged up in the discussion, it was said in an interview by an MP that ‘teaching our children road safety and safety in the home, as part of child’s education, is imperative but teaching body safety isn’t, because, ‘not all children suffer abuse’. An ignorant statement in my opinion. No it isn’t all children who are abused but not all children get involved in accidents at home or on the roads but we teach them the way to stay safe just in case, in both with no questions asked. The same should apply in body safety.

So the discussion was about the importance of teaching children body safety as part of the school curriculum. All children are vulnerable, every child could be abused, bullied, or hurt. Every child and any child could be at risk, it doesn’t matter who they are, what family they come from. We know from the news, that anyone could be harmed in some way as a child.

This blog is not to alarm people but to ask adults to be aware, that sometimes people you trust with the most precious lives, your children’s, might not be who you think they are. That is not to say don’t trust anyone, but knowing exactly who your child is with at all times and more importantly, teaching them to tell you anything that happens that makes them afraid, uncomfortable or scared is of utmost importance. If you are told by a child that someone has either hurt them or scared them, act on that please.

So how do we prepare our children to be safe? Well, there are many books out there, books teaching our children Body Awareness, Body Safety. For example; ‘My Body is Private’ by Linda Walvoord Girard. ‘It’s My Body’ by Lory Freeman and the Jane Evans series of picture books. A book, that can help parents know how to teach children body safety is Teaching Children to Protect Themselves’ by Freda Briggs. I am in favour of schools, following strict guidelines and after training, teaching all children about the safety aspects of being vulnerable. Teaching them that is it okay to tell someone if they are unhappy about an adults actions, whoever that person is. Adults they see at school, at home anywhere, to tell a responsible person, someone they can trust. But the most important thing here is to make sure the child has that responsible trust-worthy person to tell this to. If they can’t talk about these horrors at home they need an outlet in school.

A few years ago, I worked on a paper with a member of the Welsh Government about the need for counselling in schools. It had been decided that some children sadly, did not have the home life where they felt able to confide in a parent. In this recent discussion we talked about everyone needing to have a person they can confide their deepest fears to. Children need this even more. As children we don’t always know what is right or wrong. If the abuser is a family member, a parent, a caregiver who seems okay to everyone else, how can the child tell? Sometimes the abuse can have always been there as it was for me, that child’s ‘norm’. Sometimes a child may confide in a parent only to be told, that if what they said was true, it was their fault. Or the child might be punished and then ignored as I was. How then can they talk about these awful incidents? Who can they go to if not their parent or care giver? We came to the conclusion that School Counselling was, essential. We, now in Wales, should have Counsellors in every school, however, due to lack of money, these sessions are limited and not all schools are able to afford this service. I am about to launch a campaign to bring Accredited counsellors, either out of retirement or not working, back into helping where there is no help. I for one will offer my services.

Although schools can play a part, in the teaching and keeping safe of our children, I also feel it would be good, to have somewhere, where new parents can learn to parent. A few years ago, I wrote a paper a long time ago, on ‘Children Bringing up Children’ that was widely acknowledged and commented on. I felt that the younger the parent, the less time they had had to have lived their own lives and learned about life issues. When a baby is born, we don’t get a manual! It is all hit and miss if we weren’t parented well ourselves. Mistakes will be made, all of us have made them. Young mums need all the support they can get and although those in our own families, might not take notice of us, being taught by professionals might help them. Some young parents make wonderful families if they have been parented well themselves. It isn’t that we, as the older generation are better, not at all, it is just that we have been here longer, learnt from our mistakes and can see when things go wrong.

So teaching our children body safety is essential. The trauma a child can suffer from abuse of any kind, stays with them. I have often been asked how I remember in detail every incident of my own CSA. It is simple. Trauma cements memories. Simple as that. Soldiers, airman and any person in the security services who has faced traumatic events, will have those imbedded in their minds. Some can deal with them and some can’t. The same for abuse victims. Some are able to move on and live normal lives, whatever normal is, some can’t. Why do people only come forward as adults? Children are fragile, some so traumatized from abuse that has always happened, that pushing the events far back in their minds, is the only way they can survive. They may have been scared, told that they won’t be believed or told it must have been their own fault. In my case I was told that I would be sent away to a place where these horrible things would happen all day and every day. After telling the woman who they called my ‘mother’, after her reaction, I told no one. As an adult, acknowledging the damage that has been done, or because they suffer a mental disorder such as PTSD, and seek help, they recover enough to tell their stories, as I did. I see this all the time in my work as Cognitive Behavioural Psychotherapist. Some clients, whilst telling me their history, move in their seat into a childlike position, becoming that traumatised little one again. Emotional heart wrenching work and I am privileged to be part of this recovery.

I am in the process of writing a new book and in that I will give some strategies on how to survive CSA and how, as adults, we can keep our children safe. If you have suffered abuse as a child, then please tell someone now. My dream is to have a world where abuse doesn’t happen but accept that it will never come true. So, we need to teach adults on how to earn the trust of their children and how to teach the children how to be safe. Everyone knows today how rife CSA was and is, I am sorry to say. No one knows what happens to us as children except us and our abusers. Let’s try and stamp out as much as we can, by teaching body safety, so that abuse doesn’t happen in the first place. Teach adults, that if we are told we listen, believe and act. Even if we get it wrong and the child was not harmed, what do we lose? We may look silly or stupid but we will have done the right thing. Silly and stupid is better than our children continuing to be harmed in any way. Teaching the child body safety is a deterrent and may just prevent some cases of children who otherwise would be victims of CSA. All of this is useful but only if the parents or caregivers are not the abusers or complicit in the abuse, as mine was. I am hoping that one day soon, parents and adults who know that children are being harmed and do nothing, are prosecuted. If our children don’t feel safe enough to talk to those who should be there for them, or the parents are the abusers, teaching body safety in schools as part of the normal curriculum is vital.

Thank you for reading x

 

Well here we are again, September, how fast this year is going. These past few years, as I have said in previous blogs, September has been painful, hard and sad. This year I had hoped it would be a good month, a ‘happy.’

Many years ago, September brought me the most physically painful but most wonderful of days. The happiest of my whole life to that point. I gave birth to my first daughter, Lisa Jayne on this day, the 9th. A very lengthy and difficult birth but something I am so grateful for. Although my marriage was not good at that time, having my precious baby girl, my blessing, made everything seem alright. I had often questioned my reason for ‘being’ but she made me realise why I was here. She made my life make sense.

Years later,September also brought me my very first grandson Harrison and I wasn’t ready for the huge love this tiny baby brought into my life, a love that is still here today. When I was a child, this was the time of year that we went back to school after a far too long holiday, going back was always a relief for me, for reasons some of you  understand. So this last month of Summer, this first month of Autumn, became a special month. David and I chose  to marry in September 31 years ago yesterday making it even more special and happy.

So this week has brought wonderful happy memories , better than the last few years but life has a way of balancing out. For every good there seems to be a bad. The year I met David, that September, saw the passing of the man who had brought me up, the man who I believed to be my father, until at the age of 17 when I discovered he wasn’t. This made so much sense to me, sense of the way he was in front of my mother. Although he wasn’t my birth father, he tried to let me know he cared. Showed he loved me, when there was no one of the family around. He was a good man. Then there is the Dad of my best-friend Carol, who along with his wife, many years ago, asked me to call them Mum and Dad as they considered me family. The love was mutual and I often, as a little girl, made up stories in my head pretending they were my parents. I loved, love them both. Sadly Mum died a few years ago and this week Dad is in hospital nearing the end of his life. I so want to be with him, with his family of which I am a part but can’t. I realise today more than ever, how distance sucks. How living so far away, having such huge commitments here, prevent such visits and stop me from seeing those I love. Having had no choice on moving here, does nothing to change the pain.

Distance has stolen such a lot from me. Along with my health, which  has often affected my ability to visit people and be there for those I love. When David was first diagnosed with Prostate Cancer, I was very ill. Dizziness, sickness, being unsteady and falling about were my constant companions. Doctors at first could find nothing, I had been under a great deal of stress and I thought with David having cancer, that was the reason. But no, eventually they discovered a blocked artery above my heart and this may have been the cause. It was said that being so stressed, having worry outside of the worry of cancer with a little ‘c’, just made me worse.I had been rushed to hospital twice ,all at a time I needed to be there for my husband. Now, this September, with sick animals, Ellie nearing the time we have to make that awful decision, the ponies needing us and both of us  being full up with colds, I try to console myself with the thought that no hospital would let us visit anyway. But it doesn’t stop me wanting to be with Dad.

Anticipating the death of someone you love, as some of you know too well, is horrible beyond words. Along with the day-to-day living, the happy memories of your loved one, is the constant thought of losing them. It can also drag you back, by association, to other deaths, other times of fearing the losing someone, another time previous where you have been grief-stricken. This past week particularly, I have felt sad, angry, pained and scared, all the emotions I went through during diagnosis, tests, surgery and recovery with my beloved husband David, during our journey with PC. I suppose, that although I say David ‘had’ cancer, every time I read of a death on the group, now thinking of Dad’s impending death, anticipating the grief that will follow, my tummy goes over and the ‘F’ word returns because of the ‘what ifs’. I now don’t think that will ever go.

So many deaths over the past few years, most of them to the ‘c’ word. A brother-in-law, a sister-in-law, my own sister Georgina, my best friend Mo and my Big bear, Tony. That was when I began to understand anticipatory grief for real, when we knew Tony had limited time left. Along with his children and grandchildren, I felt the awful impending pain that accompanies it. I dreaded every phone call, every meeting or email. When it came, the phone-call telling me he had died, it didn’t as I had hoped it would, bring relief. Tony had been ill and in pain for a while, so I expected the relief but no, it didn’t manifest itself. That’s the trouble with love, isn’t it. Although we ‘prepared’, when we knew his illness was not curable, when the inevitable happened it still came as a shock. Having beaten a life threatening illness 20 years previous to this, Tony would beat this wouldn’t he? But no, he didn’t and the shock was huge. Anticipating it had not lessened that.

Now, today, knowing that Dad is having end of life care, the helplessness, the worry, the pain is all back. I know he will leave us soon. We have been told that but are we prepared? Are we ever prepared for a loved one leaving us? Maybe if I had been able to see him I would be, I don’t know. Even if prepared for the pain and loss, I know when it comes, it will be huge. We all respond to loss in our own way. It is not always and only death that can bring grief, I know that but the death of people and our animals for us all, leaves us grieving. The price we pay for loving someone or loving a pet, shows at the end of their life. Grief is that price.

And then ,a few weeks ago, there was Mark. My friend whom I never met, who died from this horrid illness called PC. Distance once again got in the way of my ever meeting him. At his death we should have been prepared. He told us often enough, prepared us, in his blogs, his posts, his private messages within his faith, he told us many times that he was dying. Did we believe that? I don’t know. Did I expect it after being told? No I didn’t. Did I grieve? Yes and am still grieving. Was I ready? No I wasn’t. I suppose his faith helped him but I think, a little part of me, thought that if his God loved him, in the way Mark told me he did, told us all. If his God knew the good work he was doing, the friends he had met, the difference he was making to people’s lives, he might just spare him. Let him stay. Let him love us a bit longer. I can imagine Mark smiling at this point in my blog, saying it was in God’s plan and that he was okay with it. But plans change don’t they?However, I also know that as a child, a churchgoer, I was told ‘ours is not to reason why, we should not question God’s plans’. Should not ask Why. But I do. Sorry but I do.

One thing different this September, is that as I said last week, a legacy to me from Mark Bradford, is that I can pray again. Still not sure God is listening as I said all through my book, my life story as a child, when I prayed and prayed but nothing changed. But something that David’s recovery, things that have happened these past 2 weeks, I now have a little word I held dear throughout by younger life, before lost faith and that is Hope. I will hope that somehow my prayer for Dad is answered, even if not in the way I hope for but if his life is not spared, I am asking for an end that is peaceful, dignified and full of love. I know he knows we all love him so much but don’t want him to suffer.

So many sads but some happy’s. It is Lisa’s birthday today and for the first time in 6 years, I have been able to wish her a happy birthday and will do the same for my grandson. It doesn’t mean the past didn’t happen, it just means that life is too short, that lately I have known how fragile the thread of life is. I know how illness and time can steal from us and who knows what is to come. PC came out of the blue and wreaked havoc over our lives ‘here on the farm’ and threatened to steal my rock, my husband, away from me. Did I expect that! No and it came as a shock and left me reeling. We have no time. I also know that a mother’s love is unconditional and am out to prove that. Yesterday was David and my anniversary, 31 years and it meant more now than ever before. I value every minute I have with my man, the man who took me on with everything that came with me. He became a dad to my children and has remained true and loyal to us all. He promised to love me and care for me, as I did him, through sickness and in health and we certainly have done and will always do that. I now see him in a completely different light. He has always been honest, strong, funny and loving but the manner in which he fought PC, showed a different side, He was dignified, full of courage, pragmatic and of course his wonderful, necessary living in my family, sense of humour and fun shone through. I tell him every day and he does me, how much we love each other. I am indeed a lucky lady.

I am very aware of how some on the group, sadly have not been so lucky, so fortunate and my love goes out to them all. Those who have lost partners to PC and those who have split with them because of the changes this nasty disease can bring, I send huge hugs. I am never smug about our position, I just feel blessed and so lucky and hugely grateful that we have survived this journey none of wanted to make.Long may it last.

So September, I know you may deal us blow after blow this year. Dad, Ellie Mae, and possibly little Cody and who knows what else! I know you are going to test my reserves to the limit but with David at my side, my family almost back with me, give it your best shot ‘cos I am ready! Who knows, with the power of prayer and a little bit of hope, you may not be as bad as I am anticipating.

 

Thankyou for reading x

 

Todays blog is about a goodbye to a friend. I have written about this loss in a previous blog, on August 5th, entitled Love, Loss and Grief, however I wanted to write this now after watching Mark’s memorial service and feeling very humble but proud. Humble because he was such an inspiration and proud because I called him a friend. For those who didn’t know him, Mark Bradford was one of the first men who wrote to me ,after I began telling the story of my journey, our journey, David’s and mine, with Prostate Cancer. Not a journey we asked to take or that David deserved but travel it we did and in a way, still are. Mark was  a kind of ‘heavy rocker’ come ‘country singer’ who lived his life with God on his side. Mark was kind, informative and yes, funny. Like me, he saw the importance of using humour in most situations, where appropriate. Those of you who have read his blog ,or mine, will know that. It was in the early blog entries where I read, learned, that sadly, his prognosis was not good. He had terminal PC and my heart went out to him. Back at that time, we were in the early stages and didn’t know what was going to happen, how serious my husband’s illness was. I was struck immediately on how strong he was, David is pragmatic but Mark took this to another level. His faith seeing him through.

Reading each other’s blogs told us so much about the other. I read of his huge faith, a faith I had shared as a child but lost because of the things that happened to me and those I loved. Every one of his blogs were strong, sincere, warm and contained a little humour, something we both do,  as do some other bloggers Dan Cole being one. Life without humour, is not really life in reality. What Mark did, was sometimes use humour to deflect but also used it when referring to his own imminent death. He wasn’t scared, bitter or angry that he had such limited time. His belief in Heaven, took away every ounce of fear. His love of his God, took away any bitterness he may have had. As for anger, Mark believed in God’s will, so how could he be angry if this is what God had planned for him. That’s faith. That’s belief. Oh how I wish we all had this. How I wish I had this.

I never physically met Mark, as I have said before, but very soon after ‘meeting’ in a group on social media, we began private messaging each other, as I am sure many on here have done. He was very generous with his time. I will keep those messages forever. He would make comment on my blog and asked more about my life. Because I write as I feel, as life hits me, with everything that is happening in my life at that time, he asked me about my book. After telling him, he read my story and expressed his sadness and love, being very kind. That was Mark, along with all other virtues, he was kind. He showed compassion when I told him of David and my beloved brother’s fight with cancer, sending us all pendants that he and Sharon had made. As I have said before, Tony’s was placed on his chest when he left us and mine is under my pillow every night. David’s is at the side of his bed. A beautiful material reminder of Marks’ generosity and love. So although I never ‘met’ him, I really felt as though I have. I felt his love, his strength and faith in his pm’s to me. In his blogs to us all. Because of what we had shared, I felt he knew me. I read and re read every thing he said and feel as though his words are hugging me to give me comfort.

Yesterday I watched the video of Mark’s memorial service and was left breathless. If you haven’t seen it yet, please take a look. It was what real beauty is all about. I won’t say too much because we will all interpret it in our own way.

I want to say Thankyou Mark, for introducing us to Michael Cork, your Pastor and Mentor. His service, eulogy and Benediction were beautiful. He too used humour, telling stories of him and his friend. He told us of Mark’s great musical talent and how he was able to make a living out of this media. How he combined his love of music with telling others of his faith, of his God. Using the words of Bohemian Rhapsody, to emphasise how Mark looked at life.

Is this the real life, is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide no escape from reality
Open your eyes look up to the skies and see
I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy…..

That was Mark. He never asked for or expected sympathy for where he was, what was to happen to him. Never. Because he knew it was God’s will and so it was alright. Michael referred to Mark’s blog many times, how he would tell it as it was, as I do, and I believe that is why he understood my need to tell everything. He told of all the ups and the downs, the reality that is a journey with PC. He never shied away from his coming death. He saw it as part of his life, his next step on his final journey so to speak. He took us on ‘his final farewell tour’ Michael Cork’s words, so fitting. The eulogy delivered by Michael was beautiful, heartfelt and sincere. Qualities that Mark possessed in abundance.

Cancer is cruel. It is heartless and all-inclusive of those who suffer and those who care for them. Mark didn’t lose the fight, cancer with a little ‘c’ didn’t win. He was the winner. He is where he always knew he would be, in the arms of his God. I wish I had his faith. I hope I die like him. Believing in God, believing in Mark’s words. That will be his legacy to me I think and hope.

When Mark appeared in the service, in a  video he made for it, showing his generosity to his friends, wanting to say a personal goodbye, it took my breath away for a second. In this, he addressed us all I believe. It was so moving, so full of courage and bravery and still,right up to the end of his life, showed how he was thinking of others in his appeal to men everywhere, to get tested for this evil disease. I liked how he referred to the PSA as ‘just a number’. How he reassured his viewers and how he made the importance, at a time he was dying, that men have this test to save their lives. That was Mark. Always thinking of others.

The service brought much-needed tears, sorry Mark but I do feel sad. Sad for Sharon, the love of your life, who stood by your side at every part of the journey although her heart must have been breaking. The love between this wonderful couple shone throughout the time I knew him and all through the service, which she attended. It was evident in his writings and in everything he said or did. His happiness in his marriage and his faith was huge and infectious. Seeing him talking to us was mind-blowing and so full of love and courage. I felt, like so many I am sure, that he was talking directly to me. The last photos of Mark walking with his beautiful wife, on the beach, the peace, contentment and love was how I will envisage his passing.

I wish I had met him but feel that I did. A huge man, tiny in stature but huge in presence I am sure. Even when I looked at his early photos, his blonde curls and boyish grin, I saw a huge man, a strong man, a proud man.I loved reading his messages, his blogs his posts and will miss them always.

One thing I will take from the memorial service and Michael Cork, is to live, as Mark did, everyday to the full. To make it matter, in anything I do, as Mark did. The last photo of a smiling Mark at the end of the service, on the stage, is how I will remember him.

What a wonderful place Heaven must be and what a lucky place to have such a man as Mark there now. Heavens gain, our loss. Michael said, we will be forever changed, after losing Mark, how right is he. Losing a loved one does this, I know, after losing a beloved brother recently, I know it again today. Mark didn’t want us to grieve but grieve we will, we must. I for one miss him. I can’t be happy that death has taken him but I can be happy that he is at peace, out of pain, free from the dreaded cancer that stole him from us. I also have to believe that although his earthly struggle is over, he is now on a new beautiful forever journey, where who knows, maybe one day we will all join him.

I think of Sharon so much and can’t envisage her pain but I so admire her dignity and grace. She showed such love for her man and I hope, is proud of her part in his life and in his sad death. I feel for his Mum, as Michael said, this is not how it should be, grieving for cyour hild’s death,it’s the wrong was round.

As I said, the memorial service was beautiful, sad, happy, funny at times in remembering, and so moving. Full of love for a man who has made a difference in so many lives, even, as with me, in the lives of those he never actually met. Such a  fitting service for Mark. A beautiful memorial for a beautiful man.

Because of you Mr B. I have begun to pray again, to believe after many many lost years. You said God wouldn’t mind my absence , but would rejoice in my presence, coming back ‘into the fold’. Keep singing your songs Mark and I will keep playing them. I hope you have a red suit to wear in Heaven.

Thankyou for reading. x

 

I don’t know about you, but as a young woman, I had a picture in my mind of how life was going to be when I was older, when I reached this time  in my life. Of course I didn’t know what the future held but it certainly didn’t have the twists and turns my life has taken. Back then, it was a mix of excitement and fear, as anything new usually is. But now a days, I seem to be lacking the excitement. I look at the picture in my head of how life would be for me and those I love, at this time of my life and see no resemblance to the reality that is my today. Well I suppose that’s a little harsh, I do see a little but the picture has been smudged and worn in such a way that I can’t really see it anymore. Just the outline, using my imagination, I can visualize the original but it I  hard.

None of us knows, when painting  this picture, how outside influences will re shape it’s very essence. It is no longer a bright vision, no longer full of promise of tomorrows, because life has changed it, sometimes to form a completely different picture from the original. This isn’t how it was meant to be. The image in my head was one of peace, family, children, quiet calm and contentment. A few years ago, it was just that, so maybe I am being unfair. Back then, before 2013, I could see the future, see where we would be at this time of our lives. Healthy, happy, sharing everything we had with those we love. But life had other plans and here I am, saying; this is not how it’s supposed to be. But for a while, I believed in what my heart had put into my head, life was good and had been for a many years, so I suppose I just thought that would continue and today, the picture in my mind would reflect what I had today. But no, it doesn’t. It’s been contaminated by people, illness, outside influences that I was powerless to stop.

On marrying David, 31 years ago, on the 8th September, my life changed, a good change. My two daughters and I had been muddling along okay and I never envisaged marrying again. But then along came David and the rest is history as they say. What they don’t say is that there would be many changes, some planned and some not planned and not even wanted but change would happen. We lived in Fareham in Hampshire at this time and David was having to move to Bristol with the MOD. Not a move either of us, along with hundreds of other families, wanted to make. But we had no choice. I would have to leave my daughter and my grandsons, my brother and everyone I knew and loved. Broke my heart. I was scared but my place was with my husband. Lisa was married and settled, Marie wanted to come with us having just left university. We moved to Wales to enable us to get more land to have our horses with us. As it happened, apart from missing my daughter more than I can say, it was a good move. Lisa and her family visited and we went down to see them as often as we could, animals allowing. I retrained, after a long illness and became a professional Psychotherapist and still do this today. So the picture in my head was coming to fruition. Living in a beautiful country cottage that we renovated, was the icing on the cake. I thought we would remain there for the rest of our lives but circumstances dictated different. We then, in August, 2010, 8 years ago, moved to West Wales, and here we are today. At first it was beautiful and we were happy but even further away from family so we visited as much as we could. Lisa had become a foster mum and I was so proud of her. Every child she cared for became a member of our family, albeit from a distance but lovely when we visited to see our family grow. She had fought hard for her son, my grandson, all through his schooling as he had a few problems and never gave up trying to find the right help for him. On her own. She then adopted a little girl, a new granddaughter and those of you who know my story, know how badly that went wrong. How I found myself on the outside of their lives. That was the beginning of the tarnishing of the picture I had of our future. My dream. My mind’s eye had begun to change what it saw. I always believed, always hoped, that one day I would make this right and the picture of our future would be restored. Our family would be as one again and my life would include everyone I loved. A lovely normal way to grow old, for both me and David. He so deserves it.

In 2014, Once again I dared to dream. Marie was getting married and was expecting a baby. Again, our future was planned. I had wanted to share this news with my eldest daughter but couldn’t.We talked nothing but baby and weddings and then wallop, life socked us in the face. Marie lost the baby and I am not sure how, but decided that it was okay because she never really wanted children and so got on with her life. Me? I was devastated and still think about the child lost. She is, like David very pragmatic and saw no reason to dwell on what had happened and moved on with her life. Now married and happy, perhaps she was right. So then we again, planned our future, this time around our animals, Marie and Jason would take them on as Marie had always promised and a new way of life was beginning this year for all of us. We were downsizing, moving nearer to a little town and becoming involved with the community, something dear to my heart.

In 2016, planning this new life was still in its infancy and just as well as Life had other plans. David was diagnosed with Prostate cancer and all my readers who are part of the groups I am in, know how this is a game changer. I have written weekly about how PC affected our lives, how everything was on hold and the fear and terror that was our life for more than 2 years. That wasn’t in our plans! That was no part of the picture in my head! Not invited, not planned for and definitely not wanted! Thankfully, I hope and pray, he is out of the woods now. I say he had cancer, not that he has it but reading some posts this week has given me a worry I thought had gone for good. So once again, I am revisiting the ‘what ifs’! I am sure every person who has had cancer feels this way. David is sure it won’t return and most of the time so am I, but ‘what if?????? Where was that in my head, back in my younger years??What part of my picture was cancer?? I didn’t see it!

Earlier this year as you will know, my beloved brother, my big bear Tony, lost his own fight with cancer and that dealt me a huge blow. I am still grieving for the one person who had been there for me the whole of my life. My future included him in a big way, one way or another but cancer had other plans. Another blight on the picture in my head for my later years, I always thought he would always be there. I was wrong. This, along with my man having the ‘c’ word, the fear that traveled with me for most of my life, has returned in all its force and glory. I am trying hard to refuse to let it in!

So today, once again after making plans to move, to downsize, life hits us in the face and we are staying where we are. Not with a large family around us as my picture showed. Not in a manageable home, not in a village community but in a place we have wanted, later this year, to be a memory, not still a reality. A home, ‘here on the farm’ that we could say, ‘we used to live there’. But life had other plans and so here I am. Looking at the picture in my head and shaking it sadly.

Our expectations, as a youngish couple, for the last chapter in our lives, have to now be revisited. I have a new picture to paint. I want my daughter and grandchildren in my life and will not give up trying to put that right. I have a wonderful husband and life with him I am so grateful for. Downsizing was mostly for him as after the last few years, PC and two skin cancer operations have taken their toll. There is always such a lot to do around here, although he never complains I know he is finding it hard. We are both approaching the last era in life and need to be kind to ourselves and would if allowed. We have never just been a couple, we have always had children or a child with us and this was our time, our chance to just ‘be us’. David took me on, children, animals and all that a life before him had given me, no question. He wanted to be Dad to Lisa and Marie and granddad to my daughters children, but has been denied the chance, through no fault of his own. As we grow older, luckily very much in love with each other, I want to look forward but might just keep it a secret as to how and where. That way, ‘life’ will not be able to change the direction, steal our plans and dreams. Paint its own picture. We will just make them quietly and maybe secretly and creep over to what we really want and then tell the world, or those interested, that we have made changes. Maybe, just maybe that way, the picture in my head will return.

But one thing I surely must have learned over time, is that it is not wise to make plans. Our happy ever after has been tried and tested so much, that the image in my head is hard to focus on now. So if I want that to be my future, for however long I have left, I need to adjust the colours, the contrast or maybe change the picture completely! Make it more realistic, more credible more achievable. I am grateful for all I have, so much more than a lot of people but would love to share it with those I love. You are never too old to paint a new picture and even if someone changes it, when you are not looking, you can begin again, so I will. Watch this space!

Thankyou for reading x 

 

Oh how I wish I could go back to the days before I knew of your existence. Before you were able to touch my life in the way that you have. But even before I knew your name, you were out there, doing your nasty damage and spreading fear, pain, hurt and loss. If you were a person, would you feel proud of the devastation you have wreaked on people’s lives? No, because even pride is a feeling and you cancer with a little ‘c’, have no feelings.

One of the definitions according to ‘Collins’ is this.

‘an evil or destructive practice or phenomenon that is hard to contain or eradicate’

I will come back to this, as you know only too well the different forms you take, where you attack, destroy and kill. All of those nasty ways you physically harm the poor souls you seek out and steal from. Lung cancer,  breast cancer, pancreatic cancer, Prostate cancer etc. etc.  Done well haven’t you; no physical body part excluded, or safe from your onslaught or attack. But there are other forms, other destructive practices or phenomenon that share your name, they come in the from of  people, or entities that live amongst us, destroy our lives, tiny parts to begin with but spreading their evil to make sure the disease that is cancer, spreads far and wide and destroys in a different way than physically but destroys all the same.

I wasn’t aware at the time that you had struck, I don’t think back then, I even knew your name but when I was a child, around 11 years old, I had a friend who suddenly didn’t come to school. I called at her house many times, only to be sent away. But I am if anything, persistent and kept going back and asking if I could see her. one-day, taking a couple of friends with me, strength in  numbers I suppose, we persuaded her Mum to let us in to see Christine. After a little wait, we were shown into a dark room. We could just about see a figure sitting on the bed but it was too dark to see who it was. It was Christine, sounding very fragile and asking us not to turn on the light. I went to her and she held her hand up to stop me and I could make out a shadow of the girl I knew, thin and weak. I sat back down. We only stayed a few minutes because her Mum came and ushered us out. A few days later we were told in Assembly that Christine had died. You had taken her from us. A battle you had won. Well done you!

A few years later, when I was 18, my eldest sister was to be married and my Nan, was not too well. She didn’t get on with my mother so we could only see her when we visited her home. But despite not being well, she attended Georgina’s wedding as she has wanted. I went round on the following Saturday as we hadn’t seen her since the wedding, and found her very ill. The doctor came and told us she had cancer,yes, you won again. She had fought you for around 18 months, to see her first grandchild married. A few days later, Nan left us. A victory for you I suppose but she made you wait!

When I was a young woman, I was very close to my sister-in-law, Tony’s first wife Lin. They had a little boy. One day, she came into where I worked, a doctors practice and told me of a mole that had bled. Tony was in the Royal Marines and away at the time. After a biopsy they discovered she had been contaminated by you. A young mum and wife, a wonderful person whom I loved as  a sister and there you were. Attacking her. Why? No one wanted you there, why her??Well again, she gave you a fight. She had a second son but sadly lost her fight when he was 2 months old. Cruel and cowardly I called you then and call you still.

During the next few years, both of my sisters had breast cancer. My eldest had treatment and the other sister had a double mastectomy and implants. They fought to stay here, to beat you and at that time did. We all rejoiced but even after this, you were still a relative stranger to my own tiny world. I was outside of my family, being put there for reason I have told in earlier blogs, and although Lin and Nan’s deaths hurt me in  huge way, my sisters, we thought had beaten you.Then, years later, you returned to do your worst and Georgina lost her fight after you contaminated and destroyed her body. Feeling ashamed yet??

Back in 2012, I had a wonderful friend Mo. Funny, intelligent, kind and caring, would have done anything for anybody and there you were, stealthily creeping into her body and taking her strength and eventually her being, away from us. That’s what you do, so cowardly, creep in and no one knows you are there until it’s too late. Destroying, killing people secretly and don’t show your face most times, until its too late for anyone to do anything! Such a huge loss for her family and I know, for me. I lost my confidante, my friend, my common sense giver and speaker of how it is. Huge huge loss and great sadness for this wonderful lady. Thanks for that!

I have known of many who have lost loved ones because of you. A close friend,a lovely mum of 3 children who grew up with my girls, lost her beloved husband far too young. Another victim of your evil. Why do you do that? Why do you take good people when there are so many bad ones who wouldn’t be missed? Why? I could give you names of people who in their own way, spread their own kind of cancer, through other people’s lives. Destroy and contaminate people’s lives like you do. Take them please!

Many people had left us by your hand. Many great people, celebrities, musicians, acquaintances but I am today just tolling up those close to me whom I have lost.Our ‘relationship’ cancer, yours and mine. Not happy reading.

2015 saw me at the doc’s with a lump. I was worried but not too much so, as I have regular mammagrams becaus  of the family history but was sent to a consultant, to check the lumps. Then I was scared. Then I really thought you had come for me! Make it 3 sisters. Not if I could help it! I had biopsies after a few days of terror but found that I had inflamed milk ducts. So one in the eye for you mate!

In 2016 my beloved husband had a blood test that shattered our world. A routine test his doctor said and I suppose it is or should be. But the resulting years have been dominated by you. Pc, cancer with a little ‘c’. I refuse to give you a capital letter. Won’t do it!I have diarised the past years in ealrier blogs so won’t repeat myself but you almost own. Threatended just by the essence of a postive blood test, that David had cancer. All the horror of that day and those months are still with me but I believe we have beaten you this time. David HAD cancer but doesn’t have it now. I will keep saying this and you won’t beat us!

Many years ago, my beloved brother Tom, my big bear, was told he had 2 years to live. This was back around 22 years: he had a brain illness and that was his life expectancy. We were all devastated but it didn’t happen. He survived and we rejoiced. Then 2 plus years ago, you reared your ugly head. It was always on the cards and Tony knew that. As a heavy smoker, your aid to your destructive force, smoking, left him weak and with Lung cancer. February this year you added to your millions, one man, my wonderful, funny, loving brother, dad, husband, uncle and grand dad to many. Can you tell me why? Why him?

And now, in a different form, you have been threatening to take Ellie Mae. My precious little girl, my forever friend, my dog. Yes, she has cancer, one of the blights you inflicted. She is still having a good quality of life but we are living on borrowed time. This time it is different. Where as in all of those I have lost and everyone else, Ellie is different in that I can see you! I can see your horror, growing and changing the way she walks. I even bathe you and that’s so hard but I don’t do it for you I do it for Ellie, to make sure she is comfortable.She is in no pian but I won’t thank you for anything. She is still happy, eating, playing, sleeping but I know you will utlimately win. But not yet. Not for as long as she is happy, we will fight you all the way. She will leave us on her terms not yours.!

So there you are in all your glory. Destroying people’s bodies and lives but there is a nother kind of ‘you’. A cancer that grows at the hands or rather mouths of people. Cruel people who tell stories and lies about those they wish to hurt. And they succeed. I have a sister who is as evil as you, cancer. Her name is ‘Trisha’. She has destroyed any hope of my being close to my daughter Lisa ever again. She crept in when I wasn’t around, made up the most horrible lies and spread them to anyone listening. Those who didn’t even know me, believed her. Why wouldn’t they? People don’t tell such horrible things unless they true. Do they??? Those who did know me believed her because the stories,in my daughters’ words, were too unbelievable to not believe, if you understand. Like with you and your destructive disease, I had no idea of this happening, until it was too late. These stories have been spread to my grandsons, my family and my friends. Some since, I have back in my life, now they know it was all lies, but not my daughter. She was vulnerable at the time her aunt barged into her life and I was not around. The stories were so fantastical that it is hard to think they were made up. But they were. But as readers know, mud sticks and my relationship, that I wanted to make right, so dearly, is ruined by the cancer that was my sister.So cancer with a little ‘c’, you have a rival.

 

I wrote this on a down day but decided to post it as I it is how I feel and think.But I will bounce back, I always have and always will. You won’t destroy my intergrity, my spirit or my heart, cancer. Y u may have destroyed many I love and much I have cared for but you are not my whole story. Watch this space.!

Thankyou for reading x

 

 

 

 

I wasn’t going to blog today, it has been a hard week again, but decided I needed to. Blog I mean. I  need to write how this past week has affected me and I am sure, many others on this group. After last week’s posting, I learned of the death of a man I had grown to admire, envy, and yes, love. I never met him but felt I had known him forever. Mark Bradford, wrote on a post I placed in the group, 2 plus years ago and after that wrote regularly by PM or by commenting on my page. He seemed to understand me in a way many don’t. He never gave advice but had a way of letting me understand myself better than I did. He felt I was a voice for partners of PC sufferers and encouraged me to continue writing my journey ‘warts ‘n all’, to help other women and to enlighten men who don’t always understand how PC affects their wives and Partners. He always validated my words, especially when I doubted myself, which is often.Mark always had an encouraging way of saying something and is one of the main reasons I continue to blog. After commenting on my writing skills, he told me of his book, the one he was writing and I shared my success re my own books. He was very interested and this resulted in his reading my autobiography. His words after doing this, were so warm and kind that it seemed to bring us closer. He said he could understand me even more, after reading of the life I had, than he did before. Mark was a generous man, he sent me 3 cross pendants, that he said he had asked Sharon to make especially for us, mine having extra beads. Symbols of love he called them, one for David, one for me and one for my brother who sadly has since lost his fight. Tony, my brother, had his under his pillow and in his casket when he was laid to rest. David’s is at the side of his bed and mine is under my pillow every night. Treasures forever. We commented regularly on each other’s blogs. I found his, full of courage, enlightening and powerful. His faith shone through every word. He was, as I am in my blogs, honest and open and I will miss reading his words.We both used humour where appropriate because we both knew its value.

Mark’s faith made me envious. I had lost mine years ago but as a child, I had such strong belief and faith, one of the things that helped me through the horrors of my childhood. But after years of asking God to stop these things, to help me and nothing happened, I felt he hadn’t been listening. My faith diminished. Mark never criticised this, the fact that my faith had died. He said he understood. His courage and strength were endless and so admired by many, me especially. He never seemed afraid. Never said ‘it’s not fair’ as I did when he told me of his being terminally ill. I wrote a blog about this, the unfairness of his dying, a while ago and he shared it many times. As he did with the blog about PC being the ‘couple cancer’. But he never sounded angry or scared. I think that was his faith, helping him cope with the unimaginable. He believed in God. He believed in Jesus and as I did as a younger person, prayed to Jesus. His belief was so strong, his Faith so strong, he knew ‘it’ would be alright, although I never did. He talked of ‘going home’. To be ‘in the arms of Jesus’. He believed in Heaven as a place he would be welcomed, be loved and be free. So why would he be afraid? The definition of faith is ‘Complete trust or confidence in someone or something’. Mark believed in the something, the someone, the some place, that he knew was waiting for him. I used to have these beliefs but over the years, years of asking God to help me, to make things easier and right, nothing changed and my belief died.

Since knowing this wonderful man I felt proud to call my friend, I began to pray again. I admit to not being sure anyone is listening, but pray I do. Many years ago, I went for an interview with a newspaper,  as a journalist. There were 4 candidates at the time.Part of this interview was to write a story on our meaning of the word Faith. I thought back to how I had felt as a child. Believing in an entity that I couldn’t see, God, Jesus. Although I couldn’t see them, I  believed at first, they were there. I had been a member of our local church choir for many years, been to Sunday school, confirmed etc. I believed in a God, someone, or something that we couldn’t see. The story I wrote that day, went as follows. ‘A man called his son  into the house and shouted up to him that he was in the cellar. The boy called down to his father to ask what he wanted. The father needed some help and asked his son to jump into the dark cellar. The boy shouted that it was dark and he couldn’t see anything ,just a dark void, that he couldn’t see his father. The man replied ‘jump and I will catch you’. His son re iterated that he couldn’t see him. The father replied, ‘Jump son and I will catch you’. The boy, trusting his father jumped. He was caught. ‘ The moral was that even though he couldn’t see his father, he trusted what he had been told and jumped anyway. He had faith in his father and the fact that he would be okay. My meaning of Faith.

As last weeks blog told, I have many sick animals here currently, I also have health issues and am awaiting tests. The imminent loss of my little dogs preys on my mind. I think as I have said, you begin to grieve when you know someone is dying. Begin to grieve when people change and you grieve the person they were. As I have learned in my work, people grieve for the strangest of things and the grief is real. Animal bereavement for me is a huge thing and I know I will have to grieve for many of mine this coming year. Having a little of my faith restored, will, I hope, help me here. Mark’s faith and his happiness always seemed amazing to me. Although he knew the outcome of his PC was not good, he was always smiling. Always able to see the funny side of most things. That is something I find quite wonderful, how those , like Mark, who have this strength and faith are always happy. Always smiling. In his videos, concerts etc. he was smiling like nothing was wrong. In his blog, so upbeat although his illness was progressing. A wonderful  man indeed. It must have been his huge undying faith that made this possible. Having said all of that, that sometimes we grieve before someone has left us, because we know what to expect,I hadn’t begun to grieve for Mark, knowing he would leave us soon, even knowing his death was imminent. I think part of me always thought, something would happen and he would live. I never really believed the post would come from Sharon. Never really believed Mark would die. Silly I know, because he had made no secret of that fact but still I didn’t believe.He said once, that some of his friends wouldn’t like his blogs , especially when they talked of his dying, or his death. No, you were right Mark, we didn’t but we did respect everything you said about this. Although our friendship was only virtual, our mutual love and respect, as two human beings on the same journey but from different perspectives, was very real. Mark had that way about him, I am sure others, many others, felt, like me, that they knew him well. So along with everyone who loved him, I will grieve his passing and pray for his way forward, whatever that might be. He has now I hope, gone to be welcomed into the arms of Jesus as he often said he would.

 For all of you who grieve the passing of Mark, I send a warm hug. His legacy is one I am very proud to own.

Grief is a strange emotion. When I began my current career path, I realised how we all grieve at times in our lives, for many things as well as people we love, or knew. The grief for a lost loved one, mum, dad, sister, brother or child. I have known this, the loss of a child.The worst grief. When a client comes to me for Berevement therapy, one of the first things they ask is, how long will it take. I always say, grief will take as long as it takes. I have lost friends and family in these past PC accompanied years. The heaviest was losing my big bear, my brother Tony. I know Grief very well, goes with my age group I suppose. I still miss Tony, go to ring him, have often actually pressed his number on my phone and it hit me. Like losing him all over again. And it will go on, I am sure.

The loss of my best friend, at least, best in womanhood, in 2012 hit me like nothing had before. She always said the right thing, put me right many times and made me understand things in a different way. A good friend. Losing my first horse Evening Star after 23 years , still hurts and I still want to cry, but I don’t. I have grieved the loss of too many animals to write about here and each one, the grief is different. But grieve I must.

Grief , I believe, never actually leaves us. We don’t move on we just form our lives around it. Willie Nelson has recently brought out a song and the words say : ‘Losing someone you love is not something you get over, it’s just something you get through’. So true and the ‘getting through ‘ can take a long time.

We grieve the passing of most things, but if we are able, we pick out the memories and comfort our grief-stricken hearts with those.

There is a worse grief in my mind, worse than grieivng someone who has died.The grieving of someone who is still alive. Losing someone out of your life for whatever reasons, if they were important to you, if you loved them, then losing them is a whole new different kind of grief. One, to my mind, that can’t be healed by anything, even time. That grief can last a lifetime. I know . Losing my daughter, my first-born Lisa, out of my life,has taken its toll on me. Recently,I had hoped we were on our way to getting things, if not back on track, back to her and me at least talking to each other. A misunderstanding of an email, got in the way and now I can’t see a way forward, but pray every night that I will find it. Mums and children should never be estranged.

So remembering everything I have written, everyone I grieve, those who have passed and those still living, I need to take the first step forward, even though I can’t see the whole staircase, as the picture shows, and let my grief travel its own journey, until I feel healed. If I have to accept the losses that can’t be healed by grieving, maybe I can pray for some peace of mind. That’s not a lot to ask, is it?

I have everything written to me, by my friend Mark, my strong minister of his faith and will treasure those along with my pendant. I will grieve his going but with a happiness and hope that his belief of Heaven has been fulfilled. He gave me so much more as I am beginning to see, the biggest being a rekindling of my own Faith, all be it very small at present. Maybe over time, it will grow.

Nite nite Mark and Thank you x.

Thankyou for reading xx

 

 

I can’t but wish someone would say that to me and it be true.

Todays blog was going to be positive, uplifting and even humorous but sadly, life had other ideas. When I began blogging almost 3 years ago, I promised to be open, honest and always tell it as it is. My life ‘here on the farm’ My life, my truth, my blog. That is how I have written, throughout the family stuff, the horrible journey with PC and everything life threw at me. But lately, I really thought it had run out of ammunition. I thought things were at last, settling down. How wrong was I!

After the trials of the past years, diarised on this page, I began to relax, to look forward and be more optimistic that life would return to my happy, my settled, my calm. I had managed to re-engage with family, I was back running my clinic and the most important positive, David is cancer free. Almost a ‘happy’ that I talk about in my books. I have tried never to become complacent, as I am sure, someone or something sees this and thinks it a good idea, to send me something that shows me I was being smug. Taking things for granted. So I try not to do that. But I have also tried so hard not to let ‘worry’ enter my world again. Easier said than done. So there I was, jogging along,  trying to be positive, in a world full of negatives and wallop!  Along comes my lifetime companion, the ‘f’ word. Fear!

We have had a huge amount of worry this week with the animals and as if that was not enough, my beloved husband reminded me, that we are coming up to his next PSA test. That should have been just that, just a reminder for me to arrange this when the time comes but no, it wasn’t. It was enough to send my mind reeling, my worry button that was already switched on, heating to over load. The very link with anything to do with the past 2 years shakes my world. But this week, although we have decided to say David is cancer free, because that is what the consultant tells us and is the only way of coping, I have read on the groups, of people saying you are never cancer free. That once a man has had PC he will always bear the risk of it coming back. I always believed that if the margins are good and clear and the prostate gone then PC has also gone. But it was argued, not by me, that this isn’t the case. Once you have had PC you will always be at risk of further cancers directly linked to this horrid disease. I am trying hard here, not to believe that.  I had to stop myself from shouting at the screen ‘You are wrong! That’s not right!’ Yes of course another illness, another cancer might rear its ugly head but I can’t live like that. David doesn’t live like that. His famous ‘we are where we are’, in difficult times, can be and is, used in this context. We are cancer free, undetectable and must always be grateful for that. So I will continue to say David had PC. Not that he has it, wrongly or rightly, it works for me. Cancer Gone. Cancer Free. Cancer over or I might go under!

One of the legacies of these past years is my fear of losing him, David I mean. That fear, since PC never leaves me. We have a few acres, here, and often he will be out in the fields, into our little wooded area, out in the gardens, ponds etc. and I can’t see him. Years ago, before PC it would just be a matter of my telling myself that he is busy and I would ring our ‘summoning’ bell and he would, eventually appear. This past week, he couldn’t be found, I couldn’t see him anywhere and he didn’t answer the bell. Mind went into overdrive  and I had him collapsed, out in the fields, unconscious or worse! This week, the fear of losing him has been far worse that of late.

Why has it become worse? Death has become  something that is forever in my mind. I suppose because of the reality of facing almost imminent loss of our two little dogs, our babies, our family. Ellie Mae, as I have said before, has mammary cancer and we know the time will come, all too soon, for us to make a decision about her. She is still happy, playing, eating and her quality of life is still good, so some respite but we know what is coming. Our little 13-year-old Cody is now deaf, almost blind and slowing down so we can see the same thing ahead for him and it breaks my heart. We have 9 horses and ponies living here now and it seems that although we have had more in the past, currently we have hit a huge period of sickness, accidents or the like. It is not usual to have one down with something, as some are rescues and have poor pasts and we have the legacies of that, but this past week and a bit, it has been relentless. I always said Marie should marry a vet, now I think maybe I was right!

The end of last week we had one of Marie’s cobs, Cheyenne, down with colic, she was really poorly and as always, it happened at night and that seemed to make it worse. She was of course, brought into the barn along with her two pals. The vet came twice giving her Buscapan for the pain and she recovered. We then had Oliver, my pony, going down with percussive Laminitis, something we feared, as he has poor feet and is susceptible to Laminitis from grass but this was the hard ground. They were all suffering slightly sore feet because of the hardness and dryness of the paddocks. We began bringing them in at night, putting them in their stables on rubber matting to give them some respite. Oliver, had by this time, had boots bought for him that helped a bit. Over last weekend, another of Marie’s horses, Darcy an Appaloosa went down with severe colic and we wondered if it was the hay. We began soaking the hay and gave this to all of them. However, the vet administered Buscapan again but unfortunately it went into her muscle and she became very poorly. Collapsed on the stable floor. The vet returned and gave her something for the pain and a muscle relaxant, saying she thought the needle had caused an abscess. So we are now, after a few night with 2 hourly visits to check her, waiting for the abscess to burst or breakdown. You would think that was it wouldn’t you? You would be wrong. Our little coloured mini, my little boy Casey, was kicked, not sure why and thrown to the floor. Nothing like this has ever happened in our keeping before but it happened. He cuddled into me in his stable, almost asking for me to help him, pawing at the floor and I was helpless to do anything but comfort him. A few minutes later, he became very poorly and once again the vet was called. (See why I think Marie should have married a vet?) She gave Casey an injection , painkiller and after a while he seemed improved. This morning found us with the other little mini, George, unable to stand and so the saga continues. I love these equines very much and it is so upsetting to see them unwell and especially in pain. I just hope that is it now. No more Thankyou, whoever you are for ‘testing’ me and us many, many times. I think we have passed now! On top of this, is the worry of no new hay this year.Having them all in and having no grass in the paddocks,  has left us using the Winter hay and not sure if we are able to get anymore as it isn’t growing in our area. The hunt has begun to find some before the end of the Summer.

Whilst all of the above was happening, or at least yesterday with Casey and George,  we were hit with the most torrential rain and thunder and lightning. I admit we needed it, or rather still need it but we didn’t want two months worth all in one 12 hour period! We had huge hailstones, lightening and terrific thunder that took out our power, just to add to everything else. The drive is once again, under water because of the ferocity of the rain and the hardness of the ground, it was unable to sink in. All of the ponies and horses are in the barn, safe but what the next few weeks holds for us and them, I hate to think that far ahead.

So that is the animal issue, the PC issue and the fear that has brought me and now, there is my own issue. I am very low today, sad because of the situation between me and my eldest daughter, worried for her and about her and my grandchildren. Worried about our future because of my own health issues that I am waiting to have diagnosed and always worried about what the future holds. I am trying not to think about PSA, PC and all the nasties this brings to light. Can’t go there again today.I know worry helps nothing and no one but that’s just how it is today.

I have said before, that my dad once told me, when I had lost a baby, that God only gives you as much as you can handle, well I think he has me confused with someone else! I am at the end of my tether today. Dad also said, that God tests you and at the time of losing my son, many years ago,a baby not planned,that I had been given the choice of terminating the pregnancy but wouldn’t and chose to continue. Dad said , when I asked him why my baby had been born sleeping,why  had it happened, he replied that it was God testing me and that I had passed, as I had chosen the hard path and not the easier one. Easy for whom was not clarified. Well, I think I have passed every test now Thankyou. These past few years have tested everything I have and I am still here. Today struggling. But still here! So no more Thankyou.

I don’t believe you are given only as much as you can handle. I work with clients who have so much more to deal with than I do and wonder how they cope. I don’t want any more time wasted on worry, I haven’t got the time to waste. I want to live, not exist. I want happy not sad. I want to give joy, to those willing for me to do so. Help to those who come to me. Love to everyone. Yes, my ‘want’ list is quite long. Something I discourage children to say, ‘I want’ and here I am saying it myself. 

So, beginning a sentence with the word that seems to be the opening word for every conversation these days. So. I will continue to say David had cancer and is cancer free, even though every PSA test brings me to my knees.

I will continue to look after my rescued animals and all of my other animals in the best way I know how. I will give them the best of me and somehow manage the illnesses they suffer. I will keep running my clinic, helping others through their life issues and seeing them end therapy different people. I hope. I will always do my best for my family and hope that is enough. Although,enough doesn’t stand a chance where Lisa and my grandchildren are concerned. I have to find a way better than ‘enough’. Someway to bring her back into my life at some level. I think that is really what she would like, deep down but can’t see a way forward. I have to find that way, somehow. I am acutely aware however, that time is something that is not on my side and mustn’t lose sight of that.

So yes, I am afraid, the ‘F’ word is very evident, I can’t sleep, I am not eating as well as I should be and worry and fear are my constant companions. But that is life I suppose and I have to grin and bear it. ‘Feel the fear and do it anyway’. Thanks Susan Jeffers, I have never forgotten your words.

Thank you for reading x

 

 

In the past few weeks I have been doing some inner child work with clients and have acknowledged how much we owe to the child within us and how much they can influence our life today. I realized that even though many years have passed and we become different people, deep down inside we are always the same. We hold the same values, the same needs, the same emotions and the same qualities. They may display differently as we grow through the stages of life but ultimately, they are the same. If our early life has seen trauma, fear or sadness, our adult life, with the ‘help’ of association, can re -experience these emotions. In times of worry, times of anger or fear, it is the inner child who is hurting, who is feeling the way we feel and sometimes, it is she/he who shows themselves to the world. How often have we heard the comment made about an adult who may be scared, angry or upset, ‘he’s behaving like a child’? Acting as the child would have acted had she been allowed or able. I have seen this in my own life, seen myself thrown back into the past so many times, especially these past few years, without the desire to do so. Sometimes, when hurting, I use anger. As you know, I have said many times, ‘anger is just sad’s bodyguard’. During the painful times of being hurt by family: during my beloved husband having Prostate cancer, sometimes just when everything was seemingly hard, my inner child would surface and the adult in me wouldn’t stand a chance.

I have referred many times to my past and part of my coming to terms with it, was, as I do today, writing. Maybe it will make more sense to those who read but don’t really understand, where I am coming from. I wrote a blog in May, called ‘I Want to Be an Open Book…’telling you of the reasons for disclosing my identity but today wanted to embellish the reasons behind who I am. Facebook friends may not always understand my blog or why I have the emotions I have had these past years. Why should they? My life has been anything but straightforward, I am made up of three people and now I will explain myself.

The Writer.

The very first book I wrote, back in 1997, was a children’s book based on a fictional character I created, whilst on holiday with my daughters Lisa and Marie. THE ADVENTURES OF WOZWELL THE WOMAS. Published in my own name. A little book to teach children, in a funny lighthearted way, good old fashioned values. Family loved it especially my late brother Tony. On seeing it for the first time in W.H.Smiths, next to Enid Blyton and Roald Dahl, he was very excited and couldn’t contain himself. Lovely memory. That was and still is, as I have 10 more stories about Wozwell waiting publication, my only venture into fiction.

The books I have written are true stories. I wrote my autobiography, under a pseudonym for legal reasons but today can own my story. My childhood in I DID TELL I DID and my later teenage years into woman hood in NOBODY TOLD ME. I have never wanted to write fiction, apart from Wozwell, I don’t even know if I could. I have found real life to be dramatic enough. Readers choose to read my books or not, but writing them is a cathartic exercise as writers of true personal stories may know, or was and is in my case.

In my own experience, real life is harsher and sometimes more traumatic than any novel, because it is true. That mere fact makes the reader ‘feel’ for the main ‘character’ and empathise with them. Not, I hope, in my own writing, sympathise with the author. Sympathy is not what I hoped for and thankfully didn’t receive. The writer I have become, uses her memories, her experiences and the truth to tell others about her life or about other’s lives. Writing my stories, my life experiences has two positives. It can help others in some way, either by making them realise they are not alone, or by simply allowing them to believe they can get through their own horrors. The second way is to help me process my own demons. Sexual abuse, cruelty, loss of a baby to adoption and a child born sleeping, plus other traumas. All of these were told in the first two books because they happened to me. I haven’t dramatized anything, if anything I have left things out. My childhood was a web of lies and that has made me see honesty as the most important quality that I live by. I don’t lie and I feel hurt and insulted when I am lied to. So my first two books are me, warts’n all. NOBODY TOLD ME is a direct legacy of the abuse suffered in childhood, it is painful to read but ultimately, I hope, it is inspiring. Both of these books were written under my author name of Cassie Harte.

My next book. Currently being finished, will be a kind of ‘self -help’ book. A coffee table edition that can be used when victims or survivors need a little encouragement, a little bit of comfort. I will combine my own story in little snapshots, to show how I coped, how I used different tools to survive. Some good, some not so good. I will also use my experience and expertise in my field of Psychotherapy and Counselling. I will teach the tools and techniques I teach my clients, to enable them and empower them in their lives. It will be clear, concise, humorous where appropriate and like everything I say and write, honest in its content. Its working title is: ‘Come Walk with Me. (on a journey from victim to Survivor)’.

After that is finished, I will continue to write my book for partners and wives of sufferers of Prostate cancer. Its working title is ‘A Man’s cancer by a forgotten victim.’ Another coffee table book that will be based on my blog over the past 2 plus years, of the journey I have taken with David, my PC journey. Written from my perspective alone. I hope this will bring comfort to other women, suffering in their own way during this horrid time. So this is me as a writer.

The Woman.

After surviving the horrors of abuse, I have always tried to help others who have been harmed, and keep children safe. Sexual abuse is not the only abuse suffered by children. It maybe psychological, mental, emotional or physical abuse. I suffered most of these as a child. Abuse is abuse and damages the victim. In my work as a Psychotherapist I work hard to help clients come through their trauma and become survivors after being victims for most of their lives. I am always honest to them as people and I expect and receive honesty from them, to enable us to work together to a satisfactory ending. As I have said, honesty is paramount. I personally, have lost out big time to keep my integrity intact in the past, because of this. I can’t lie to people or for people and have always thought of this as a virtue but it sometimes comes at high cost to me. My childhood was full of fear and deceit, lies and nasty intrigue. I have worked hard to eradicate these things from the life of everyone I love and anyone who asks help of me. I try hard not to dwell on my own stuff, I gain pleasure from helping those who need it and try hard not to refuse this help to anyone. There was no one there for me as a child, so I want to be the ‘someone’ for anyone who comes to me. Like hundreds of others, thousands of users, I have social media accounts to share my thoughts, my fun times, my family and animals and always try to make people smile. Being honest on there has gained me hundreds of friends but also some very big enemies. Would I change my integrity? No. I will always believe, honesty is always the best policy.

The Little Girl.

Now this is where it all began. My early years were traumatic, painful, scary and full of horror. The Writer in me has tried hard to put this all to bed, deal with it, by telling her story. This is was the subject for my first book, I DID TELL I DID which is came out again in July 2016, having been re published as a 2^nd edition. It is an honest, true account of my early life. Writing it was very hard. Took me back to places and horrors that were scary and painful to think about. Revisiting these was worth it, after receiving hundreds of letter from readers, my story either helped or encouraged to come forward. It also helped me and I thought I had succeeded in letting it all go. But I haven’t, not really. I have moved away from the hurt terrified child, I have dealt with my beginning and my middle and am now working on my ‘end’. But it is never far away. The fear, the pain I mean. All the work I have done on my past, it can be triggered and throw me back to those dark horrific days. We deal with our past by either changing how we remember it to make it more comfortable, or we box it all up and hope no one rips the lids off the boxes. I have, over the years of training, where we had to have personal therapy, and writing my story, dealt with my past. But some things I have placed in boxes and put where I can’t see them or think of them. Out of reach of the ‘association’ I have talked about where something can trigger the memories or the feelings. I didn’t think this could happen anymore but it can as I have recently discovered. Time doesn’t matter, memories have no timescale when they rush back into your head, as though it were yesterday. Because it was a long time ago, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t scare you or doesn’t matter.  

Today I realised that my years as little Carol Ann, made me who I am today. All the nasties were building blocks to where I am now. Yes my writing enabled me to process that life. Yes the Woman worked hard at ‘moving on’ whatever that might mean. But the reality is this. No matter what has happened as a child, as a woman and as a writer, nothing will ultimately change the child inside. Little Carol.

Readers have kindly said I must have been strong to survive my childhood. They say I must be a very strong woman. Well perhaps they are right, I hope they are right. I am now going to draw on that strength and stop making excuses, to stop using my failing health, to not write and get on and write my third book!  NOBODY TOLD ME is doing well, so that’s good and the original edition of I DID TELL I DID is back on track in a 2^nd edition with a new cover, in spite of some who caused its demise. When it was first published, it was one of the first stories of CSA and went straight to Number One in the Sunday Times bestseller list. It is now selling in 4 countries. Helping others I hope.

I want to thank all of my readers, my Facebook and Twitter friends and supporters and my husband, daughter Marie and my son Jonathan who encouraged and supported me in getting the book back on the shelves. They have been there through the good the bad and the ugly that has entered my life yet again. Never faltering in their love and support. So thank you all. I would also like to thank my eldest daughter Lisa, in spite of how things are today, who, back in the dark days of my writing my autobiography, gave me her love and support, and who was so proud when it was published. How times have changed but I will not forget that time and will treasure the memories.

We should never be defined by our past but sometimes it catches up with us, barges back in when we least expect it or want it. We don’t ‘hang on to the past’ it hangs on to us and becomes evident at bad times in our lives. The memories that are traumatic will always be triggered at times of stress, fear or pain. This is our inner child crying out to be healed. We all owe it to ourselves to listen, comfort and be kind to her/him. To look after ourselves in any way we need. Remember that.

Little Carol is back with a vengeance at times of stress and has, in the past reacted and not responded, to whatever life threw at her. I hope from today to change that and be more aware of who I am, the woman, but also aware that the child I was, is always with me.

Thank you for reading xx