The problem is...

The problem is, when you're a single mum, to a child who's father moved away to London to pursue his own dreams, you're left to deal with all the bullshit, by yourself, with no break. Well maybe a couple of breaks but those breaks always have timers on, back by a precise time so I savour every little second up until that point. How is a human being supposed to deal with that pressure? Today I am feeling full of severe anxiety, I am experiencing the same sort of physical ache that occurs when I think of how it may be to be in prison forever.

I am very near to my breaking point, I need.some.space.
Harry is at his most intense at the moment, I can only put it down to the fact that he's not in nursery as much as I've broken up from uni and we have long stretches of time with not a lot to do, I'm lacking in imagination now too, and patience. This morning I woke up to him digging his fingers in my eyes, and then followed on by jumping on my head (by the way, clammy toddler feet REALLY stick to hair) We had an hour or so that was quite blissful, we got the paddling pool out and had breakfast in the garden but of course all of that ended as soon as my phone rang, I got spat at in the face and Harry decided to make the biggest mess he possibly could. I tried to tell him calmly why he shouldn't spit in my face... so he did it again. He's now in the spare room (where he goes when he's naughty) but instead of thinking about what he's done he's decided to find the block of polystyrene and make it into snow. GOOD.

Lets talk about money. Have you ever tried to get a job that fits into two weekdays? I think it's impossible. If you can't work weekends you're basically worthless and unconsidered. THANKS WORLD. Thanks Harrys dad, thanks Rosie for getting yourself knocked up before getting a career. Thanks bailiffs for making me fork out £600 when I'm desperately trying to save money, good one student finance for stinging me for £750 because of YOUR over payment 4 years ago, thanksthanksthanks.

If anyone wants to foster my child for a couple of weeks, hit me up. I'm up for it. Summer camp for three year olds??

The power of positivity

"When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive; to breath, to think, to enjoy, to love."- Marcus Aurelius.

Firstly, who the hell is Marcus Aurelius. And secondly, what kind of a world does he live in? He's telling me that I need to do the following all before 10am:

Meditate
Reflect in Gratitude
Set your daily intention
Pad your schedule
Hydrate
Stretch
Listen to Music
Smile
Clean up after yourself
Do your hardest task first

I literally do the exact opposite to all of these things. EXACT.

This is how my average morning looks:

And yes, that fire engine is making a noise.

What you see here is me in complete denial of the fact that sometime during the night I've unknowingly allowed my child to get into my bed and at 6.30 am he's opening my eye lid and singing "do you wanna build a snow man?"So what I do is I wearily open my laptop and somehow with one eye load iplayer and navigate my way to cbeebies live. This buys me at least an hour, god I thank you so much for cbeebies, it truly is a gift to all parents. I admire people like my grandmother, who recently told me that she doesn't go downstairs until she is washed and dressed, and she's always been the same, even when my dad was a child, are there any parents who still do that? I've discovered that a brioche roll also buys me time before I need to go downstairs and sort real breakfast, last nights squash will do too. 

p.s, this morning he informed me that he'd got wee on my bed and when I opened his nappy a little nugget of poo fell out, then he picked it up and rolled it. 

Oh and the pj's usually stay on until about half an hour before we need to leave the house. 

The reason for this blog.

Following a phone call from my concerned mother I am aware now that I haven't made it perfectly clear what my reasons are for writing this blog.
The purpose is supposed to be a breath of fresh air, this blog will over time- hopefully- assure other people in my position (which is a very normal and fortunate one) that everything they are feeling is totally normal, completely. I hope to assure those who perhaps like me have moments of insecurity and huge areas of self doubt that they are not unique in that feeling.

I for so long have felt like a sore thumb in a world of seemingly 'sorted' people, mother and baby groups were horrendous, especially when you're the one who rocks up in ripped jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt, if anyone thinks working in fashion is cliquey, think again. I know which I'd choose.

As part of my journey towards adjusting to life as an ex cancer patient, I've been working on the Young Persons Panel with the amazing Trekstock, working with Trekstock has made me realise how similar people are when faced with difficult situations, when I first met the young persons panel my first thoughts were "woah, who here has actually had cancer? they all look so well and sorted" but as the day went on it dawned on me, not only had they had cancer but some of them still do, this just proved to me that no matter how people look or seem on the outside we really have absolutely no idea what is going on for people in their private lives.

So really, what I hope is that this blog will just open the door to a world that us brits especially like to hide- and hide very well, a life that is completely not perfect and full of fuck ups but covered up with very expensive make up and a Facebook full of smiling photos.

Oh, and finally, I am NOT seeking sympathy or pity, I am very grateful for my fucked up life.

The thing about social media is

The thing about social media is that no body is ever honest. No one ever wants to show the world that actually, most of the time... nearly all of the time, life is shit. This then makes people (or maybe just me) feel really crap about their own lives and doubt themselves, I find myself questioning everything I do, how I parent my nearly three year old son; everyones children look so happy and healthy and CLEAN in their Facebook and Instagram photos, why does mine smell like spice and saliva? Why does he ALWAYS have dried bogeys on his face and sausage roll down his top? Shame on me for not consistently carrying baby wipes around with me and wiping his entire being constantly! It must be my fault for being selfish and deciding that I'd rather have a nice empty bag with space for my Chanel lipsticks, a shoulder without that ugly red indent from carrying too much and maybe even occasionally a bag which can ONLY carry my Chanel lipsticks.

Not just does social media tell me I'm a shit mum who is still desperately trying to cling on to her responsibility free past life, it also makes me think I'm really ugly and seriously consider paying £5000 for a nose job. I hate my nose, it's so triangular, why can't I have one of those cute ski slope shaped ones? why is my chin so spotty and undefined? oh god I really hate it when people tag me, is my face really that lopsided and Quasimodo like? don't even get me started in that tooth that sticks out.

What else does Facebook and Instagram make me doubt? Oh yes, my relationships. Not just my boyfriend but my friends and my family, we don't take happy selfies together, I don't declare my love for any of them publicly (unless it's a special occasion like a birthday or mothers day) My boyfriend and I never share cute puppy videos on each others walls, nor do we share with the world what we're having for dinner or the cute things that should be annoying but we love oh so much. Now maybe the online world really doesn't give a shit that I'm not doing those things, but other people forcing it down my neck really makes ME think that I'm lacking something in my life- happiness.

But the thing is, as I just told myself at the start of this post, no body ever posts the bad stuff. I can only imagine it is because of everyones need to be accepted and to appear desirable, because really... no body wants to spend time with a moaner.

but heres the truth. Being a single mum, studying for a degree, trying to set up a business, getting over the physical and emotional implications that having Cancer as a teenager leaves behind and trying to maintain a relationship when you have a self destructive depressed mind that constantly wants to fuck things up, things can be really, really... really hard. Especially when you've been trying to get your child to bed for over an hour and he's still hitting you around the head and throwing books at you... by the way in this situation, Google will not help you, it will only further your belief that you're a shit mum, so will Instagram searching the word "parenting" in the hope that other parents have also shared videos of themselves sitting against their bedroom door so that their screaming child can't get in, no, all you will get is more photos of parents telling the world how sickeningly in love they are with their perfect nice smelling clean children in their beautifully tidy white homes. URGH.

So here I am, writing a blog in the hope that it will connect me with more normally reasonably miserable parents/ex cancer patients/ students/ boyfriends and girlfriends desperately trying to search for 'real happiness', I also hope that this blog can reach out to people who like me feel completely not normal, and reassure them that actually, everyones pissed off.
Expect plenty of videos of my child having tantrums, photos of my chin/s, cat sick etc.

peace. xx