You and me were always with each other
Before we knew the other was ever there
You and me, we belong together
Just like a breath needs the air

I told you if you called I would come runnin’
Across the highs, the lows and the in-betweens
You and me we’ve got two minds that think as one
And our hearts march to the same beat

They say everything it happens for a reason
You can be flawed enough, but perfect for a person
Someone who will be there for you when you fall apart
Guiding your direction when you’re riding through the dark

Oh that’s you and me

You and me we’re searching for the same light
Desperate for a cure to this disease
Well some days are better than others
But I fear no thing as long as you’re with me

They say everything it happens for a reason
You can be flawed enough, but perfect for a person
Someone who will be there for you when you fall apart
Guiding your direction when you’re riding through the dark

And they say everything it happens for a reason
You can be flawed enough, but perfect for a person
Someone who will be there when you start to fall apart
Guiding your direction when you’re riding through the dark

You + Me


What if I just stay here in bed and didn’t get up? The world would stop turning so fast and I’d stop slipping. I could will it with all my might to slowly grind to a holt. With all the weight of my desire it would turn slowly back, I’d reverse the tide. I’d go through all that pain and terror to get back to the place under the duvet. I turn the covers over to feel the cold and feel alive. I wouldn’t get up eager to make adventures. But I’d stay where you lazed, just lying in bed, no plans, nothing. At least I wouldn’t be alone. Today I’m staying in bed seeking warm and cold. It feels like Sunday, but it’s Saturday. I wish it were Sunday in a different world. 

Black Bird

One for sorrow and two for lost joy,

Three a girl once loved by a boy.

I hear screams as you torture the kit,

I salute you despite your mocking wit.
Four tears for the years I won’t have,

Tick tock time turned bad.

Your green wings in a field of gold,

A cruel secret I’ll never be told.
A life wasted before I could wish,

Nine times over, bad luck’s kiss.

Ten for a bird, an adventurer, a rogue.

Be strong they say, you must not miss.

24 hours

Slept | make up | made daal | almost danced awkwardly at a gig | slept | coffee | brushed hair | driven to Canterbury | held my head high even though afraid | volunteered | forgot to phone people | had coffee with my fave | had tea and cake with an old friend | cried | laughed | been restrained in lush | eaten fish and chips | read | bathed in lush bath bomb bliss | done 40 minutes of yoga | collapsed on sofa to read some more 

Dear you | me

Dear you,

I will always believe in you. This whole experience has shown how deeply I will always love and care for you. That will never ever go and underneath it all you have the potential to be a very good human being. I know this because that’s who I gave all of me too, so deeply, and trusted with every fibre of my being. Being stripped of that power and humiliated has broken me beyond. I think about you every second and it is still all unbearable. But I can also see how there is more than this. I’ve died with every attempt to end it and have been painfully reborn into a crueler world.

I know how imperfect I am but I never gave up. Please never take someone’s power away from them ever again. However you feel a relationship is the trust and kindness between two people willing to work at it. I’m not trying to preach just give my understanding of the world. Hold your head high and go do good things.

You killed something good but there is no turning back of time. I will have the scars of this for a very long time and find trusting people very, very hard. That is the result of working at something imperfect and true love. It is the result of sacrificing yourself for someone else and taking every risk. I guess I am lucky to see this and experience it for the short while I did. I will foolishly always remember that boy who went on the greatest adventure with me.

Go make some good for us all. xxxxx

Dear Me,

I’ve cried more than I knew possible today for a life lost to break up and chronic illness. I’m still me, imperfect and impulsive, manic and sad. I’ve felt like someone else listening to all the conversations I’ve had. I am wise and naive all in one go.

Now is the time to acknowledge this grief and work with it. Someday’s being strong and others falling apart. I’ve been given the gift to slow down and enjoy this world at a different pace. I’ve been shown friends I never knew I had and started to find something in myself I can believe in.

I’m still me in my little house, baking and cuddling my dogs and cat. I’m still lazy and energetic in fits and starts. I still see beauty in everything and everyone. I still have my sixth sense and intuition that guides me though I’ve doubted it recently. I’ll still overshare and overthink and care too much what others think. Most of these won’t change but I will a little everyday.

Now I can dare to love myself and see that I can do everything I did for us for myself.

So much change and so much the same. Keep being the strong, out spoken, fierce and bossy, fearless and frightened girl you’ve always been. xxxx


Somedays the world is an ugly place. I know this morning was not helped by the anxiety of returning to England and the early start. Maybe I wore the wrong eyes for viewing it? It was a catalogue of bad sights, smells and tastes.

It started with my bag (too heavy) and a very fast bus ride through Barcelona’s packed streets (the driver was a the love child of Jesus and Otto Mann). Add a dash of concrete pounding and avoiding last night’s dried vomit slicks (the pigeons were enjoying it). Finally to the bus,  despite there being 3 staff, they watched and tutted as both me and my sister (both disabled) couldn’t get my bags in. My hands, which shake all the time now, couldn’t grasp the thin paper ticket (don’t cry).

In the airport I waited by the mobility help kiosk (noted there are no chairs). I watched a man vomiting into a bin for 10 minutes before the cheery Xavi picked me up in a wheelchair (I always book ahead now for mobility and I always ask the name of the person assisting me). When you get assistance at airport you end up in all sorts of corridors and pens waiting, seeing behind the scenes. Once over the embarrassment ( I still get weirded out by crutches and wheelchairs) you get taken in buggies and strange contraptions to get you on the plane. You forget all the normal airport stuff but find yourself saying ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ a lot.

I watched amused as the people fight to get ahead in the plane queue. Almost slinking up the walls to get closer to the front. Then our gate changed and everyone made a mad dash across the concourse. The shoal was so choreographed any dancer in a ensemble would be envious. I trailed behind with the cabin crew, no rush, after all we’re all getting on exactly the same plane and our seats are already allocated. The dance continues as people who pay extra can get to the front of the same queue and other frantically sort through bags after bring too many or ones too large. The panic continues on the plane like a game of musical chairs. Last one seated is off,  I guess that’ll be me then (jokes).

Now travelling does something to my head, it makes me time travel to the past or future. I’m terrible at it. I fret and tremble recalling past pains. I nauseate over details of conversations not yet had. I caught myself in the moment of full anxiety (I’m good at catching thoughts by now). I realised what I was doing and I can only describe it as running down a dark alley with doors that open to the past and the future. You witness times of joy and pain and live events that haven’t happened yet (and probably never will). The alley narrows and it gets harder and harder to turn back. As you are squeezed between the ever narrowing walls you realise you’re stuck. It’s so tight and dark you can only see and believe what your brain is showing you. I held back the tears and swallowed the anger. I realised my brain was back in the place of no hope.

By the time I was in my plane seat I’d died a dozen times in my head. To write it down seems ridiculous. As I was drawn back into the real world again I became aware of a boy behind me. He was possibly 8 and making some curious noises. A sort of cry mixed with excitement then outbursts of ‘the plane is going to go. Suddenly the couple behind the family announced the wanted to be moved. This was loud enough for most of the plane to hear. Most people politely stayed looking at their phones but I’m not very good at that. I swivelled round to see a family with children of different ages. This boy clearly had learning difficulties and was anxious at flying. It came out of him in little bursts like he didn’t know whether this was a terrifying place or the most thrilling ride. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he just said out loud the feelings that we probably all were thinking. I watched as the boy’s mother turned in natural defence of her child. ‘Are you asking to move because of my son?’ she asked half vicious in defence and half shocked beyond belief. ‘Yes’ the couple announced to the plane, ‘we are moving because of your son.’ Every part of me wanted to jump in fierce and wild to stop the pain.

I bit my tongue and caught the mum’s eye, I offered her my row of seats in front away from the couple. The cabin crew swept in and expertly moved the couple away to the back of the plane. The mother burst in to tears. The cabin crew tried to placate them both by offering sweets and a ‘trip to the flight deck’. These frantic gestures were lost so they listened whilst the family explained that the couple had been discriminatory and said appalling things about their son. I felt for the mother in that moment, she had tried desperately to shield her child from the horrible hatred. She was in a state of pure panic. How could anyone do this just because the child made a sound or spoke in a way that is ‘abnormal’ (I personally found him a joy)? Later in the journey I turned and caught the mother’s eye. I wanted to say how appalled I was but just mouthed ‘are you ok?’. She whispered back a thank you and smiled. I didn’t want to save her, but just let her know she wasn’t alone and others were with her.

When you enter the world slightly outside of the normal realm you see how difficult and unforgiving the world can be. My sister has talked at length on her blog about grieving (it’s worth a read and is here ). Its not always about the death of a person but sometimes the death of something else, like your expectations or the life you thought you had. I know I have been experiencing extreme grief as part of my relationship breakdown. With this has come a whole lot more. I’ve experienced the death of my life as I know it. I am unable to work, looking at a future on benefits and no longer able to do all the things I once could. Auto Immune has irreparably robbed my life and I sometimes grieve for what I once had.

So forgive me if I get sad from time to time. I’m trying more than you know to keep my shit together. In amongst these moments I cling on to the small acts of kindness we are all capable of performing. Smile at a stranger or ask someones name, it costs nothing but a little bravery. None of us know what path the other is treading, what came before and is to come in the future. Maybe the couple who had asked to move had been anxious flyers or something else had happened that day. Their actions weren’t the best way of behaving, but we all make mistakes right?

I will continue to fight tis anxiety daemon, its not a linear journey and I’ll bounce around. I’ll also continue to to fight the prejudice and invisible illness in the best way I can, with compassion and kindness. I’m back to start all over again.

I saw this today, which says a lot of my ramblings far more succinctly.

Love, and kindness to you all with the most open of hearts.