Not a New Year post...

I feel compelled to rebel against the annual tide of introspection and personal reinvention.

Actually, as ever, I have been reflecting for quite a few weeks and after much ignoring of the prompt of the blog itch I am finally sitting down to scratch it. Nice image for you there. And also, this post won't go live for a couple of weeks so really, the precise day it happens to be today is pretty irrelevant as the sentiments are weeks old and the post weeks early!

This time last year. 

I took three photos on 31st December 2019. The first one reminds me that it was a Tuesday. It was taken at 7.11am. It tells me I was distressed. It tells me I was trying hard to use positive coping strategies. I don't remember on that occasion whether I won or not, but I'm glad I was trying. It tells me I had friends who cared - my projection light was a Christmas present from someone with a very big heart. The other two photos tell me that I went outside later that morning and I was present enough in the moment to stop, appreciate it, and take two photos of a view that I grew so closely connected to as I befriended it daily through the changing seasons. It brought me peace and solace in times of turmoil.

This time last year Tuesdays were the worst day of the week, baked potatoes were described by estimating the age of the baby's head they equalled, the word chain had a meaning incomprehensible to 99% of the population and you might find a yoghurt just about anywhere. One day you're helping someone who's so scared they don't know how to live, the next they're under your desk with you helping you through your own distress at the wrongness of the world. And then you're all in hysterics because someone burst a sensory ball in group therapy. On Christmas Day I visited my family for a few hours and then returned to my new 24/7 job.

2020 was a funny old year. Funny for everyone, but I like to think it was especially funny for me. The first four and a half months of it I spent in a funny old place. A place I hated and loved. A place where I felt safe and terrified. A place where I learnt to be me and learnt how to live. I formed deep friendships with people I love dearly and found understanding and acceptance (largely). I faced my biggest fears and did things I thought impossible. There were days of horror and days of hope. Many were a pretty strong mixture of the two.

Along came our friend covid and my learning to re-enter the real world had to be put on hold as we locked our doors and were confined to the company of our fellow patients and staff. Weeks on end without so much as setting eyes on my husband. Yet more people to hug than anyone else in the country, so we remembered to be grateful where we could. 

In May I landed back in the world, disorientated, overwhelmed, sad and scared. Surrounded by fabulous Peggy husbands (OK, just the one), Peggy friends, Peggy family and Professional Peggies, I survived those first few months. I grew plants, I said goodbye to my Grandad, I celebrated a birthday and an anniversary. I found joy and balance in returning part-time to work, moving my body, being outside (the fields and river of our village took the place of the tended gardens in bring me peace) and reconnecting with the bits of my old life that I wanted back. I practised helping people to help me. I fought daily with the things my brain told me, losing a little, winning a little, sometimes more scared of recovery, sometimes more scared of not recovering. I scared myself again then determined to work harder.

And then, out walking on Sunday 15th November, six months to the day since my discharge, I began to wonder. The next morning my thoughts were confirmed. So now...

This year.

This year there is a little person, just four centimetres long, growing inside me. Not everything has changed - thoughts, emotions and urges require dealing with throughout every day, just like last year. And my friends, family and support team are still rallying round me, if in different proportions and at different distances.

But now I am living in my own house with my own Mr Peggy, going to my job that I love. I can get up at whatever time I want (or need!), I can go where I want to when I want to, I have skills and tools that I can use to help me navigate life in a world designed for people with brains different from mine. I still have to manage distress, memories, meltdowns and shutdowns, but I live my life in a generally more manageable way.

I have no need to reinvent myself because it's a new year. I fully intend on trying my best to continue what I have been doing. Living in a way that I can sustain (mask less, only take on a manageable amount, ask for help when I need it etc), using my support networks and getting back on the bandwagon more quickly and staying on it for longer every time. Trying to be kind to myself when I am not coping and make the most of it when I am.

I am thankful for.

In the funny old year there has been much darkness and difficulty and pain. But there has also been a tremendous amount that I am thankful for.

I have friends brought to their knees by this pandemic and friends who have had a wonderful year with much to be thankful for. I think especially of friends gained over the last year who fight so hard every day, some currently anticipating admission and the long slog ahead, some nearing discharge, and many at home, riding the waves and working for freedom and life. It's not a club you'd choose to sign up for, but I am immeasurably grateful to have met the people I have done over the last 14 months.

I am thankful that I am well enough to be at home and living my life, truly participating in it rather than enduring it as it flows away.

I am thankful that I am well enough to be growing a baby. We didn't know if or when this would be possible.

I am thankful for the way pregnancy makes me love Mr Peggy more every day, whom I can't wait to see being a Daddy. 

I am thankful for the way he looks after me when I'm not feeling well, knows my mind more and more every day and shows me in perfect ways how much he loves me.

I am thankful now to be able to accept and appreciate his help - a year ago I would have been very troubled by needing him to do things for me! 

I am thankful to be in a job that I love, with colleagues I love, and to have been able to work all the way through this pandemic - the routine is enormously helpful for me.

I am thankful for my family and friends near and far. You bring me so much joy and support and you are a big important part of my life.

I am thankful for the professional help I have received, inpatient and outpatient. I realise how rare it is to get all the help you need for as long as you need it. I don't think I know anyone else who has this. I truly believe it makes the difference between sustained healing and just about managing or ending up back in cycles of illness. Just observing how so many of my friends have been failed in different ways brings a lot of pain, and I want to make it clear that it is sadly uncommon to be able to get all the help you need from the NHS. I also know that I can be sad and angry about this AND grateful that I have had what I have needed. Previously I would have felt guilty and that I should not be getting what I do get, but now I know that this doesn't have to be how it works. I can be sad for others and thankful for myself.

I am thankful to live in a place where countryside walks are within five minutes from my house on foot, and where I drive through countryside wherever I am going.

I am thankful to be able to walk and drive and dance.

I am thankful to have a house we can afford (just about!), that we can heat, that has space for a baby.

I am thankful to have been given life and hope.