What it should be like

I have spent 5 years imagining what my life should be like.

Sometimes I have been almost able to see what I should be doing.

It might sound crazy but I can actually visualise my family going abroad on holiday,
spending the day in London seeing the sights and visiting museums, having afternoon
tea at the Connaught or the Berkeley. Doing all the things that a normal family might do.

Sadly, that isn’t my new normal. It’s not my reality.

My ‘new’ normal is very different and going for afternoon tea at the Connaught or the
Berkeley feels like it happened to someone else.

It’s funny that seven years ago I would have thought that being stuck in the house on my
 own without a car with two children sounded like absolute hell…

Back then, pre brain haemorrhage, when my car was being repaired I remember crying and
 wailing: ‘what am I going to do?!’

I haven’t driven since my brain haemorrhage, and I find this absolutely hilarious now.

To be honest it's only now I can say about my new normal ‘it’s rubbish but c’est la vie’
and to be really honest I can't even do that all the time.

My new normal doesn't sound great - I don't like to go to ‘new’ places or do ‘new’ or
‘different’ things not because I don’t want the experience or that I am scared of leaving
 the house because I am not. However, it is all the faff that I don't like - all the boring but
 necessary logistical questions (and these are often embarrassing - has it got a useable
downstairs toilet? I will do a whole post on the many joys of being disabled!) Even if people
 don’t mean or want it to look like a massive faff, I know it is.

I mean, if every time you went anywhere there was a massive fuss and you had to remember
 to check whether there was steps or gravel or the toilet situation would you want to go out???

That being said, I am venturing out a bit more and trying to slowly build up my confidence
again. It does have to be on my own terms though and I hate being pushed (I don't need to
 be - I just do things in my own time). I am doing the school run now 3 x afternoons a week,
I went to Greyfriars last week - which has amazing access inside, I go to the post box on my
 scooter and now the golf club.

The Golf Club was a huge thing for me . Both my children are keen golfers. My husband is a
keen (and in my opinion very good) golfer. We live next door to their golf club. My father-in-law
 was captain a few years back, his retirement party was there, my in-laws 40th wedding anniversary
celebrations was there and we have been to golf club xmas party for 7+ years. It's fair to say it does
feature somewhat in our lives.


However, I couldn’t take my children to practise at the golf club because there was no suitable
disabled access - they had two separate ramps but I couldnt use it.

After reading Matthew Syed’s book “You are awesome” (that I have mentioned before) he talk
s about the benefits of practise and I thought my children should have that opportunity so I made
 a fuss, wrote to the club who were exceptionally helpful and bought a new ramp that works for
 me straight away.

I am pleased that although I definitely do not like it, I have at least come to accept my ‘new’
 normal.

There was a time when I saw acceptance of my new normal as giving up and saying what
happened to me was ‘ok’. However, I don't see it like that anymore. My brain haemorrhage
 is part of me. It’s part of my life, part of my story.

And while it is a bit of an extreme way of looking at it, if it hadn't have happened to me I
wouldn't be writing this blog, have been in the Law Gazette or Roll on Friday, have had
something I wrote have over 2000 ‘people reach’ on Facebook (which is simply amazing
 and now, not to be completely ungrateful, my statistics look rubbish!), have this lovely
house or get to stay at home with my children guilt free.

I have to see the positives. Whilst that is very hard to do sometimes because this wasn't what
 I grew up expecting from my life.

I want to make it very clear it has not been all been negative and I like my life with my
husband and my children. It could be worse, I very nearly died so whilst I do find things
 incredibly frustrating (I hate to think of how many pens I have broken in temper because
my handwriting isn't great) it could be/ have been far worse...

I should also mention, I have lost count of how many well-meaning people have told me
I'm “so brave”. And I suppose if it were the other way round I would probably tell people
 they were brave too!

However, what they can’t or don’t see is that I got through being in hospital by pretending
 it wasn't happening (denial is an amazing thing) I would just act, most of the time, like
everything was fine and normal when it was far from that.

My grandmother has always been a big influence on me and I like to think I am quite like her.
I would always think how would she approach things and most of the time she would say if
 there is nothing you can do about it then put it out your mind. This is exactly what I do and
 have always done.

I am absolutely not and have never been brave. I just refuse to think about things because what's
 the alternative?

I just do what I have done for the last 5 years: put my head in the sand and convince myself
(and hopefully other people) that it's not that bad.

Denial is my friend and I'm embracing it.