A Collection of Uninspiring Thoughts

 What is this costing me? Me. My job. My friends. My health. My goals. My hobbies. The version of me that existed before all of this. I can't be tired. I can't stop. I just take everything thats thrown at me. And everything thats thrown at my child. Constantly alert. Constantly expecting bad news.  Constantly facing new walls and barriers, constantly fighting, climbing and breaking through them. I'll do it but what is actually left of me? My own health and identity have been disappearing. And now I'm spending my evening holding back tears about pasta. It's not about pasta. It's the final straw and confirms everything I already knew. No one is interested in making things easier unless I jump through a thousand hoops first. Prove I'm not lying. Prove I understand my child. Prove he cannot eat potato. Prove everything. It is unnecessarily difficult. Nothing is accessible without a fight. Barrier. Barrier. Barrier. Its just hard. And I want to have a moan about...

 It's been quite a week. I'm done with all this hatred and violence.  I look at the Union Jack and feel no pride. Not because I hate where I come from, but what it represents: conquest, power, injustice, oppression.  I was born British, yet I feel strangely homeless within it. Patriotism asks me to celebrate a story that contains extraordinary achievements, but also centuries of domination, exploitation, and suffering. And it continues.  I refuse to have anything to do with a culture where so much hurt has been caused and continues to be caused in the name of Britishness.  It's not the Britishness I associate with. I cannot relate to these campaigns at all. The suspicion and vitriol directed at those who look different, sound different, pray differently, or simply arrived later. The constant need to decide who belongs and who doesn't. The instinct to punch down rather than reach out. My type of British embraces diversity and I use discernment to decide if a pers...

  It genuinely breaks my heart to see families and children forced to endure the reality of "wait and see" support in education until they're in crisis and it's too late. Assessments delayed. Support delayed. CAMHS (laughable if the consequences weren’t so devastating). Referrals delayed. Endless paperwork and battles for EHCPs/ statements. It feels utterly futile at times. Exhausting. The emotional and mental toll is immeasurable. I pursued two tribunals knowing full well that, despite overwhelming evidence, nothing might come of them. Refusal to assess is a delay tactic. Going to tribunal is a delay tactic. Confusing procedures, inaccessible language, loopholes… delay, delay, delay. The parent is almost always at a disadvantage unless they somehow find the capacity to research the system, learn the rules, understand the wording, anticipate the obstacles, and keep fighting long after they are already emotionally depleted. Parents become hypervigilant, and onc...

Recently, we all made it to church for the first time in months. I forgot the ear defenders, silly me, but no panic cause there are always some somewhere. Thankful for that. We got there and kindness literally ran and met us at the door. Hands reached out like a big warm blanket, because now there's a new SEN kids group running parallel to the other Sunday kids group. And several people came straight over to tell me and open the invitation. And as his mummy, I don’t quite have words for what this feels like. Healing, maybe. Like a soothing balm on the edges of my heart that have splintered. Definitely moved that others care about and love my child and remember his needs as soon as we step in the door, and that there is a space for him and other children who struggle. He's welcome. So often, I can tell people don't want him around.  Indifference rather than rejection.   He feels it too.   So to be welcomed at the door and invited as soon as they sp...

I was an avid blogger in my youth and have decided to reignite my passion for reporting mundane facts and stories to pass the time.  They say journaling is good for your mental health; it did nothing for mine in 2004.  But now I've come to realise that my mental state and above-average emotions may be the driving force behind my literary prowess. There's a lot going on in my heart and mind and finding the words for it all is good for vocabulary expansion.  So here's to the return of blogging.  I will mostly be writing about myself and things that matter to me - hopefully mostly good things, but I like to keep things balanced and honest, so expect some anguish in there too. Thanks for reading.  Welcome to my fan club.