You may have noticed that I have been pretty quiet of late. I’m not really a quiet sort of person. It doesn’t come naturally, I can tell you.
I never meant to have another blogging break and I don’t much like it. But there it is.
Various things have been conspiring against me blogging recently. Life has really gotten in the way, with all the dramas over Boos childcare – still not fully resolved but much better – and some really taxing battles with services, not to mention more work than it is feasible for any human being to do without all these additional pressures.
And then there’s the whole anonymous thing. I worry I must seem precious or even downright weird having a blogging alias. But it has always been really important to me. Frankly, I would hate my work colleagues knowing the ins and outs of my SEN-frazzled mind. I would hate them to see all of the many chinks in my armour. I try very hard to make it look all nice and shiny to them.
And I just couldn’t say what I really wanted to say – what I really feel, I mean – if I wrote under my own name. People I care about who find it hard enough dealing with their own responses to Boo’s challenges shouldn’t have to deal with my baggage as well. Worst of all, if people started to associate the blog with me then it might start to affect Boo. What if the services I moan about here found out who I was – he was? I suppose it might mean they actually did what they were supposed to do. But it might mean they do the exact opposite.
The reality is that as the parents of disabled children we live a life where we are only fully in charge of our own destinies. It pains me to say that, but it’s true. We rely on people doing their job, on going the extra mile, of being kindly disposed to us. Knowing how hard things are when people do and are these things, I have to tell you that I can’t bear the thought of what would happen if they didn’t and weren’t. I can’t do that to Boo. I just can’t.
The fact is that we were in such a dreadful situation a few months ago that I had to throw out every lifeline available. My job and our home were on the line. I wrote and tweeted like crazy as both blog me and the supposedly real me. I posted on forums, I phoned charities, I contacted people who offered to help. I started to lose my anonymity and privacy and while I can take it – it’s a problem of my creation after all – others might not want to, and Boo shouldn’t have to face the possible consequences of this.
So what with one thing and another, I feel I have to stop blogging for a while. My short hiatus has become a more permanent sabbatical. I can’t tell you how sad this makes me and what a strange sense of loss I feel writing this. I am always writing posts in my head. They are cluttering up my mind now and there is little space for anything else to go on in there. People have suggested that I write and don’t post, and I may do that, but blogging was only ever partly therapy for me. The sense of connection to others has really meant a good deal to me in the past three years. (The fact I haven’t even been able to write a post to tell you about Boo being 3 really makes me feel sad, too.)
But there we are. I tried to go cold turkey – no blog and no Twitter – when I realised I should probably stop blogging for a while and it felt pretty horrid. So I am going to continue to tweet to try and stay in touch with some of you lovely people who have helped me so much recently. That’s if you’ll have me, of course.
And I hope that I will be able to blog again some time soon. I feel I have lost a very important crutch in my life and I am rather unsteady without it. But as Boo has taught me time and time again, if you wobble, you just get right back up again until one day you wobble a bit less.
Let’s hope I take after my son.
Thank you and hope to be back again soon.