Hello again. It’s me. Seems I can’t keep away.
For a long time now, I have barely posted on the blog. I’ve had my reasons and even tried to explain most of them. But it was one thing to take a break from blogging because everything felt a bit much. To say to myself that I probably wouldn’t blog again, like a did a little over a month ago, was quite another, it turns out.
In the past six or seven weeks, I’ve been itching to get back to the blog and have had a lot of time to think about why blogging matters so much to me. Several things have become pretty clear to me in that time.
For one, blogging helps me keep track of Boo’s progress. This may sound odd. After all, every inchstone achieved by Boo is so hard won. Isolating an index finger to point is like completing an ultra-marathon in our house. And I will never forget how hard it was for him to learn that. But I can only tell you when he learned to do that because I wrote about in on the blog many months ago.
You can’t see glaciers moving, but if you only keep track of them you can see they do with a grace and poise that is truly miraculous. My blog did that for Boo’s development. I miss keeping track of him and losing sight of the bigger picture. It (by which I mean he) is really quite astonishing.
Blogging is also one of my main points of contact with other people in similar (or sometimes quite different) situations. I have learned so much about equipment, dealing with services, getting what’s needed, or just by commiserating with others over the past couple of years. Without the blog and that connection, I don’t exactly feel lost at sea, but I feel like my life preserver has a slow puncture. I don’t need to be rescued (yet) but I want enough support so that I can swim to safety on my own.
Another thing I have come to realise in the past few months, is that I care just too much to just be quiet and not speak out about the terrible injustices I see as health and support services are cut for vulnerable people. In the past two months I have had two healthcare professionals break down in front of me about their fears for their patients. Boo is one of these patients, of course. For now he is fine. But I am not confident he always will be. This terrifies me and I can’t just keep quiet about the things I see. Once the scales fall from your eyes, as they did from mine a little over three years ago, you have a responsibility to act on what you see.
But of course, the biggest thing I realised (if I had ever been in any doubt) is that I am, frankly, saner and happier when I inhabit this little corner of the blogosphere. Writing helps me think. Writing helps me make sense of how I feel. In the last few months I don’d mind telling you that I have had a bit of a wobble. Nothing major, but a wobble nonetheless. And the sway is getting a little bigger each day. I don’t know whether it’s the endless therapy goals set and not met. The struggles for several vital pieces of equipment we are struggling with. Maybe it’s my ever increasing back pain (which scares me not because I can’t put up with it, but because I am terrified that I will wake up one morning and not be able to pick him up that day).
Maybe it’s the significant birthday coming up next year. Or my worries about Boo’s sister, who is doing well in so many ways, but has also had a big wobble herself lately and I don’t know how to fix her. Maybe it’s that Sissyboo is changing schools this year and that Boo starts school next near. Facing up to the prospect of switching to EHCP, of battling to get him our choice of school, and of meeting the endless list of targets people think we should try to meet before he starts school is frankly completely overwhelming.
It’s all too much. Maybe this blog will help me make sense of things. It’s got to be worth a go, hasn’t it? So, I’m going to see if there’s still life in Premmeditations in the hopes that it can help me breathe again.