Venturing into the new world of blogging, I’ve been thinking about all the things I want to talk about, be it words of wisdom, things I wish I’d been told before, or topics that generally interest me. I decided that the first three blogs should be able to give you a sense of who I am and what I believe in. Especially to those of you who don’t know me.
The first blog introduced the ideas of why I’ve started the blog, the second was around my beliefs as a kidult (read it if you haven’t already and that will make more sense!) and coming to the here and now of the third blog, I think it would be remiss of me to not talk about my health. Don’t worry. This is not a pity post! If anything, its a celebration of things past and things achieved. It may get a little honest and heavy, but please don’t let that put you off.

If you’ve read my ‘about’ page, you’ll know that I have a chronic health condition called myalgic encephalomyelitis – ME for short. I was diagnosed back in 2007 at the age of nineteen. The condition will not ever leave me and there is no cure. But make no mistake. It does not define who I am. It is merely one aspect of the many pieces of the puzzle that creates me.

Before I go on, I want to give you a wee overview of the condition from my point of view. I appreciate that it varies from person to person, with some people completely bed bound and unable to have much of a life. I am one of the lucky ones that has been able to learn to manage the condition to the point that I have a full life. Yes, there are times when the condition flares or I relapse, but plenty rest and accepting what my body and mind needs at the time usually does the trick.

The term myalgic encephalomyelitis can be broken down into three elements: myalgic meaning muscle pain, encephalo meaning the brain and myelitis meaning inflammation.

The condition has a myriad of symptoms that vary in degree. On a day-to-day basis I always have pain present in my muscles and joints, mainly my spine and neck. On a flare, this is exacerbated and spreads to my legs, hands, and arms. The circulation in my body can be poor which also results in pain. Thankfully this usually presents itself with the flares and not in the day to day. I also get muscle spasms. Again, flares only.

Cognitively I have brain fog a lot, meaning I’ll lose words for things, forget my sentences, forget people’s names, and have complete mind blanks where there is literally nothing in my head. Concentration can also be a big challenge. These things are always present but again vary in severity.

Finally, there is the fatigue. Again, this is always present, every day. Just sometimes it’s a lot worse. It’s a different sort of tired from the tired you feel at the end of a day, or the tired you feel when you haven’t had a great sleep the night before. It’s a relentless exhaustion that on some days will physically prevent me from lifting my head off the pillow, let alone get out of bed. Sometimes the day will feel like it’s moving in slow motion, or that I’m moving in slow motion, and everything is speeded up. There are also other additional symptoms like headaches, sore throat, and sensory overloads. It’s quite something. As you’ll have realised by now, it’s quite the smorgasbord!

When I was first diagnosed there was a mix of relief and denial. Relief that I was being taken seriously and that I was right, something was wrong. But denial that it was ME. That the life I once knew was no more. At nineteen that was a hard pill to swallow. I don’t remember much of the eight and a half months of being bed bound as my brain had shut down a fair bit. I do remember taking comfort in horror films though. I’d watch them to get a scare, because when I got a scare, there was a small adrenaline rush in my body that reminded me I was still alive. I still watch horror films, as they help me to put life into perspective sometimes.

There were points when I wanted to give up, but I didn’t. This was not what my life was going to be. I refused to accept that I would be ill for the rest of my life. So, I fought. I fought as much as I could when I couldn’t. That fight looked different at various points in the rehabilitation process. Fighting in the sense of learning about the condition and my bodies response. Listening to my mind and what it was telling me, acknowledging when it was fear talking, and when it wasn’t. Relying on the support of close friends and family throughout was invaluable. It was often them that would help me to note when I was doing a bit too much for the day. Having gone from being bathed by my mum, to being able to sit outside with people, it was hard at times to not push myself too much. The reality of the impacts of doing too much too soon was present. Yes, it was amazing being outside with people, but at what cost? How much would I pay for it later. An hour or two hours seated in a garden on a sunny day with friends and family could mean three days in bed resting. Ultimately, and even now, there is always a price to pay for everything I do and how I live my life. So, for me it’s about weighing up the value with the return. Is this thing I need to do today, going to be worth being in bed for a couple of days as of tomorrow.

Over the past fourteen years I’ve learned how to manage the condition. I’ve had ups and downs to the point I’ve questioned if there was a point to it all. Yet I continued to fight. I want to use this blog and this space to continually remind me of the things that are important and reflect on where I am today. I’m generally healthy, with only occasional flares and it’s been a while (touch wood!) since I’ve had a relapse! Long may that continue. I work full time, and although I rest a lot in the evening and weekends, I live a full and happy life.

My intention is to do another blog that goes into a bit more detail about the recovery and rehabilitation process but for now, I guess what I’m saying is please don’t give up. Whatever it is you’re going through, keep fighting, take it minute by minute or hour by hour if you must. Things will and do get better.

The adversity can be overcome. You’ve got this.

This has been a SmartPonders.
Thanks for reading.
Steph x

Following on from the debut blog post, (which if you haven’t read already, please do!) it felt logical to take some time to write a bit more about ‘adulting’ and my experiences of it thus far. Got to say, it’s a bit of a rollercoaster, right?? Not only that… No one warns you about it. It just creeps up on you! Let me elaborate.

In the previous post, I acknowledged that there has definitely been a transition, even somewhat of an acceptance into adulthood. Or what I deem to be adulthood. As much adulthood as I’m willing to embark on anyway. My partner and I have a house together, we co-parent, we have a fur baby (yes, I am that person) and we both have successful careers. We have goals, we have aspirations, and we have a pension plan. Yet, I don’t feel like and adult, or rather what I think it should feel like to be an adult. Quite frankly, I’m embracing it.

When does it actually happen though? When do you become an adult? What even is an adult? Obviously, I can only share my own views here, but I’d love to hear what yours are, so please feel free to leave any comments! What is your experience of being an adult?

For me, there wasn’t a particular moment in time when I suddenly realised that I was an adult. It was more like a lot of little moments happening over a short transition period from student to adult. Obviously, you cannot be both.
I finished my master’s degree in May of 2017, by the time October arrived I had relocated from Edinburgh back to the Highlands, I was working as a lecturer, I was living in my own flat, I had my own car. And of course, I met Ade. I was an adult now. And there is nothing I can do about it.

What I’ve learned so far is that there is a difference between the adult I am, versus the adult that society expects me to be, or that adult that I expect society to expect me to be. If you get my meaning.
For example, some find it odd that I spontaneously burst into song or start speaking in a different accent. Apparently, this is not the norm.

Example.
Last month, my partner, my stepdaughter and I went down to Edinburgh for the day. We were helping my sister move into her new flat, so killed two birds with one stone by going to the markets. It was a complete bust though as it was far too busy, we could barely move. So, we settled for a wander around the city taking in the lights instead. On said wanders, myself and my partner were talking to each other in Northern English accents. We do this quite a lot, much to the dismay of the fifteen-year-old. The accent will vary to keep things fresh. Anyway, my other half is a big Lego fan, so when we spotted a Lego bag, we began asking each other where the store might be, that it was exciting that one was nearby and whether we wanted to go. All in the Northern English accent. Cue the moment a young local man turned round to us to provide directions to the Lego store. Lovely, right?! I of course said thank you having dropped the accent without thinking. His face was quite the picture. Although it was only later that I realised he may have thought we were taking the mic with the Scottish Accent. So, Edinburgh Sir – if you happen to read this, please know my thank you was sincere, and in my own accent. My partner and I are just a pair of twits.

My friends and I often talk to each other about the things no one tells you about being an adult. No one tells you about the anxiety that seems to be there all the time in one form or another. Whether it’s worries about work, family, relationships, money, even the world! Especially of late. There is almost an air of feeling helpless, as if the cycle we’re in appears never ending. I think that’s why I’ll never stop playing. I don’t want to be led by anxiety and fear. Think of the wrinkles!

So, my plan is to compromise! I will accept the responsibilities and duties of my adult self BUT I will also embrace my eccentricities, continue to dream, to play and to find the joy anywhere I can. Whether that’s through accents, characters or make believe – for I can conlcude that I am a ‘kidult’.

Kidult – The adults who refuse to act their age, who embrace their inner child.

This has been a SmartPonder.
Thanks for reading!

Steph x

It is said that at the end of each day, a chapter of your life closes. Sometimes the closing of a chapter takes longer than a day. It may close at the end of a week, the end of a month, or year. Sometimes the chapter closes at the end of a life event such as finishing college, a new job, a new house, a move, or even a break up. There are moments that happen every day in our lives that creates questions, opportunities, and change. Sometimes we are aware of this. Other times we aren’t. The pages turn regardless.

One thing certain, is that what follows the closing of a chapter, is a brand new chapter. A blank page. A time to reflect, grow, improve, change, explore and try something new. This is where this blog comes in.

I love to write. I love the journey of education. I love reflection. I love observation. I love many other things too, all of which I have no doubt will make an appearance through the lifetime of this blog.

Of late, my partner and I have been asking the big questions of what we want out of life. In our thirties, we’re wondering ‘is this it?’ Have we made it now into adulthood? I think back to my student days (I was a mature student) when some friends had already made the transition. I would take pride in informing them of occassions when I had successfully ‘adulted’ – taken from the verb to adult; also see adulting. Things like completing a tax return, using fabric softner, baking homemade bread, or buying a kitchen appliance. Some of those friends would laugh and mock, stating I was already an adult as I lived in my own (rented) accomodation, paid my own bills mostly (thanks mum and dad!) and generally fended for myself. However, I never really felt like an adult. I’m not sure how to articulate how being an adult actually feels but I do acknowledge that things have changed since then. Maybe that’s a blog for another day.

Back to the here and now though. Lately I’ve been lacking a creative outlet, a space to create unapologetically. I appreciate that sounds a tad pretencious, but it is not intended to be. There is a value that I hold dear in the ability to be creative, whether that’s writing, singing, acting, directing etc. It got me through some dark days, and continues to be a thing of love and self-care, intrisically part of me. And so, in response to that lack, this blog was born.

It is intended to be a mix of things surrounding those loves I have in life; writing, education, learning, improvement and general pondering of questions big and small. I’m embacing the journey and very much hope that you’ll accompany me on the ride.

Here’s to the first words of a new chapter.

Love
Steph x