Tag: Personal Growth

Happy birthday to me…?

I’m sure birthdays are coming round quicker the older I get. But hey. Getting older isn’t a guarantee, is it? And of all the days to remind me of that, it’s my birthday…

You see, for close to 20 years I’d joked that my birthday was jinxed. I joked that I was never going to start a new decade again. That I was going to just be 39+1, 39+2 etc, etc… Because my birthdays when I turned 20 and 30 hadn’t been easy. My 20th birthday was spent in St Bart’s Hospital with Mr C having his first chemotherapy session. My 30th birthday was spent feeling ill after I got food poisoning. We also had no plans to celebrate because Mr C had been made redundant a few months before, hadn’t been able to secure a new job and I had just returned to work from maternity leave so things were a little tight. As you can imagine, I was approaching my 40th with a sense of trepidation.

What I was unprepared for was the carnage that my 39th birthday would bring. To the point I actually queried whether I’d got confused and I was turning 40 that day instead. It’s taken me three years to sit down and really be able to think about that day. About just what it was like dialling 999 in the early hours of my birthday, the complete juxtaposition of the day and the lasting impact it’s had on me.

I’m not entirely sure what time I rang for an ambulance now, but it was somewhere between 3am and 4am. It’s all such a blur. I don’t function particularly well on disturbed or lack of sleep at the best of times, let alone when my world is imploding. I do remember initially thinking that I’d just ring MedOcc rather than 999, they were busy after all and I didn’t want to be a bother, but something instinctively changed in me as I walked down the stairs to turn my phone on to get the number for MedOcc. That was the last night I turned my phone off before I went to bed. I don’t think there’ll ever come a time when I’m comfortable to turn it off overnight again. As I spoke to the incredibly calm 999 call handler, the enormity of what was happening just hit me. We were living in the middle of a pandemic, my husband was most likely suffering from COVID-19, the virus we didn’t really know a lot about, nobody could come into our house to help us and our daughter had woken to chaos, hearing her father struggling for breath and her mother just trying to do the best she could in those circumstances. I remember running up and down the stairs in my PJs, fluffy dressing gown and alicorn slippers (a sight to behold, I’m sure you’d agree!) trying to keep Miss C calm and reassure Mr C as we waited for the ambulance to arrive. It took what felt like forever. How long it really was, again, I don’t know.

And as the paramedics started to tend to him, the nervous energy kicked in. I joked with him and them that this was the most elaborate way of getting out of buying me a birthday card that I’d ever come across. That this was now the second birthday of mine that I’d be remembering for him being ill. Little did I know what was about to happen. That gut instinct of mine that had made me call for an ambulance, was proven to be right. Because if those paramedics hadn’t been there and given him oxygen, I’m 99% certain he’d have died at home. I won’t ever forget what I witnessed. The severity of the situation was rapidly becoming more and more apparent. I didn’t understand. He’d been stood in the bathroom shaving six hours before. How the hell could this be happening? But it really, really was. They told me they needed to take him to hospital to get checked over and to call two hours later. This would be ok. They’d just do those checks and then I’d go and get him. He walked down the stairs to the ambulance and that was to be the last time we ever saw him in person. This was around 4:30am. As he got into the ambulance, I made my daughter shout that she loved him. I needed both him and her to have that as a lasting memory.

I was too wired to go back to sleep. Miss C was too wired to go back to sleep. So, we did what all sensible people would do. Downloaded Disney+ and watched movies. Our world was imploding so we turned to Disney. Escapism. Fantasy. And a way of putting off the inevitable. I decided not to ring people at that point because I didn’t have any answers and didn’t really know what I’d say. So, at 6:30am I rang A&E as I’d been told to do and learnt that he’d been taken to Intensive Care, sedated and ventilated. Hmmmm. This wasn’t the message I was meant to be being given, I honestly and genuinely thought they’d tell me to go and pick him up. But I knew in that moment that I’d have to start making calls. But how? What was I meant to say? I just sat there in shock for a bit longer. I just sat there staring at my phone willing this nightmare to not be happening.

And then the messages started, because no-one other than my mum and stepdad knew what had happened. That was only because I’d needed someone to talk to Miss C on the phone while I was with the paramedics. Messages such as “Happy birthday! Hope you enjoy it despite the strange circumstances”, “Happy birthday, hope Charlie is feeling better today” were coming through. I just stared at them inanely. Right. It was time to put the big girl pants on and start telling people. I think I waited until 7am though, I needed to process what I’d been told and I also thought 7am felt a more appropriate time to ring people, before that was too early. It’s astonishing what goes through your mind in times of chaos.

My sister was one of the first people I rang, I vividly remember saying to her amongst the sobs “I’m scared, I’m just so, so scared.” I gave her a list of people to tell because I couldn’t face doing all these calls. I remember talking to one of Mr C’s sisters who told me the plan her and her sister had come up with for Miss C if I fell ill too. I phoned work, I phoned a couple of other friends and other people I simply messaged. I’m sure most of these calls and messages were incoherent. It’s why I assigned different people the tasks of telling other friends and family. I didn’t really know what I was doing. All the while, the birthday messages were still coming. Deliveries were arriving. It was, quite simply, overwhelming. I couldn’t deal with it. Shock. Hope. Worry. Positivity. That was to be the first day of me becoming so completely reliant on my phone as my lifeline.

Somehow, we made it through the day. The birthday messages were still coming. The Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn messages were mounting. I had a decision to make. Ignore them, be polite and say thank you to people or admit what was happening to us. I chose the latter. I made a very conscious decision on that day to use social media to start telling our story and use it as a way of getting support. It was the best decision I ever made. The virtual support I got at a time when I couldn’t get physical support meant so very, very much. It always will.

And then as we headed into the evening, in classic Miss C style, she pointed out I hadn’t opened any cards or presents. Her view was that it was still my birthday and I needed to do it. In that moment, my child probably saved my birthday forever more. Because she reminded me that life goes on, irrespective of what else is happening. She found 39 candles (don’t ask me why we had so many!) and put them on a cake. She arranged for my mum, stepdad, sister and nieces to video call me and sing Happy Birthday. We smiled. Against all odds, we smiled. The rest of that day and the next few weeks is, as they say, history…

Fast forward a year. I turned 40 on the first anniversary of Mr C being admitted. I was unsure how this was this going to go. I knew people would be so aware of this. What felt like an unfathomable day actually turned out be a good day. Family, friends and colleagues all made that extra bit of effort for me. I was so humbled. Lockdown restrictions lifted slightly the day before and so I was allowed visitors in my garden. It was a day tinged with sadness I have to admit, but I smiled on the day. I really did. After all, life begins at 40…

Fast forward another year. I had my delayed 80s themed 40th party and the next day my heart felt full for the first time in a long time. Yet, my birthday did fall during the time I wasn’t working. I arranged to meet my sister for a spot of shopping and lunch. I did this. And then in the biggest twist of fate, I ended up having to go to the hospital Mr C had been admitted to two years to the day before. Two years prior, it was the only place I wanted to be. That day it was the only place I didn’t want to be. I’m not ashamed to say that as I pulled into the car park, I broke down. How was this happening again on my birthday? Fortunately, it wasn’t for anywhere near as serious as the reasons of 2020 and the amazing NHS once again took brilliant care of my family. But still. That night however, I ended up having an unplanned curry with my family. The following night I went for dinner with one of my oldest friends and then did a quiz with a number of other people. In amongst the chaos, smiles and happiness were possible. Just like my child showed me was possible in 2020.

And now we land at today. This is 42. Not been the easiest week getting to today, but I went to the office for the first time on my birthday since 2018. For most people this would seem like something dull to do; I have friends who take the day off on their birthday; but for me, it felt like a hurdle that I needed to overcome. I needed to do something for me. To be around people on this day. I went for lunch with a lovely colleague. The team bought me sweet treats. I had human connection. I’m going out for dinner with my daughter this evening. All things that remind me that life moves forward and things I desperately wanted and would have begged to be able to do three years ago.

So. Happy Birthday to me. How do I feel about my birthday now? Honestly? It’s the weirdest day in the world for me. The impact of what happened on 30 March 2020 will never, ever leave me. It’s simply not possible for it to. Because each year I turn older, I can’t help but be reminded that Mr C doesn’t. Because while he didn’t die on my birthday, that day was without question the beginning of the end. No two ways about it. I never spoke to him again. I’ve never been wished by him or wished him a Happy Birthday again. That messes with my head. I have no doubt that it always, always will. I am already dreading 2026 and 2027. I should never be the same age as him, I should never be older than him. But God willing, I will. And those two days are going to sting a little bit.

But those two days will also be a reminder that I am still living. Because my daughter reminded me of that in 2020 and it’s something that I continue to remember, and be thankful for, to this day. It’s a real cliché, but growing old really is a privilege. Life is for living and making the most of all opportunities. It’s what my late husband did and three years since I last heard his voice, I realise that, quite frankly, it’s exactly what I intend to, and need to do too.

Be Thankful

Images of different sayings for Be Thankful and the original message from my niece

It was on this day three years ago, that a text message from a six-year-old changed my life. That might sound fairly dramatic, but that message really did have a massive impact on me and how I look at life. There isn’t a chance that she’d even remember it, but I do.

For those of you that follow my personal accounts on social media, you’ll know that every day I post something which includes this: #BeThankful. I try to find one thing a day that I’m thankful for, no matter what my day might have been like. It’s something that I started doing in 2019 and has now become a part of my everyday life.

In my previous blog on my mental health, I wrote about how 2018 was the lowest I’d ever been mentally. I was at rock bottom. It took me a lot of time and effort to claw my way back to feeling like I could survive and cope with life again. But the start of 2019 suddenly saw stress building again. Within the space of 24 hours my sister and I went from the euphoria of seeing Boyzone and me catching Ronan Keating’s hat to being in disarray at care for my nan. As my rollercoaster life started to dip and the stress started, I could feel myself slipping back into old ways. What I was most comfortable doing. It was so easy to focus on all the negative in my life.

But I knew that I couldn’t go back to how I’d felt in 2018. I knew that I had to do something that would stop me just focusing on the negative and try to change my mindset. I wasn’t entirely sure what I could do but then in amongst the stress, I mentioned to Mr C about something good that had happened that day. It was like an epiphany. In that moment, I decided that no matter how hard my day had been I would find one thing a day to “Be Thankful” for and share it on Twitter. I tagged in some of my work colleagues to let them know what I was doing with an image that said “Be thankful for what you have. Be fearless for what you want.” I sort of figured that if I’d publicly said I was going to do it, that I’d be accountable for doing it. It was almost like a pressure that I put on myself to do this. But a good pressure. Yet when I made that first post, I had no idea whether I’d even be able to stick to it. I had no idea whether it would actually make the blindest bit of difference.

But over the next few months, it did make a difference. I started to realise that even on those days when there were a number of stresses that I could find something. Some days it was small such as cooking a meal for Mr C and not giving him food poisoning (oh how that one has come back to haunt me now!) the washing basket being empty, a nice walk or a good day at work with brilliant colleagues. Other days it might be something fairly big such as seeing a show and being thankful for it. It was starting to change my mindset. It was starting to change the way I looked at the world.

And then I reached 18 June 2019. I vividly remember this day. It was a particularly tough day at work. I’d been going through a particularly tough few weeks and it all culminated on this day. I left the office in tears. I wasn’t in a great place. I got home and said to Mr C that I wasn’t going to do my Be Thankful’s anymore. That there was just no point. That they were a complete waste of time. I was fed up of trying to find the positive even on days when there really, really wasn’t anything. I suspect I also yelled or cried at my sister over the phone. Because a little while later I got a text message from my six-year-old niece. I’ve added it to the image at the top of this blog. When I received it, I cried. Because on that ridiculously tough day, she reminded me that I was loved. She made me smile with her innocence. And she taught me an incredibly valuable lesson that day. That even when you might not realise it initially or feel it, there really is always, always something to be thankful for. She became the inspiration I needed. She spurred me on.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this would be the start of the next phase of the 2019 rollercoaster ride. I’d suspected that I was at a crossroads in my career at that point and that day in particular, cemented it for me. I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going to go or what to do next. I thought back to some advice that has always stuck with me shared by a previous line manager “it’s your life, it’s your career, the only person who can change it is you.” After a lot of soul searching and external coaching, I made the move to a new role. I joined a fabulous team. I felt I’d finally found where I was meant to be. It put me back on the upward trajectory of my rollercoaster. This was the start of September 2019, just six months before my rollercoaster would completely dip again in a somewhat spectacular fashion that none of us would have seen coming.

It actually scares me now to reflect on this. Because a few weeks after I started my new role, Mr C and I were having a conversation in the car. I remember it like it was yesterday. I have no doubt that I always will. My tweet for the day was this ““Life feels settled” I said to Mr C today. “It’s like I’m in the calm before the storm.” Who knows if or when that storm will come but on day 230 I’m going to #BeThankful for the calm and all that brings.” I shared it with an image that said, “Be thankful for all you have, because you never know what might happen next!” Wow. It’s sort of hard to remember and contemplate a time in my life when I didn’t feel like I was living in a storm. Two weeks after I posted that tweet, we learnt there was a chance he could be made redundant. Three months later, he was. Six months later his first symptom of COVID-19 showed. Seven months later he was dead. Seems I was fairly prophetic with my calm before the storm statement. I blinking wish I hadn’t been.

But even after we had the news that he might be made redundant, I continued doing my daily Be Thankful’s. I ended up doing them for an entire year. They sort of became ingrained in me. Other people started to tell me they looked forward to seeing them and reminding themselves to look for something in their day. I remember someone telling me that she had tried to do a daily “Be Happy” but all it had really served to do was show her that she wasn’t happy. It’s interesting isn’t it? Because when we try to force ourselves to feel something, it becomes incredibly difficult to do. When we allow ourselves to feel something no matter what else might have happened and to help us breathe a little bit, it becomes far more natural. I don’t in any way claim to be a psychologist, but these conversations do make me stop and think about people, how we respond to situations and what helps our mindset.

And of course, I do remember overthinking it and asking people what I should do when my year was up. I hadn’t really had an idea of how long I’d do them for when I started, but a year felt like a good time to finish. And of course. The marketer in me did a nice little word cloud when that year was up. I queried if I should do a daily “Be Brave” (my sister started giving me ideas such as jumping out of a plane). But again. Had I gone down that route, it probably would have been prophetic. Who knew what I was about to face in my life. But I didn’t. Shortly before Mr C fell ill and I was getting fed up with all the doom and gloom on my timeline, I started doing the Be Thankful’s again. I invited other people to join me. One of the Twitter family started doing it, I believe she’s on day 823 now. I love seeing her daily tweets and knowing that someone else does this as well.

After I started them again in March 2020, I carried on doing them for a little while after he fell ill and then I stopped. It was just something else I didn’t need to be doing or thinking about. I had enough on my plate. And to be honest, I was completely struggling coming up with things in those ridiculously early days. It was bleak. It was hard work. No two ways about it. But it recently popped up on my Facebook memories that I did start doing them again in June 2020. I’d had the weirdest day where grief was getting me in every which way. Of course it was. My husband hadn’t been dead for two months, I don’t know why I expected anything else. I was up. I was down. I was up. I was down again. And then I managed to build a computer chair. I felt I was going to carry them on this time.

Except I know I didn’t. At some point I stopped doing them. I can’t tell you when and I can’t really tell you why, because I don’t actually know. Until 1 December 2021. I remember it because it was a day that felt like someone had flicked a switch. I spent a lot of the day in tears. Mr C absolutely loved Christmas and just seeing December on the calendar and knowing we were about to do our second Christmas without him tipped me over the edge. It felt that it was going to be harder than the one the previous year. I could feel the potential for me to spiral. So, I decided that I was going to return to an old faithful just for a month and see where it took me… I’m now on day 201 of this round of Be Thankful.

I’m so incredibly glad I started doing it again. Yes, there are days when it feels like a stretch to find something. But I always do. People always tell me that I’m so positive. I disagree. I don’t think I’m positive. I don’t pretend the tough times don’t happen. I don’t try to turn them into a positive. But what I am is a realist. And I try to find just the tiniest shred of hope and something to appreciate even on those tough days. About a month ago, that same niece of mine said “I’m proud of you” when I was talking about being nominated for an award for my blog. Again. Something so small at the end of a really long day, but the impact it had was immeasurable. Finding one thing that is good in a day is just something I have to do to help my mindset and help me survive the madness.

Because as the prints around my house remind me. There is always, always something to be thankful for. I don’t know why I ever forgot that really. The kindest and sweetest six-year-old taught me that three years ago. And I will forever be thankful to her that she did.