#atinylife world gone tiny

I spent a bit of time thinking about what to write today. And I still don’t know what to say.

But it seemed important to say something.

It’s a bit weird for me, because although I don’t usually stop seeing everyone or have my kids at home full-time, in many ways I’ve lived a tinylife for a while now. My thoughts are with those who live with less privilege than I do.

tinylife worldwide

Also, I find the world much easier to understand when no one is expected to show up, be unstressed, suffer in silence, or operate in ‘normal’ human ways. So I’m feeling remarkably well in my mental health. My anxiety isn’t based in reality.

I hope you are all OK out there. If anyone wants to get in touch, my Twitter DMs are open, or you can comment below.

 

 

 

#atinylife GP

Because we are moving house soon, I want to take this opportunity to write a love letter to my GP.

No, not that kind of love letter.

Silly.

I am still very much married to Mr HB, thank you.

My GP is amazing. We have navigated some tricky times together –  always together, he doesn’t tell me what to do – with my family’s care. He knew *zero* about trans kids but is 100% supportive.

God Bless the NHS

I suffer from migraines (or bad headaches, if yours are worse than mine) , and recently I over-medicated with the one medicine that used to work. We found an alternative.

And he is always there to help with my very poor mental health, my all new asthma, my dodgy hip, the list goes on and on…

The guy is a hero. Just wanted to go on record with that.

#atinylife not-menopause

Did I tell you I’d been to the doctor about night sweats?

I was absolutely sure it was early onset menopause. ‘It’s the StReSs!’ I said to my GP. He sent bloods off for testing and apart from the traumatic experience of the surgery calling me on a Thursday morning and taking A LONG TIME to tell me I was basically fine, with slightly low iron levels, all was well. No menopause. Phew.

not early menopause

 

So, this is the bit where I admit to wasting NHS time. I am so sorry, NHS, I know how busy you are.

It was my new blanket. It’s not breathable. I realised when I took it to bed again after leaving it in the living room for a week or so.

I get night sweats when I wrap myself in its huge beautiful soft greyness.

Doofus.

#atinylife your annual reminder

Dear tinylifers,

This is your annual reminder to make time for yourself over Christmas.

It is a great time of year (for many, not for everyone) to see friends and family, buy thoughtful gifts, decorate your house top to toe in tinsel or greenery: wrap, post, socialise, and eat, eat, eat.

It is a great time to stretch yourself to breaking and end up exhausted.

If you can, plan some days that are empty. Or some hours. Or some minutes. Force yourself to sit down. Or go to sleep. Or breathe.

It is OK to not have a wonderful time every moment of every day over Christmas. It is OK if your children do not have a wonderful time every moment of their school holiday. You get to be a person too.

tiny love

Stay tiny!

tinylife will return on 12th January.

#atinylife Autumn Song

Autumn SongAutumn: I wake before the sun rises.

Warm myself on a cup of tea,

the feeling of my hands across the keyboard,

the central heating’s clicks and taps.

The sun’s light pierces clouds ruffled

on the horizon,

reminding me it’s still here

even at this turn of the year.

Rising into the sky, all blue and white

and blue and white

and falling leaves. Rain comes on

from nowhere, and I shut the window tight,

watch the leaves, pushed off

by the wind to fall with the raindrops,

to end up slicked, shining on the concrete.

By teatime, the sun is gone again.

Pink clouds wrestle with the oranges,

the yellows, the browns of the trees.

Red berries are picked out

in the evening light. Drops rest on the branches,

 

the rooks fly over like factory workers, heading for home.

 

#tinylife September weekend

September WeekendWe used to start our Christmas shopping

on the September long weekend we get here.

 

Until the year we stood at the mirror in the hall

and I said ‘they could share a room, anyway.’

Until the year the midwives had said ‘a line is a line is a line,’

then the bleeding started.

Until the year we had been a tiny little bit pregnant

so we went to Holy Island

now we weren’t pregnant at all, you took the toddler for a walk

so I could sit on a dune and cry.

 

Until the year we were pregnant again by October.

 

Every September weekend, I remember

the tiny little bit of pregnant I was,

over that long weekend: the anniversary of you,

you tiny little bit that never came to anything.

We never start our Christmas shopping in September.

#atinylife Listen Softly Gifford!

My favourite thing about 2019 so far is being a fancy Poet-in-Residence.Listen Softly

And, as poet-in-residence of Lanterne Rouge, I would like to invite you all to a night of spoken word, tea, coffee and cake on Saturday 18th May, 7:30pm at the Lanterne Rouge, Gifford. The folks over at Listen Softly have very kindly lent me their brand, and a co-host for the evening, and Cameron has very kindly lent me his café!

We’ll be hearing from young and old(er) poets ranging from 11 years old to 85. Claire Askew, Mary Johnston, Hannah McCooke and Nicki Birrell. There are also three open mic spots: sign up on the night to be in with a chance of reading yourself!

It would be amazing to get a good turnout, so please share this with any friends that might like to come along. See you there?