Saturday, 12 November 2011


I went out last night, with some very old friends.

And we had an amazing chat - fuelled by alcohol, admittedly - and found out some things about eachother we never realised.

And it's struck me. How little we really know about other people's emotions.

I've revealed more on this blog than I ever have face to face with some of my closest friends. It's odd: I've always been able to share my feelings more readily by writing them down rather than speaking them out loud.

I have never talked properly to some of my loved ones about the despair I felt when my daughter was diagnosed with Prader-Willi Syndrome.

I held up a shield of bravado and got on with things and didn't complain.

It worked for me at the time. It was the only way for me to deal with the fact that my daughter had been born with a disorder that would not allow her to live a normal life. It still hurts me to my bones.

But putting up a front also meant I didn't necessarily share the good things. The joy I felt at other moments. The moments when things happened in my daughter's life that made me grin like a wide-mouthed frog. The ones that thrilled me to my bones.

But I get it now.

Life isn't fair. I know this. 

So. You can either sit there with a ball of twine, tying yourself up with knots of bitterness and bile.

Or you can fan out the strings of hope and possibility and chance and goodness and surprise and fun. And see what life picks up and tugs.

Video is Flight Of The Conchords - Hurt Feelings. 
Because if ever I'm feeling a bit down, this sorts me out by making me howl with laughter.
"I feel like a prize asshole 
No-one ever mentions my casserole
Could have said something nice about my profiteroles"


  1. If your blogs are alcohol fuelled too, then I'm worrying for you; your posting time 08:34. But they're not are they? Are they?

    I like the idea/concept of the bravado shield. We all wear one from time to time - one size fits all. Mine's looking a bit battered these days.

  2. This one was alcohol fuelled, I have to admit. That's not as bad as it sounds. I wrote it at about 1am, but posted it at 8.34am. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was thinking of the dangers of drinking and blogging. I thought it was best to look at the post with sober eyes before publishing it. You should have seen some of the drivel I took out!

    Oh, and that bravado shield. It's very useful. It's just it makes your arm ache and you need to put it down once in a while.

  3. When email came around I found it an absolute godsend.Not just for it's practicality but mainly for the fact I feel I can express myself far better in writing than I ever can in a phone call.

  4. I was interested in your comment that you've revealed more on your blog than you have to close friends. We've only met once, but I feel I know more about what drives you emotionally than I do some of the friends I've known for years. This is something that, as I get older, I recognise I need to address with both friends and family. I'm also tempted to blog more on 'me', but I lack the courage.

  5. I didn't really know just how revealing this blog was going to be when I started it. I know now, all right, 74 posts on!
    I'd recommend writing about the things most personal to you, H.P. It's a cliché, but it's the truth: it is cathartic. And for me it's actually the perfect way of talking to my friends and family about the things I've avoided talking about before. It might be indirect, but it's sparked some conversations I'm very glad I've had.

  6. I hope you know how bloody ace you are. And I own a bravado shield too, and yes, they are pretty heavy. xxx

  7. I've a daughter with PWS. She's 27 now. I know exactly where you're at... And as for the Conchords, they're just the best!!

  8. This blog is the best read on the net. It's always moving and thought-provoking, honest and touching. I've had something in my eye on more than one occasion.

    Your struggle has become our struggle, and we're with you every step of the way.