Turns out I can be incredibly sneaky when I need to be. Case in point, I booked a holiday 4 weeks ago as a surprise to my husband and managed to keep my gob firmly shut until we were in the car on the way to the airport. Get in.
Since I started speaking openly and writing about my anxiety and CBT, people, who I both know and don’t, have started asking me about it. After months of covering up how terrible it had got, I’ve become a CBT champion among friends and the online community I’ve carved out for myself. It’s both baffling and an extreme compliment. And something I’m still getting my head around.
You know that old saying, you don’t what you’ve got till it’s gone – and if you read that without singing it, Joni Mitchell style, who even are you?! – well, that’s true for me and my former work wife and bestie. I mean she’s still a bestie but we no longer work together. And that’s a bloody travesty!
Mudeford has an extremely tight hold of my heart. It’s where we holidayed as kids, working our way from Caravan to chalet as we got older and our parents saved more pennies. It’s my favourite place in the UK and that’s why, when my mum and I decided to take a 3-day break, it was the first place we thought of.
I picked up three new sundresses this year, all IBS-belly friendly, and I’ve realised they fall into three categories. The sophisticated boho dream, the cutesy floral number and the voluminous polka dot childlike one. That wasn’t how they were categorised on ASOS but I feel is an accurate description. Hear me out on what they have in common and why I’m living in them.
CBT without doubt, has changed my life. That may sound like a bold claim, but I’m telling you, it has. While I wish I’d done it a long time ago, I do believe everything happens for a reason and this came at the right time for me.
I’ve written a list of all the little things that bring me moments of joy throughout the day. Each moment puts a smile on my face and a spring in my step, and I am here for that.
A weird thing has happened over the past three weeks, I’ve completely forgotten about my IBS. It wasn’t until my therapist asked me how it had been at my latest session, that I realised I haven’t had an IBS flare once over the past three weeks. Shit.
Questions that were running through our mind before heading to Portmeirion during our mini break… Could it really be that picture perfect? Are the houses really painted glorious pastel colours? Do people actually live there? Do we have to pay to get in to this village?
This is the first in a new series I want to try. It’s capturing those embarrassing yet hilarious moments I experience with my IBS. Ones I can look back on and go, oh shit, yeah that happened. Maybe you can relate. Maybe you think, christ, she needs to get her life in order. Maybe you just fancy a laugh at my expense. I’ll take any of the above, I’m not fussy.