Aaaand...back to normal. Sort of.

Right, I'm over it.

I'm reading the blog of a father whose little girl has schizophrenia (here).  I'm reading another blog, by a fantastic woman who is fostering children, some of whom have serious mental illnesses, (here).  Today, on my way home from an appointment, I popped into Sainsburys to pick up some new dummies for Jazzpiglet and to grab a magazine in hope that it would distract me this evening.  While I was queueing to pay, I realised the young girl of about nine years old who was standing with her father in front of me, had a prosthetic arm.  This little girl was bright, smiling, talking to the cashier, making jokes.

These people show strength in the face of huge challenges.  I know that I too, show strength, in my own insignificant little way, but it's not in any way comparable to the struggles that these inspirational people face every day.

I am a lucky person.  My health isn't great, but I don't have a terminal illness, I have all of my limbs, I can walk, I can ride a bike (sometimes, when my joints aren't seized up, obviously!), I can go out for an evening and can manage to stand at the bar for a while if there aren't seats available...I'm pretty ok.

My own family life is a little chaotic, I didn't have a great childhood...but my new family, my fiance's family, are amazing.  They're supportive, caring, kind and generous people and I know that I can call my future mother-in-law just for a lighthearted chat or to ask for babysitting assistance.  We do things together as a family, we cook dinner for each other (siblings included), Drew's brother's girlfriend is so much my best friend that she's actually going to be my maid of honour...lucky.  Very very lucky.

I'm at the tail end of going through a shitty divorce...but I'm getting married to the best person in the world next year.  I wasted four years of my life on an asshole...but all of my experiences have made me who I am today, and now I've finally got it together with Drew, the cliched 'love of my life'.

My kids are great.  Heather's a total diva, Charlie is aggressive and highly reactive, Jasper is the loudest baby in the whole world, but they're good kids.  I have a relatively easy time with them...sure, they push boundaries sometimes (they wouldn't be normal if they didn't), but for the most part they're spectacularly well behaved, polite, quirky, funny little munchkins.

There's plenty in my life for me to be thankful for.  I know that mental illness isn't logical; I am aware that depression doesn't listen to "but you should be happy" arguments...but knowing, and reminding myself, of how lucky I am to finally have a stable existence filled with wonderful people, it definitely helps.