Mermaids, Moon Magic and Powers for Change

Since my health has thrown me the latest curveball, I'm finding that I'm managing to do lots of research and planning but writing  my actual novel is proving a little trickier. My usual routine has been scuppered by a change in meds, energy levels and function although sheer bloody-mindedness is keeping me going. The summer holidays are also upon us so my boys are here full time - they are loving these lazy days! Luckily this year my boys seem more interested in hanging out with friends so I'm not having to run a summer camp! Back in the day, summer was a mass of painting, baking, gardening, day trips, picnics etc but I'm feeling a little redundant at the moment while they do their own thing. No complaints yet though - I've insisted that I'm dragging them out somewhere every few days so I will hopefully get to see them!
This summer, my biggest challenge is to develop confidence in my powerchair and lessen my complete paranoia about having to use one along with my ridiculous fixation on the response I may get from others. I bought the thing weeks ago and apart from my big adventure to London and back, it has been out of use ever since. I'm nervous of travelling to and from places and access while I'm visiting new places - I can give myself twenty barriers to progress if I really think about it. I'm being very obstructive to my journey to freedom. But each couple of days I'm determined to go out in it with someone with me so I get over this sticky patch.
It's going quite well so far. Yesterday, I managed to tootle in my power chair up to a local deli for afternoon tea with my dear friend (who stopped me from bailing at the last minute). While a nervous wreck and powered purely by caffeine and adrenalin throughout the whole experience, I feel so much lighter today; in fact quite optimistic now I know I'm becoming independent once more. It's a huge thing adapting to using a chair - I've done it once with a manual chair and a scooter at one time, yet here I am again! But this time, using the power chair means I'm in charge a little more and less reliant on the kindness of my crew to push me about!
So yes - big day yesterday!
I'm getting up each morning to this amazing sunshine we're having at the moment and having to adapt my day a little to work round the heat so that I don't melt or crash!
I get up early and have a cuppa in the garden to connect with nature and my kitty cats, do any jobs I need to do then get on with my research and writing.
I'm currently researching from two books:

The History of Magic by Kurt Seligmann (1948) for a little background in to witchcraft and sea magic generally:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/History-Magic-Kurt-Seligmann/dp/0965084639/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532606290&sr=1-1&keywords=history+of+magic+kurt+seligmann

and then just this week I'm reading Mermaid Magic by Lucy Cavendish and Serene Conneeley (2011) which is giving me some real insight in to sea magic and all things mermaid.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mermaid-Magic-Connecting-Energy-Healing/dp/0987050532

I'd recommend both books for anyone interested in these areas.

My process at the moment is very much note-taking and planning as my original ideas for certain characters are changing. One character's motives are slightly woolly and through research I'm starting to wonder if the dark elements of sea magic may be best developed by her. I'm really exciting by this latest idea - drawn from my studying around medieval witchcraft. This character could be the pinnacle that a lot will depend on so I'm playing around with that at the moment. Writing is a little like steering a runaway train as it goes where it wants to go but you just have to try and keep it on track!

My house is steadily being filled with prompts for writing - shells, pebbles and a few sea magic instruments to help me on my way. I find that I'm quite a kinaesthetic learner at the moment and need to work with physical prompts when writing. Whether that's just meds, the heat or me I have no idea. Sea music helps too - I'm listening to a lot to oceanic Romantic music by Brahms. A  trip to the seaside is also on the cards so I can get my toes in the sand and surf. 

Right, I'd best get on - it would seem the blood moon and eclipse are making me very impatient for change! I needed a good shove and it's the eve of the eclipse which apparently means that powers for change are bubbling all around me!

Trains and Tribulations: Travelling Out of Your Comfort Zone

Last weekend, I was invited down to celebrate a significant birthday with one of my dearest friends who lives in London. I have done this journey from South Yorkshire many times but on this occasion, something was different. I was taking myself down there in my new power chair, a recent addition to my tools that keep me moving. I was petrified. As I don't travel alone these days, my children were travelling with me and we started the booking process while every inch of my body quivered..
After booking a ticket using my disabled railcard (a third off your journey!) I was directed to another department to ensure my access arrangements were in place. I was travelling with East Midland Trains. It felt like a military operation but I was kept calm by the incredible woman at the other end of the phone in Assistance and Accessibility who repeatedly put me at my ease every time I told her it might be easier to stay at home.
'When you've done it once, it'll be easy. Put your trust in us,' she promised.
I was talked through each stop and transfer with the placement of staff and ramps on and off every  train we travelled on. I was incredibly grateful for the service in place and actually just the time that was spent ensuring I was ready to travel.
Their support offered is outlined below.

The help we can give

To make your journey trouble-free, we can provide:

• help to plan your journey, including information about all train services on all train services around the UK
• information about onward modes of transport
• the most appropriate tickets for your journey, including any relevant discounts
• help to book the most appropriate seats on the trains
• bookings for help to get on and off trains (including the use of station wheelchairs)
• assistance with your luggage
• arrangements to help transfer between different train services

I was then emailed an itinerary of every step of the journey there and back. I knew I was in safe hands but I felt terrified.

Booking an accessible cab in Rotherham was a bit of a drama. I found my local EuroCabs office, who promise:

We have a fleet of 5, 6 and 7 seater vehicles which are all wheelchair accessible and adapted to comply with local authority guidelines and safety regulations. 

Again, I was put at my ease and was able to book my journeys to and from the station - for future reference I was recommended to book in advance as they have limited availability at peak times.
The minibus arrived and my chair was secured in place while there was seating for my children.
On arrival at the station, we were escorted to the platform and when our train arrived, ramps were placed for me to drive on to the train. I'd never done this before, but to the encouragement of the train staff I had a go, did a wheelie and nearly tipped back in to the arms of the poor attendant!
'Mum, I'll take care of the chair next time,' my mortified fourteen year old whispered.
So that was the plan. My eldest son would disengage the motor of my powerchair to wheel it on and off the train while I walked down the ramp on my sticks each time. Every day's a school day! Thankfully, the rest of my ramp encounters went without a hitch!
We had three changes in all which were handled by East Midland staff brilliantly. They made us feel at ease each step of the way.

I even managed to write some notes and decide on a new plot point for my latest novel - a huge fishing net tangle of characters and timelines would best describe the state of my newest writing at the moment, but I spent time on that train clearing my head and clarifying a key issue for my story. Just sitting at a train window watching the world go by was incredibly cleansing. I was able to think about my characters and be open to new ideas popping in to my head as I let myself people watch and scribble notes about the goings on around me. Readers of my next novel can expect a train journey and some interesting interactions between Marianne and the travellers she meets along the way. Writing on a train is one of my favourite things to do and I'd really missed it. It was good to be back.

If I'm honest, it was all I could do, on occasion, to stop myself screaming and getting a cab home but I was so proud of myself and my eldest son for getting there and back in one piece.
Stepping outside of one's comfort zone, particularly when you have a chronic illness feels nigh on impossible, but with the correct amount of support and kindness, travel is possible after all.

With firm nudges from loved ones and the accessibility arrangements put in place to improve our day to day living, I was able to visit my lovely friend and be a part of her incredible birthday celebrations.

I'm now planning my next trip. In the words of Arthur Daley of Minder fame:
'The world's my lobster!'

Rollercoasters and Rainbows: A Writer in Recovery

It has been twelve months since my last creative writing session. In fact, over the last two years, promotion of my first two novels and development of my third novel have been sadly neglected.

After leaving my much loved teaching profession two years ago and taking early retirement due to my creaky back giving up the ghost, I had found it difficult to write very much at all. My creative muscle had turned off and the mere opening of the latest draft of my new novel would leave me staring at the screen, writing a few sentences before deleting them again over the space of a day. This was interspersed by trips to the kettle and feeding children or cats and lying down on the sofa with a book and invariably falling asleep thanks to a heady cocktail of prescription painkillers.

I soon started climbing the walls. There are only so many trips out for soya lattes anyone can manage before going slightly bonkers and after a year I knew I had to do something else.

In timely fashion, I did indeed find another outlet for my writing which resulted in my working for Northern Exposure for the best part of a year. This was spent in the company of Rachel Brown, an unstoppable force in indie music promotion right now, and before I knew it I was writing reviews, interviewing bands and attending gigs when I was able to for the best part of a year. We had a fabulous time - I absolutely loved it. An incredible time I will always treasure.

What I kept forgetting about though was pacing myself. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to reading the signs that I'm about to crash and so over the year I did crash rather regularly and rather spectacularly until I realised my health was again taking a bit of a nose dive.

Living with chronic pain and chronic fatigue is a bit like that. People often find they can manage a certain level of activity for so long and then will try to push a little harder, attempting to claw back a little of the life they had before they became ill. I hear this all the time and yet was surprised when it happened to me. I thought I'd got this pacing lark sussed. 

My physio could see right through my act and was quick to explain I was just riding a rollercoaster which involved pushing myself, crashing, then pacing, pushing myself, crashing then pacing. We discussed my non-negotiables (family, friends, my cats, writing and music) and built those around me as my safety net. It may sound a little out there, but I imagined them as the colours of a rainbow around me which I knew I could turn to in differing degrees for different reasons, hour by hour. Chronic pain and chronic fatigue sometimes reduces you to a minute by minute stretch of 'This too will pass' and anyone who's experienced it will know, that phrase can be a life saver. After our final session six months ago, as I promised I'd learned my lesson, I went home determined to relax more, draw on the resources available to me and accept what my life now was.

Yeah, right. I was quite well behaved for the first few weeks but the cycle started again. It was never going to end well. I ended up in A&E with a suspected heart attack and the monster crash which inevitably followed. After a stern dressing down from my long-suffering doctor, I was sent home with a recipe for recovery.

And so, I am determined to focus down once more. Write when I can, rest when I can, sell and promote my books and accept where I am in each moment. All the motivational quotes such as: 'It is what it is' and ''Don't look backwards, you're not going that way' are carved on the inside of my skull for reference purposes.

So here is my new regime. Of sorts. When I can't write, when my imagination presses pause as often happens with the meds I'm on right now, I read. And when I can't read, I sleep. In between times I have the best friends in the world who pop by for coffee and cake (or a cheeky glass of fizzy) or take me out for that soya latte or lunch (or a cheeky glass of fizzy!)

But all is well - I may just be reading through the draft of my third novel so far but I'm on the right track I hope.

I don't think I'll ever really learn how to pace myself. But by focusing on writing from home once more I hope novel three will be well on the way again soon! 24,000 words down and counting!

Back to Business...

Such a lot has been happening recently, I don't know where to start.

My last post shared the writing of a new novel which has taken me two years to write. I finally got through it two weeks ago and feel it is finally where I need it to be.

In that time I have also managed to claw my way back to teaching full time after recovering from a rather major operation. The last four years in fact have seen me move from walking with sticks and being medicated up to my ears to walking and weening myself off a veritable cocktail of icky medicines. Yay for me.

Anyway, back to business. I now work in a fab school as a SENDCo and Music Co. I get to spend my days with little people creating stories, music, art and building bright little buttons. Each bright in their own uniqueness.  In my spare time, I still write everyday and my second novel is currently being reviewed by a teeny team of smalls who are going to help me polish it before it's sent off for publication.

The Pixie Plot (working title but I think it's sticking) is a lot darker than Driftwood but despite my belief that it would target an older audience, I have a nine year old reading it who isn't too terrified ... although she does happen to love all things dark and magical (my dream audience really).

I vow to write on here regularly now I've managed to unlock my blog (long story) and keep everyone posted about a few exciting projects I'm involved in at the moment - a selection of workshopping, dancing, performance and a foray in to bookselling (if I'm brave enough).
And it's almost Summer. It's all good :)

NaNoWriMo 2014 begins!

Mood - positive :)
Word Count: 1650

Well, I have signed up to NaNoWriMo once more and as it served me well in 2011 with a first draft of Driftwood & Amethyst, my first children's novel, I have taken the plunge again. I try to write most days to be fair, yet this last two months have been decidedly sketchy in the writing department and I knew something had to give. New work commitments, a school change or two (while on the supply wagon) and the adoption of two rather giddy puppies have done nothing to help my already full and happy existence - no complaints though! I have been slowly developing my second children's novel since 2012 - two years and I'm still only half way through a rather woolly first draft - and need a kick up the proverbial.

I've never involved myself in writing groups but have heard this can be beneficial - not knowing many writers myself, I rely on friends' children to read my material then offer feedback which is always brutally honest (!) but I'm now starting to yearn for adult feedback and also just be able to kick back with a few writers who can appreciate the need to stay in and happily write late in to the night. Not quite a hermit yet, but not far off!

Sheffield Uni are hosting the NaNoWriMo meets this month and so I'll be popping off there shortly to see what's going on there.

Wish me luck - any fellow South Yorkshire NaNoWriMo participants going? I may see you there :)

We're Growing a Zoo!

After six months of my two boys researching dog breeds, pestering for a dog, researching dog behaviours, pleading for a dog, researching dog tricks, pestering and pleading for a dog, I finally took them to Rotherham Rescue Centre to look at a few. My intention was purely to show them how big the labradors/irish wolfhounds/alsations were and to demonstrate how hard they would be to walk and look after. I had every intention of getting a dog of some description over the next few weeks, but something a little more manageable than the ones they'd seen bounding along the beaches during our recent holiday in Wales.
That was Monday.

We entered a Bedlam for dogs. Dogs of every size and shape barked and snarled, whimpered and whined as we were shown around the kennels. I can't imagine how the volunteers can bear the sadness in those animals' eyes. They are amazing people who tirelessly show up to feed them, walk them, play with them and retrain some of the most traumatised week after week.
Some were so frightened of humans after their early experiences, we couldn't go near them as they expected us to hurt them and snarled, their bodies rigid. But some just jumped up to lick the bars and have their tummies tickled by the volunteers they knew and trusted.
There were three old dogs, mongrels I think they were, who I could have taken home then and there. Poor things. But many of them are so used to the routine of regular walks and meal times that they are settled there. It seems strange, but a few would find it difficult to leave the kindness of their carers now.

 The boys were undeterred by the noise and the stories .They just couldn't choose between them.

"The dog will choose us, Mum," Max reminded me as we walked round again.

A little further on,  two little scruffy white mongrels cowered in the corner of a huge cage. They were struggling with this environment after being separated from their owner only a few days before. After a little chat through the bars, my boys asked to go in to the cage to give them a cuddle.
"Okay," I said, "but just for a minute."
As they sat down to stroke them, one jumped on Max's knee and sat down, while the other curled up on Harry's knee and lay her head on his arm.
"Which one would you want?" the volunteer asked.
The million dollar question. Before I could answer, Harry was on to it.
"They're only little, Mum," Harry whispered. "They'd be just like having one dog."
With dog eyes and boy eyes pleading upwards, I was powerless.
A few hours later, that same day, Bella and Jasper were ours. They came with quite the collection of dog beds, blankets, toys and bowls - all from a doting owner who just couldn't take care of them any more.

While our two cats are taking a little adjustment, our rabbit seems unphased by her new friends. These two little pooches are quickly becoming a part of the family.
That first night, they cried a little but at 2.30am they settled. I left them alone after checking twice and that seemed to do the trick.
The second night they slept through and, fingers crossed, they seem to be used to us now.
We have negotiated a corner of the settee where they curl up together on a white wool blanket and would quite happily sit there in betweeen games with the boys and their friends.

We are smitten. There are many aspects to owning dogs that I'm still adjusting to myself - I've set up a lunchtime dog walker for the days I'm working and I'm having to rethink a few days out we had planned to now accommodate them - but I do know we are very lucky that these two little pups chose us.

Musical Stories ...

The Family Festival workshops as part of Grimm and Co's Summer programme went really well - many children enjoyed a variety of activities designed to inspire storymaking and storytelling. We had great fun during my sessions, creating stories which evoked a walk through an enchanted forest and creatures they met along the way - some imaginative and truly inspiring young people took part in and then performed their musical stories to each other during these informal, fun sessions.

 

We started by looking through a selection of images all of forests, hidden buildings in woodland settings  and creatures - woodland and fantastical. Using a selection of instruments, the storymakers created sounds to evoke elements of their stories, using percussion, guitar and vocal percussion in some instances too. 

 

It is so refreshing to allow students to follow their own train of thought, to allow them to work in their own way without the constraints of a particular learning intention or success criteria and the fear of whether or not they are moving forward quickly enough .
Often, it is equally important to allow students the space to be inspired, to nurture their creativity and celebrate their successes regardless of whether or not a list can be ticked or a target can be highlighted on a given spreadsheet which promises the perfect 'level 4'or 'level 5' when complete.

That is why places like Grimm and Co, Inspire Rotherham et al are so important. Teachers' workloads are such that many opportunities for this kind of learning are currently being squeezed. I don't for one minute believe that the current education system's incarnation can or will continue, but until children are once more afforded a more holistic, creative curriculum, the opportunities offered to our young people by charities and community groups such as Grimm and Co are invaluable.

Story Making Workshops at Rotherham Family Festival 2014

I am sometimes asked to run children's writing and story making workshops which is something I relish and would like to do more and more of.  I  will run  three sessions during Rotherham's Family Festival taking children through a story-making process where we use the spoken word and musical instruments to develop magical stories through music. I can't wait to see what our creative young story makers come up with!

As a teacher, my two favourite subjects are Literacy and Music so you can imagine my excitement when asked to become involved in this project. Preparations are underway for this exciting venture and the Writers' Attic is being prepared as I write.

Rotherham's Family Festival is being run by Grimm and Co, part of Inspire Rotherham and Ministry of Stories to offer our local children free access to a range of story making workshops over the week beginning 4th August 2014.  The program is as follows:

I'll be waiting in the Writer's Attic in Rotherham during the afternoon of Wednesday 6th August for any young story makers wishing to take part. We will create a number of stories together and will endeavour to share them  after the event :)

Changing Identity - Pen Names and More

Driftwood and Amethyst was written over a two year period when I lived a very different life. Without washing my laundry, I was ill, I was someone's wife and I did my best to make a difficult situation better. I failed.Not on my own, I'll give myself that. But it necessitated a huge change for me, one which over the last three years has resulted in a very different life.
I made the decision last year to go back to my maiden name. Not a decision I took lightly, as I have two boys who carry their father's name - regardless of our relationship or should I say lack of it - and I wanted to make sure this did not cause any undue distress. But the boys were very generous and actually were instrumental in helping me revert back to who I wanted to be.
It may only seem a name to anyone reading, but giving up my name was difficult in the first place and done only at the express wish of my partner-to-be who in time lost the right to have a say.
I have just gone through a rather laborious process of changing my author name to match my maiden name and I feel so light as a result. My books are being reprinted as are all the links to my writing name - future novels will have the same name as will my business and business links as my future workshops and works evolve.

The publishing company have been amazing and were able to keep costs to a minimum. As a self published writer, this is such a huge help and I know how much better I feel as a result of having the support of the company (Xlibris) running alongside me.

My next book, The Faerie Plot, an equally dark children's story may be half written, but just the change and joining up of the dots here has allowed me to refocus and work daily on this first draft with a view to having a draft to send to the editor by the end of the summer holidays. Writing is such a reward in itself yet I feel so lucky to be able to make this change and ensure that all my work can be tied together in my own name.

A pen name is a huge part of a writer's identity.I know great writers who have a completely different name for different genres within which they write, yet for me I know I've made the right choice. 

A person's a person, no matter how small . . .

Last week was one of the busiest I have had in a very long time. I know this is subjective - as people can feel all kinds of busy with varying demands upon them. But I'm sure, in its own way,  my 'busy' was very busy last week. I'm still recovering!

After working for two terms in a local primary school, the end of term madness had kicked in. Students had parties and sports days, reports went home, parents meetings and training sessions continued, teacher assessments and test results  were published while teachers moved - lock, stock and barrel - to new classrooms. Children carted home folders of work and carrier bags full of christmas cards and old newsletters while stock cupboards (some of which had not been spring cleaned in a number of years) were emptied in to endless binliners. Chaos ensued. Furniture removal companies have nothing on a bunch of teaching staff who have a finite number of hours to get a job done. We're not talking displays, labels, planning, classroom organisation, teaching resources or motivational posters (all made by theirs truly) as that comes  later during the summer break. This was just the end-of-year loose ends, furniture shifting and stockroom moving shinannigans.

As school staff tend to be up for most challenges, this bunch just got on with it. We were our own cheerleaders. We kept our spirits up while becoming more and more dishevelled. Even the new headteacher rolled his usually pristine sleeves up. And so we battled on, full of positive pushes to keep fighting the fight.
Thick with dust and sneezing rather spectacularly, one staff member carrying furniture cursed her choice of stacked mules. Outside, the still, sticky heat made the children dozy and even the ever popular loomband making was too much effort. A few hard liners still attempted football with faces shining red until supervisors stopped their sticky fun.
As is the way with all moving days, domestic or business, suddenly it all seems to get to a point of no return. We had been at it for hours, days some of us. The place was in turmoil. Sticky and grimy, sense of humour failure was rife and even the most docile of teachers were getting a little bit snippety. Yet, while our cheerleading may have become quieter, we were still pushing through. We waved the children off at 3.15 wishing them safe and happy holidays. Then the real work began.

I had just trekked what felt like a good half mile with 90 exercise books - an unwelcome delivery to my old class's next teacher who I found surrounded by piles of library books, story books, tatty atlases and dictionaries - when I rested against a nearby windowsill. Either I'm getting older, or fatter, or both, but I'm sure I had more stamina back in the day.

The deputy head, her usually tidy demeanour a little frayed round the edges, strode down the corridor towards me cradling an A4 paper box and we smiled at each other wearily. She tipped the lid off .
"It's still alive," she smiled. Looking up at us from deep inside was the most beautiful housemartin, all irredescent greens and blues, its little head cocked to one side and its wings still.

"What do we do?" she asked. "I'm no good with birds."

It transpired that after saving this tiny creature from an almost certain lunch date with a cat, our Deputy, who was 'no good with birds', had regularly checked on the poor thing through the day. The bird had sat quite happily in her stock cupboard, in said box although it had been expected to keel over at some point during the day. However, now that it was perky and almost certainly not on its last legs, we needed to do something.

My suggestion was to give it to my dad who is, by his own admission, a bit of a twitcher and knows alot about dying birds after a life time of saving them from the jaws of various family cats.
The caretaker, himself also a bit of a BirdMan, suggested we take her to the highest point we could find. He shared with us that housemartins need to take off from up high so they can fly with the wind beneath their wings. I'll save you the Bette Midler tribute that ensued. We were a little amused though.

It's safe to say I've never been on the school roof before. Climbing a number of rickety steps  to the loft then up to the roof, the now five strong group trooped their way up, up, up. I  had a vision of Brian Blessed cheering me on as my vertigo kicked in.

Up on that roof, the bird was lifted up on to a cable and without a moment's hesitation, off she flew, the wind catching her and lifting her away. She was gone so quickly, some of us even missed the moment she left us and we scanned the horizon desperate for a glimpse of our tiny mascot.

On that roof, we all quietly stood. Away from the chaos of the corridors and the end of term turmoil, we had saved a life.

And it felt good.

However busy, however important our Things to Do list might be, it is always crucial to keep an eye on the bigger picture. The people we work with, the lives we come across will always benefit from another's kindness.

In the words of one of the greats, I'll leave you with this last thought:

Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
nothing is going to get better. It's not.

So be sure when you step, Step with care and great tact.
And remember that life's A Great Balancing Act.
                                                               Dr. Seuss.

What a difference a year makes ...

I wrote this in 2013, at a time I had just started working again after a long illness. I remember how hard it was back then and count my blessings now. Every day.

There is nothing you can count on in this life except change. (Said by someone else, somewhere else, sometime long long ago.)

Many years ago my life changed. I hadn't asked for change yet it came.
Walking across a road at twelve years old, my life stopped for a few seconds, then my old life stopped forever.  Life would never be the same again.

Eleven years ago my life changed. I hadn't asked for change. Yet, again, it came.
Pregnant with my first child, I was hopeful and giddy. Life would never be the same again.

Then nine years ago my life changed once more.
As my second child grew inside me, my bones cracked and fractured as I fought to keep my life the same. Cautious, yet buoyant with a healthy new baby boy,  life could never be the same again.

Six years ago change came once more.
But without the rain, there would be no rainbows someone had told me.
I was unsure at the time what that meant. I know now.

When my illness struck, my life changed.
On stronger days, family and friends would take me out in a wheelchair with my two boys as life buzzed along without me. I  had become merely an observer.  Things had to change. Ihad to make that change. Baby step by baby step, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day.

Reducing medication I had taken for such a long time was a mixed experience as the withdrawal and anxiety clawed at me. Yet, the awakening I felt with every step I took closer to being drug-free was worth so much more than any relief I gained from lapsing and taking another yet pill.

The numbing of the pain had numbed the experience of all life: emotions, highs and lows. I had coped with an illness and a half life by burying myself within a cocoon of tramadol, fentanyl, codeine . . . whichever prescription I'd been trying.  Though the consequences of long term pain relief outweighed any pain relief benefits I had been promised.

Finally, I awoke from my opiate-riddled doze. And it was my sheer bloodymindedness and the unwavering support of Team Kate who stuck by me regardless of how hopeless it must have sometimes seemed.

As I steadily improved, I found work again, and with that my financial independence. I was back in the game.

And all this time, I wrote. I wrote stories, made notes from great novels I read, jotted down comments I'd overhear as I drank coffee in local cafes. Sometimes ideas came from the collection of opiate-induced dreams I woke from, sleepy hands reaching for the notepad and pencil in the darkness. Deciphering my scrawl, however,  was another matter . . .

Some days I'd sit in front of the screen wondering where to start, afraid to write. Afraid to write nothing of substance. Afraid to write nothing of substance and spend a month doing it.
But I knew I would always write. I would always try. Because change happens and with change good things can come. Even on my worst days the glimmer of hope for better things was always shimmering somewhere, just beyond the darkness.

I still teach from school to school and write every day, my stories and imaginings driving me on to write once the boys are in bed. Sometimes I write and the next day I shudder at the sheer awfulness of my clumsy sentences, yet other days I write and on a second reading know there may be something there.

I know I will always write, just as I know I will always teach in one form or another. I will always try. Because as change happens, good things can come.

Without the weight of painkillers, negativity and exhaustion, I can now focus on my future. Rather than frantically putting out the fires of my daily life, blinded by the smoke and drama, I can look forward and plan my next steps when I find myself on a day when my health, optimism and courage collide.

But maybe that is what that leap of faith is. Maybe we make leaps of faith every day on our brave days: - simply writing down ideas or cobbling a paragraph together; taking less medication or stepping out from the cocoon of the house or the life/relationship you have wrapped around you fearful of feeling the cold.

Courage can be the tiniest steps towards better things, embracing change and knowing that with hope, something better is possible.