Crash and Burn

Despite an utterly delightful weekend in the South of my lovely island, amongst the people I adore, yesterday I hit a wall.

A big one. A tall one. Like, right-up-to-the-sky tall.

With Very Big Bricks and Spiky Things on top.

The wall has been slowly building for awhile, as those of you who read this blog regularly will know. Since having my gorgeous poppet, I feel like I've been actually "well" for, oh, maybe a day or two in eight months.

I've had multiple infections, bronchitis, the flu, complications from minor surgery, migraines and two bouts of glandular fever. I've struggled to maintain my weight and have become chronically overtired. 

I was trying to be everything to everyone and, eventually, my poor little body just went: "Stop! Seriously! What the fish fingers are you doing to me, you silly numpty? Right, now, to teach you a lesson, I am going to build a very high, spiky wall. Take that!"

And yesterday I hit that wall. 

Like Boom.

Thankfully, Tiger's Daddy Bear was there to scrape me back up again and look after my precious thing while I worked out how to get my mojo back.

And now, after a day in bed, I can safely say I haven't felt better in a long time.

It took me asking for help. It took me swallowing my pride. It took me ceasing to argue and fight and battle. It took me admitting to Tiger's Daddy that I just couldn't do this right now.

I can see some gaps between the bricks in the wall now. I reckon if I give it a gentle little kick I might be able to knock some of it over.

I might be able to see the sun again.

And go back to doing some awesomesauce playing with my Tiger. Because that's all I really want to do.

Thank you, Tiger's Daddy Bear, for being there. Thank you, Tiger, for - always - being so lovely.

~ Love, Miss Cackle x