My best day ever.

Don’t kid yourself and don’t let anyone kid you either. Parenthood is one the hardest roles you’ll ever undertake in your life. Don’t be fooled by the images you see on social media. The cute chubby cheeks, the gorgeous outfits (matching, or not, depending on your preference), the delightful smiles, the massive hugs….they are a snapshot, I repeat, a momentary snapshot, a second of a sometimes relentless, gruelling 24 hours, where everyday feels like Groundhog Day. Wake, get the children sorted, get to work, come home, sort out the children, eventually they are in bed, go to sleep. Wake up. Repeat.

When they are tiny, your life revolves around feeding, nap times, nappy changes, feeding, nap times, nappy changes – and that’s it!! I was having a conversation with some Mum friends, and we were talking about how no one was honest enough at the time when our children were babies- that this was hard!!! We didn’t know each other at that time. But we all had our own stories of the some of the challenges we went through. A common running theme, our children thought that sleep was ‘optional’. Sleeping through the night was a non-event. And if you were type of person that needed sleep….it was physically and mentally torturous.

I remember cutting myself off people who’s children slept. I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t want to hear how their child slept through the night at the age of 6 weeks, had no trouble teething, how they had no trouble breast feeding….

For my own sanity- I had to cut those lucky, smug, mothers out of my life.

The struggle was real.

But I had snapshots too – of incredible joy, the cuddles, the first words, the way their eyes would light up when they saw me…yes, those moments carry you through the times that were ‘a challenge’.

Yesterday though, I had a day that was heavenly. A day straight from a Disney film, where I was Julie Andrews, the idyllic mum, and the girls were the idyllic children. Bluebirds were singing when I walked and the only thing that the girls didn’t do was refer to me as ‘Mother’.

I was not a referee or a barrister trying to solve disputes, ‘Milud, I do believe your sister had that toy first, so you shouldn’t have grabbed it from her.’ I was not a detective trying to solve crimes of – who left this mess? Where has such and such gone? Simultaneously being good cop and bad cop. I wasn’t telling anyone to stop moaning or whining because that’s just the way things were.

It was absolutely ‘the best day ever’! We went to the supermarket and the girls helped me to scan and put all the shopping away. We came home, had lunch and read books together. Actually listening, no one arguing about who will read first, who will sit next to Mummy, who can’t see the pictures properly – none of that. I then made dinner, then after that we played Ludo, snakes and ladders and then a game of junior bingo. We laughed, no one cried because they lost, no one accused anyone of cheating, no one was grumpy.

It was the best day ever.

Why am I blogging about it? Because my eldest is 7 and a half – and this has never happened!!!! There has never been a day, where at some point during the day, I haven’t lost my ….. (you can decide what should go in the gap yourself).

For the first time in my life, I was a smug mother. All I needed was a quaint apron and I then I would have looked the part of ‘perfect mother’. When the girls went to bed – without arguing might I add!!!!!! Accepting it was bedtime and that they were tired, might I add!!!! I called my Mum to share my news with her – Mum, you’ll never guess what????? She was suitably indulgent of me as well, knowing what a miracle it was.

Today I woke up warily, assuming that we’re going back to business as normal – that’s ok though. I’ll have had yesterday. In my memories, I’ll have yesterday to fall back on. And that’s what matters.

Anybody who can relate to me a tiny little bit, your day will come too. Hang in there. Each day is a challenge, I know, and then one day you will have a day where you think you’re in a dream.

Seems so silly to write about something that must seem like such a non-event to lots of you. But for me, yesterday, was definitely, my best day ever.



I don’t know if you’ve ever felt such rage, so much anger that every cell, every fibre, every tiny, miniscule part of your body feels as though it is on fire?  I don’t often feel like that.  I try not to get genuinely angry about many things.  Whilst I was teaching my class stories from Buddha once, I came across a story where Buddha was explaining to someone that holding onto anger was just like holding onto a burning piece of coal, nothing happens to anyone else, you are the one who is affected by the pain.  So, I try not to get angry, and if I do, it’s more akin to a fizzy bottle of lemonade that’s been shaken, I rant, then the anger subsides almost immediately.

Today’s anger will stay with me though.  Right now, I am not boiling over as I was earlier.  I’m not stomping around the house with horrific thoughts of revenge and vengeance.  This anger though – it’s mainly a feeling of ‘impotence’ – incredible helplessness.

I was reading an article in ‘The Guardian’, about a case in Afghanistan.  A case about a 35 year old man, who had strangled his wife to death.  Let me share with you, the bare bones of this case.

The ‘wife’ was a 9 year old girl.

Her father sold her to settle a debt of approximately £10,000 that he owed to the 35 year old man.

She was sold 2 years ago,  when she was 7 years old.

When I read this, I wanted to vomit.

How the hell is this world still operating?  Why are girls lives worth so little?  Although, marriage of girls under the age of 16 is illegal in Afghanistan, underage marriage is still commonplace and rife.

Everyday.  Every single day, I read something on Twitter, or one of the newspaper apps, that horrifies me.  I’m not desensitised to these crimes.  Children being torn from their parents arms – many, never to be reunited again.  The abuse that takes place at these detention centres.  Aid workers travelling to areas of the world in desperate need – to pay for sex with vulnerable people.  Not a single day goes past that I don’t despair at how humans behave towards each other.

One simple solution is this – I stop reading the news/newspaper apps.  I stop watching the news; interestingly, my youngest who is only 5, was watching the news with me last week and asked, ‘Mummy, is the news always about bad things?’

Honestly, it took me a while to think of a suitable reply.  I’m so used to the news only ever being about bad things, apart from a jokey, light-hearted section at the end.  Seeing the news through her fresh eyes – I understood what she meant.

Even though I’ve never watched it, I understand people’s obsession with TV shows such as ‘Love Island’.  There is so much dreariness, sadness, bloody bad news in the world, why wouldn’t people want to escape for an hour every night and watch the trials and tribulations of some singletons who have offered themselves up for the entertainment of others.

I get that.  I understand that.  That need to escape.

The problem is – so many millions of people around the world never get to escape.  They are trapped.  They are cornered.  They are imprisoned.  They have no choices.

So, what can we do?  What can anyone do?  Every single place you look, every nation has their own set of problems to deal with.  My question is also, how messed up is the circumstances you live in, for you to rack up debts of £10,000, and sell your tiny daughter, like a piece of livestock, to a murderous, raping paedophile?

The spiritualists out there would tell you not to judge, don’t get angry – you’ll only hurt yourself – but what can be done?

My anger is directed at the people in charge of the world.  Yes I’ll say it – mainly men.  It is predominantly men, who are in charge of many areas of the world, who have no value for life – money and power is all that they care about.  Money, to do what?  Power, to do what?  Corrupt.  Desecrate.  Murder.  Destroy.  Because the way I see it, no good is happening for many millions of ordinary people in the world.

Is this anger, is this rage futile?  Probably.  Hence the feeling of helplessness.  What can I do?  Blog?  A handful of people might read it, many millions won’t.  And so what?

All I can think is that eventually something has to change.  Things have got to get better.  As lame as that sounds.  Surely?  Surely these types of atrocities against children have to stop? People have to do better?

I don’t know….

Time to live

It is the first day of my summer holidays, and I’m delighted.  I had a lie-in. Woke up feeling relaxed.  It was finally here.  The day that I’d been waiting for, for weeks on end.  The hallowed first day of the summer holidays.

My husband has known me for over 10 years now, and he knows things about me, that I forget about myself.  How I need to drink water after a shower because I get dehydrated; when I’m feeling tense or drained, I need to get to the gym because the weights and the cardio make me feel a thousand times better……and he also knows how difficult I find the last day of the school year – even though my body may have been crying out for it for weeks…

I have just finished working with the most amazing group of children, (every year I feel like this about my class), and this year it’s such a wrench saying goodbye to them all over again.  The amount of love I’ve received from these children has been phenomenal, and I’ve absolutely adored them.  Everyday this week, I’ve come home, my arms laden with gifts and cards – some handmade, some bought – all equally precious, thanking me for what I have done for them. And I’ve been immensely grateful, some of the unexpected messages have touched my heart, and I’ve found it difficult to switch off.

Thinking about a group of children everyday, thinking about what they need – teaching isn’t just teaching – you’re counselling; you’re nursing; you’re caring about their aches, pains, cuts, dry skin, fall-outs with friends; home-life issues; sharing stories; knowing when to be sympathetic; knowing when to be humorous; knowing when they’re hungry or tired or grumpy or just too plain-old-hot.

So, I’ve been dragging myself out of bed everyday.  Giving myself pep-talks – come on, you can do this!  Three more get-ups; two more get-ups; one more get-up; final day.  And then I come home.  Drained.  Physically and emotionally.  And I realise that I won’t have to care for that set of children everyday anymore.  And it hits me – like a lead balloon – every year, without fail – and like a fool, I never see it coming.  I’ve been so preoccupied with my own tiredness and needing to get to the finishing line – I forget how sad I get when I come home, knowing that ‘that’s that’, for another year.

But it’s not just incredible, loving children that I’ve met this year.  I’ve encountered some phenomenal adults too.  Once in a while, you meet people who are absolute beacons of strength and positivity.  People who have suffered loss or illness in their lives, have had to make life changes, and haven’t let life beat them, get the better of them – instead they walk around, head held high, as an inspiration to others.

One person I met recently, was really successful in her job, running half marathons, working hard, playing hard, never resting – then her world came crashing down as she developed ‘chronic fatigue syndrome’.  From being a hyper, energetic, high performing individual – she described the pain she felt when she couldn’t even put one foot in front of another to walk.  In order to recuperate, she had to make substantial life choices – give up the job that she was doing, concentrate on healing her body and getting back to a position where she could function again.  She’s in a much better place now, but as it’s a condition that will never go away, she has to be careful not to overdo things, to know her limits, slow down before things spiral downwards for her.  Whenever she sees me though, she’s always greeting me with a massive hug and a kiss, making sure that I’m ok, telling me not to work too hard – and I feel humbled.

And then I met another incredible, phenomenal woman.  I only spoke with her for 7 minutes.  But I don’t think that i will ever forget her.

My friend introduced me to her, and explained that she wasn’t well.  I felt confused.  In front of me sat a petite woman, I guessed in her 40’s, with glowing mocha coloured skin, shiny black hair cut into a bob, sitting quietly and still – just an immense sense of stillness about her.  She opened her mouth and in a very matter of fact way explained that she was living with cancer.  Bewildered, I didn’t know what to say, but the fact that she was so open, made me feel that she wouldn’t mind if I asked her questions.  I was right, she didn’t mind.  She explained that she had breast cancer, but the doctors were not able to operate because the cancer had spread to her spine and ribs.  The doctors were incredible with their treatments, and she had carried out a lot of research to support their treatments with a massive lifestyle change and using alternative remedies too.  She explained how cancer thrived and was most comfortable in bodies with a lot of acid.  The acid was in processed foods and food that contained a lot of pesticides and growth hormones.  She was having a mainly vegan diet and only bought organic food to reduce the amount of acid in her body and make the conditions in her body, more alkaline based.

I asked if stress caused more acid in the body, she replied most definitely.  It’s so important to eat well and avoid stress as that helps your body so much.

If it was up to me, I would have carried on talking to her for as long as I could. But I had to leave.  But she and her words stayed with me.

Both women made me think that we – everyone – we have to slow down.  We must slow down.  We are a world of people pursuing money; having the nicest houses; having the nicest cars; having the best holidays; leading the high life – but does any of that matter if you don’t have your health?  Mental health?  Physical health?

I, for one, am going to slow down.  Love life.  Love people.  Not stress.  Not worry.  Eat well.  Be happy.

Life is too short, and on the flip of a coin, circumstances can change within a heartbeat.  So I will avoid those who enjoy drama, those who enjoy competition, those who revel in the misery of others, those who are there to make life harder for others.  And I pray that I meet more people, who inspire me, who remind me of what life is really about – people who make the world a much better place.


How often have you heard that a girl has been called bossy and a boy, displaying the same types of behaviour, being congratulated on ‘being a leader’?  I find it irksome.  Society wants males and females to behave in a certain way.  Girls should be meek, obedient, humble, invisible.  Boys should be loud, brash, confident, decisive, controlling.  And if either boys or girls break ‘type’ – then all hell breaks loose.

If a man defers to his female partner before making a decision, he is mocked for being ‘whipped’.  If a woman makes a decision without referring to her male partner (either at home or at work), then she is a ‘ball breaker’.  So how is that fair?  And how can equality ever be achieved if we have preconceived standards that each sex must adhere to?

In my early days of senior leadership, when I would analyse and study patterns in end of Key Stage 2 data, I’d always be focusing on those children who didn’t meet their end of year targets.  Who were they?  What had happened?  Had something happened in their home lives that affected their learning?  Who were the children who had made accelerated progress?  This is when I discovered a section of children, who I termed the ‘invisible’ children.  These were the well-behaved, quiet, meek children – often girls, who were always just under the radar.  They were missed because they never caused any problems, always got on with what they had to do – didn’t always get things right, but tried their best.  People pleasers.  Non-confrontational.  Heads down, getting on with things.  Invisible.

We teach our girls to be invisible but pleasing to the eye.  How often are girls praised for their behaviour and their presentation – be that handwriting, or what they are wearing?  They get attention by pleasing people.  So what happens?  Girls turn into women who need to please others.  You must please your prospective partners; please your employers; please your friends and families – even if that means that you are put under incredible stress, or pressure, or even in extreme circumstances, danger.

I can’t bear it.  We have not been put on this earth ‘to do the right thing’, which largely entails pleasing and serving others.  We always have to be mindful of other peoples’ feelings.  Being assertive comes at a cost – someone’s feelings might get hurt.  Well, so what?  What about your feelings getting hurt?  Who cares about that?

The other day, I was despairing at the state of my children’s bedrooms.  I’m not sure where the myth comes from about girls being tidier than boys, I can assure you it’s not true.  I finally resorted to a good, old fashioned bribery – a star chart!  The deal was, fill up your sticker chart for keeping your room tidy, and you earn £1 for your money box for completing the challenge.  My girls loved the idea of getting stickers, the money was just an added bonus, I was delighted that I wouldn’t need to nag them about tidying up.

I’d been explicitly clear about the rules.  Keep your bedroom and the back room tidy at the end of the day – you earn one star.  I would do my inspections at the end of each day.  Any mess – no stars.  A completed chart equals £1.

But my eldest’s mind was ticking over.  How could she earn more stars and more money?  So a barrage of questions began:

If we do something kind or nice can we get another sticker?


Can we get a sticker if I help my sister tidy her room?


Instead of £1, can I get £1.50?

This was the last straw for my husband, ‘Can you stop asking questions, Mum’s told you the rules and that’s that!’

I totally understood his frustrations.  He just wanted a tidy house for a change.  He wanted the girls to help create a tidy house.

But later on, I spoke to him privately and said, that I was extremely pleased that our eldest was asking those questions.  I was delighted that she was trying to get herself a better deal.  Negotiating with me – how can I get more stars?  How can I get better pay?  These are the qualities that we need to nurture and foster in them now, so that in the real world, she isn’t hesitant or worried about how to ask for a pay rise, how to get the most of where she is – how to negotiate to get what she wants, even if it seems that the barriers are well defined.

I’m not saying that I want to live in a world where people have no manners, no form of etiquette, no sense of how to speak to others and how to treat people.  Definitely not.  What I’m saying is that I don’t want leadership, assertiveness, negotiation skills squashed out of our girls because it suits society for them to be little dollies who are there to simply please others.

Let’s not encourage children to be ‘seen and not heard’, to be invisible.  Let’s encourage them to be leaders, decision makers, negotiators, confident – surely our society can only benefit from this?

Sunday nights…

If there’s one evening that is the worst of all – it’s Sunday evening.  It doesn’t matter how young or old you are.  Sunday evening remains that zone when you feel the blues – school or work tomorrow.  Funnily enough, a few years ago, I worked part time, but only the latter end of the week – Wednesday to Friday.  So my actual ‘Sunday evening’, was Tuesday evening – but it didn’t feel as bad.

Sunday evening is when all those anxieties creep back in – ‘Am I prepared for the week ahead?’ ‘Have I done everything that I need to do?’  If you’re in a particularly bad situation, then it’s ‘How the hell am I going to get through this week?’ And you find yourself wishing away the week, and hoping that the most precious evening of all (unless you’re in retail, of course),  Friday evening, can’t come soon enough.

So – instead of standing on the precipice of the immense dive-board that is Sunday night, and looking down precariously at the deep pool that denotes the week ahead – plan something to look forward to during the week, AND THEN DO IT.

Plan going to an exercise class, or go to the gym – honestly, when you’re feeling like this, exercise is the best form of relief.  For that half hour, 45 minutes, or hour – all you can concentrate on, is you.  Your breathing, your stamina, your physique.  You can’t think about anything else.  There is no negativity. All you can concentrate on is your breathing, pushing yourself to your limits, sweating and earning that treat that you’ve saved for yourself and now feel that you deserve.

Don’t cancel and think that you’re too busy to exercise.  Or it’s too hot.  Or you’re too tired.  You’re body and health – mental as well as physical – is of utmost importance.  For some reason, we all have that devil in us, that inner voice that tells us – don’t worry about exercise, you don’t need to do it; you don’t have the time; you need to relax; you’re way too tired….that’s the very voice that we need to drown out. That’s the voice that we need to stamp out and strangle, to within an inch of its life.

Listen, I’m no saint.  I’m not in peak physical condition by any stretch of the imagination.  The reason why I’m talking about that inner-voice is because I battle with it daily.  But I’ve fallen back in love with exercise again.  Selfishly, I’ve realised that the time I spend exercising, is the time purely dedicated to me.  Where I work on my goals and self-improvement for my life – not for anyone else.  It’s not about meeting targets, or making more profit, or making someone else money – it’s about being stronger and fitter than I was yesterday.  It’s about being tired and sweaty – but feeling satisfied.  It’s about being able to walk further, lift more, stand taller than I could yesterday.  And mentally – I can cope with more.

Even simply writing about this has made my Sunday night blues disappear.  I’m now thinking about the next exercise class that I’m going to go to, the next gym session that I will attend, about being faster, stronger, more determined to do better.

As always, my blogs are just my ramblings, a stream of consciousness that remind of what to do, if nothing else.  But I hope that I’ve made your Sunday night better, given you something else to focus on, and shifted your focus onto positive thoughts of self-development, instead of dread.

Must do better!

It’s report writing season for teachers at the moment.  A time where you dedicate hours and hours writing about the children that have become members of your family and have taken over your entire life.  I used to love writing the personal statements.  I loved writing about each and every child in my class, thinking about their little quirks, their achievements and how I wished them so very well for the next year.

Reports were not always like that though.  Particularly at secondary school.  Some of you may remember when you were graded either by a number or letter in each subjects, and the teacher would simply write a word or phrase next to each subject. ‘Excellent’; ‘Satisfactory’; ‘Good’…or ‘Must do better!’  It was ok though.  The grades and simple words or phrases told you all you needed to know.  Not like the epic writings of Tolstoy that the modern reports are.  In the old reports, everyone knew where they stood.

I’ve been thinking lots this morning though – why is it that only teachers are held accountable about the children that they teach?  Why are parents never accountable?  Why aren’t parents invited to termly reviews to assess how this parenting lark is going?  I am a parent myself – and just to put my hands up in advance, I absolutely hate the idea of this suggestion – but actually – would it make me think about how I parent my children more carefully?

I have two daughters, and as soon as they were born, a part of my brain also changed and an area called ‘FEAR’, grew to at least ten times its normal size.  Being a female, I’ve always been trained to be alert, fearful and slightly mistrusting – especially of men.  Hence, I never walk with headphones or earbuds in my ears; if I can, I avoid subways, short cuts, alleyways; I park in well-lit, busier areas.  I am so paranoid, I will never park next to a van if I can help it…just in case.

When my daughters were born, this necessity to protect and keep them safe became more important than protecting myself.  This is why I haven’t signed them up to dance or gymnastic classes – even though I know they would love that.  Instead, they do Martial Arts – which thank heavens they love too.  I want them to be tough, confident and assertive.

If I went to a parent review, I’d be talking about how I try to empower the girls by not only being proud of being strong, smart females, but also being proud of their Indian heritage.  So I read stories from India to them, and they delight in the rich mythology, the wisdom, the spirituality, the mysticism that these tales have to offer.

I’d bloody well expect at least a ‘good’ to ‘excellent’ grading.

But I’m a mother of girls.  And I want them to fiercely independent, strong, powerful women of the future.

On the flipside – what about men?

A friend of mine was telling about how her boyfriend dumped her because she insulted him and made him feel emasculated.  How has she insulted him and made him feel like less of a man?  She told his son to put his dishes in the kitchen when he had finished eating.  What???  There were other equally ridiculous examples of ‘insulting’ actions she had taken – which in the regular world, no one would bat an eyelid at.  But when your mother has brought you up as a prince, I suppose it would seem demeaning to do what is expected from others.

At the moment, in England, there is a huge uproar because there was a vote in the House of Commons about making the act of ‘upskirting’ (for those of you who don’t know, it’s taking pictures of someone’s underwear/genitals, without their knowledge/consent), illegal.  A no brainer right?  Surely every decent human being on this planet would find this act abhorrent?  Yes?  But one man objected and voted no.  So the process of making ‘upskirting’ illegal has been delayed.   I will tell you that upskirting is illegal in Scotland.  Huge round of applause for Scotland.  But let’s not forget – MEN wear kilts in Scotland….

This week in Australia, a young female comedian was found dead in the night.  This prompted the police to remind women of keeping safe!  The anger and rage that this statement produced was incredible.  Why does no one ever remind murderers and rapist men to behave?  Why is the onus always on the women?

I read somewhere about a curfew to keep women and girls safe, was presented to Golda Meir, first female Israeli Prime Minister.  She thought it was a great idea to place a curfew on men in order to keep women and girls safe at night.  Needless to say, that curfew idea was dropped faster than a hot potato baked in the ovens of hell.

The baton is always passed back to women.  Keep yourselves safe.  Don’t wear provocative clothes.  Be careful of how you sit.  Make sure you do this, this, that and the other….Where are the rules for men?  Where are the sanctions for men?

I have seen so many women and men, in so many cultures around the world, celebrate the birth of sons, with more pomp and ceremony than is ever given to the birth of a daughter.  How the mother of sons’ status is regarded higher than the mother of daughters.  Well then these parents have to be accountable, and society has to be accountable for the actions of these sons.  If I was to hold a review for the parents of sons, I would ask – does your son put his, and everybody else’s dishes away after eating?  Does he make his own bed?  Does he know how to cook?  Can he do the laundry?  Does he show respect to women that are not related to him?

No??? Then you all MUST DO BETTER!

I, and mothers like me will continue to bring up strong, powerful daughters who will rule this world.  Parents of sons need to question how they are bringing up their sons – if he’s a delicate prince, he’s no good to man nor beast.  We as a society need to think about how sons are brought up – the message that I leave you with, is that we must do better!!!!

All you need is love.

It’s the start of summer and we’ve been lucky.  May was beautiful.  Warm.  Not much rain.  Threats of terrible thunderstorms that haven’t yet transpired.  It’s been wonderful.  It was also my birthday.  I was supposed to be a June baby.  June 6th was my due date.  ‘Stuff that!’ I must have thought to myself in the womb, ‘Whitsun week and bank holiday Monday is where it’s at!’  So I arrived early, timed it perfectly, which means that only on one occasion in my life have I spent my birthday at work.

My birthday was wonderful.  Spending time being spoilt by loved ones.  Marvelling constantly at how my actual age does not match how old I think I am inside my head.  Am I really that many years old?  How did that happen?  Having young children helps too.  Being around little ones keeps you youthful.  You see life from their point of view, you see what makes them squeal with delight, you see what makes their hearts break, and you remember going through those things when you were young, and being there for them, takes years off you.

When I woke up this morning, I was relieved.  I’d just had a terrible, vivid nightmare where I was protecting my children from a monstrous man; the rage, the anger, the fear – all too real.  The comfort of the noises of the girls playing downstairs, already awake and ready to start the weekend, reassured me, I had woken up, the nightmare was just that – nothing more.

Walking around the house, whilst brushing my teeth, having breakfast, putting clothes outside on the washing line to dry, a song was going around and around in my head.  ‘All you need is love – dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, – All you need is love – dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, – All you need is love, love; love is all you need!’  Even as I write, the song is still going round my head, stuck, unwilling to give me some sort of a reprieve.

It’s not that I don’t like the song; I most definitely do.  It’s the simplicity of the song that I both love and also find irksome.  How can it be?  All you need is love.  But I’ve been thinking about this all day.  And I’ve been debating – is that do you need love?  Or do you need to give love?  If love is all you need, then why do people who are loved, still slip away?

What do I mean by slip away?  Well, this week in the news, there have been two cases of high profile people, who have sadly committed suicide.  What people have said about them, have brought me to tears.  So many lovely, touching words.  So many people describing what an effect and impact those people had had on other people’s lives.  And I wished, I just wished, that those people could have read or known how important they were to others.  How valued they were.  If they could have just talked to someone about what they were struggling with.  Perhaps; just perhaps – suicide might not have been the answer.

Whilst briefly reading about these people, what struck me was that they appeared, to the general public, to be so successful!  Talented, wealthy, famous, popular.  And yet….  They weren’t immune from the incredible, desperate sadness that drove them to the decision that they simply could not go on anymore.

Everyone’s life seems so glossy like a shiny brand new magazine, doesn’t it?  Particularly on social media, where people filter, edit and crop out the parts that they don’t want people to know and see, and present the aspects that are palatable.  But my advice is, don’t assume that your friends and family, who post their beautiful profile pictures, who celebrate successes on social media – are OK.  Don’t assume that anyone you love and care about are ok.  Check in on people.

Make the time, make the time – make the time – to make real contact with people, meet them, see them, make sure all is ok with them.  Forget texting.  Texting doesn’t have a shaky voice; lines under the eyes; tone of voice that betrays how someone is really feeling.  Meet people.  Hug your loved one.  Scientists have claimed that hugging releases serotonin into people’s bodies.  So meet, hug, talk, laugh, care.

I know it’s not that simple – love is all you need – life isn’t that simple.  We don’t have the time to care, we don’t have the time for anything.  But we need to make time.  Because once those loved ones are gone – that shit is permanent, and no heartfelt tributes are going to bring them back.  So reach out.

And finally – you.  Yes, you.  Talk to someone that you love and trust.  Go to a GP.  The medical profession contains angels.  They will help you.

Everything in life is temporary.  This desperate sadness that you might be feeling – it doesn’t have to last forever.  Your troubles won’t last forever.  Please reach out.  Talk to someone.  You have no idea how important you are.