Return to the dark side...

It's been almost 4 weeks since my last blog.

That feels like a confession. I never wanted to use this blog as a confessional. Which is why I've avoided it during the last few weeks when my mood has been low. I had planned to take the time off up to Christmas, but the other 3 weeks' absence were purely down to keeping the bad sh*t to myself. There's enough negative stuff posted on the internet, no?

(Yes, I censored myself in the last paragraph, my mum might be reading!)

So if you're going through some dark stuff, how do you keep the internet positive? "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything." Is that it?

Sometimes, though, knowing that other people are going through the same thing can be helpful - positive, if you will! So sharing your negative experience can give support to those in need. And hope. Hope is a powerful resource.

I confess here and now to being a massive geek. I love sci-fi and fantasy. I'm raising my two little boys to be geeks. I'd be hard-pressed to pick a favourite but my kids would pick Star Wars every time. I could write an entire, separate blog about why they might be right AND why they might be wrong. But part of what I love about SW is hope.

Princess Leia was the ideal movie heroine when I was a young girl: she fought for her people and their freedom, she was feisty, she held her own among men, she rocked a totally unique look and she didn't care what anyone thought of her. But chiefly, she clung to hope against all the odds.

For quite different reasons - although I'm sure a psychologist would tell you it's all subconsciously connected - I have a tattoo that reads "HOPE OVER FEAR" in bold, clear capital letters. It's a bastardisation of a Nelson Mandela quote: "May your choices in life reflect your hope rather than your fear."

For Madiba it meant making hard decisions and putting his neck on the line when it would be easier to sit down and stay quiet. Due to his close ties to Glasgow and his massive popularity here, it was used as a motto during the Scottish Independence Referendum campaign in 2014 to reflect pro-indepence voters' hopes for their country rather than fears of what might go wrong.

For me, it's a regular reminder to banish the anxiety which creates fear and to live in hope: hope of a better day tomorrow, hope for a medical improvement, hope for my kids to be happy.

Sometimes, though, making decisions based on hope involves speaking out for what you believe in. That exposes you to scrutiny. And other people's opinions. Just as I came across people who disagreed with me during the independence referendum, three years later I continue to find myself on the opposite side of the table from people when I voice my opinion. For example I recently had a (very minor and trivial) debate with someone over the merits of ironing school shirts. While I could have kept my thoughts on the matter to myself, I also found myself wanting to help my friend who'd raised the question. I wasn't simply airing my view in order to have it heard (look at me!) but I was trying to improve someone else's quality of life (very marginally, a few times a week).

I don't blog to have my wonderful opinions seen online. I have no desire to become "Internet-famous." I live simply in hope that my little ramblin' prose will help someone who identifies with what I have to say. Most of the time my words are carefully chosen and intend only to do good. I accept that some will disagree with what I believe - even though they're clearly wrong(!) - but I'm capable of accepting that and biting my lip. You can't make people think like you. You can show them your side of the issue, no more. There's a cute little picture in our bathroom that has a little family of ducks on it and underneath it reads, "You can lead a child to water, but you can't make them wash."

A humorous garbling of a popular saying. One which I can testify is accurate. Anyone else who has parented a 6- and a 7-year-old boy can surely agree. I put my thoughts online in the hope that they will reach someone in a meaningful way. If that doesn't happen, I haven't done something wrong. The intention is good, the action is good. The end result just hasn't gone my way. And that's something I'm trying to accept through all aspects of my life right now.

I went to the doctor today to ask for more consideration of the pain I'm suffering at the moment. I was fortunate enough to see a locum doctor who took a little more time familiarising herself with my history before diving straight in. She felt the swelling in my hips, knees and fingers. She considered everything on my file and then everything I presented today and she agreed that what I'm experiencing is no longer acceptable for the diagnosis I'd been given. She'd like to investigate further and has ordered more tests with a laundry list of new things to look for in my bloodstream.

The niggling voice of anxiety in my head has been dismissing my discomfort and pain for weeks, telling me that what I have wrong with me is trivial and that I must be a wuss. If I'd gone to the doctor with that attitude I'd have taken my regular prescription from her, thanked her and left. Because I live in hope of something better, I spoke out. I hoped that there would be a better explanation. I was right. At best, I'll get a new diagnosis with a good prognosis. At worst, I'll discover that my existing condition is worse than first thought. I know that's the worst case scenario because the doctor said those words to me. And she wouldn't have done that if I hadn't stuck my neck out and voiced my concerns.

The worst thing about living in fear is that it confirms itself. By living in hope, I give myself a chance to discover new things and make better choices while the worst thing that happens is that I don't get what I want - but I wouldn't have got it anyway. By living in fear, you only ever get your fears fed back to you: you don't get the job you didn't go for; you don't raise well-behaved children without showing that you trust them; you don't get a new clinical diagnosis if you don't tell your doctor about new symptoms. Living in fear achieves very little. But living in hope?

Hoping for the best but allowing for the worst is a realistic but positive way to live life. Acting on your hopes for yourself and the world gives you the satisfaction of trying, regardless of the outcome. A wise woman recently said to me, I'll only ever regret the chances I didn't take.

So I acknowledge that I lived in fear for the last few weeks - I should have been blogging but I didn't do it out of fear that readers wouldn't want to see the darkness I was going through. My tattoo has shaken me out of that state and I'm going forward again...

With A New Hope.



FG x