School’s out

I’ve come to the end of my seven week writing course. It feels at once over too quickly and that it lasted forever. Its definitely a programme that will only give you what you put in and for the first time in a long while I went for it.

I don’t necessarily think my writing craft has improved that measurably. My feelings about it, my approaches to it and my willingness to share it have all changed. I think I am correct in saying that this was the first time since embarking on my university adventures that I confidently shared pieces I hadn’t finished or was happy with. This is huge. Imposter syndrome has been my constant companion for decades. Even when testing for my blackbelt +- 23 years ago (😱) I didn’t feel I was actually doing martial arts. I was faking it. So of course I didn’t stick with it. Now that I’m musing over it I don’t think I stuck with anything that I didn’t get quickly. My anthropology career is a little different as I am aware of the reasoning that led to that decision even though I disagree with it now. I disagree and would not change it as its landed me right here right now. Even with all the shite it’s a pretty awesome life.

Now that my course… No, it was more of a writing retreat held via zoom and slack. Now that my retreat is over I am looking at my busted journal and keyboard without a charger. There is a story to write. I have excavated and shined that light on a little doubt that I am not experienced enough to write it. That I should maybe start smaller. None of my ideas are smaller. So here I am. Taking a deep breath before spending 24 hours trying to find the damn charger because I have a story to tell and this pseudo relapse is really taking a toll so writing by hand is just for jotting down notes now. I’m grumpy and missing precious hours of sleep and I cannot be bothered to do anything right now. But I want to change the name of Tal’s dad. With the entry of him I get to bring Loradonna properly into the story. I have to do right by her or she will forever be glaring at me and I’ll get no peace. Le sigh. I enjoy it all.

This exacerbation has been kicking my ass though. Walking is a bitch. But you know what, I’ve got this. Truly it sucks but it’s not going to stop me. We’re having a reunion of sorts on Sunday which will be full of friends, music and excellent craic. I’m going in all my MSy glory, full of Irish mythology and random knowledge of my adopted tuath. Basically I’m going to be me. Me know is different than the me that left and they will be too. The music will be the constant. It’s going to be a glorious train wreck and I am so excited.

I wrote a thing

Actually I wrote a couple of things including working on Tal’s story. Its not felt like a productive few weeks while I was in them but given how little I’d written recently I’ve been fucking prolific. This has been helped by the poetry course i am currently taking. I have also found another source of personal and devotional inspiration. I’ll start with the latter.

Recently I have been exploring the lore of An Mórrígan. The goddess of battle, prophecy, poetry and magic has captured my imagination in a way not much has in a long time. During a meditation session my mind wandered to her and I wrote a poem for the first time in twenty years. I have no idea when I’ll be able to but i plan to make a pilgrimage to a historical site associated with her. Long may this ride continue. This was before my course started so I have dedicated this work to her.

I had no idea how the poetry course was going to go. I assumed i would lurk a bit, make some comments and soak up as much as I could. Happily that’s not what’s happened, I’ve shared a couple of the poems I’ve written for this course and the feedback has been good. I was terrified of sharing, its been so damn long. Plus all my writing, prose and poetry, feels like it was written by a 20 year old. Maybe even a 17 year old. I recognise I am being a bit harsh on myself but the feeling is there. And the doubt. If this course has given me anything its been a quiet confidence boost and validation.

This is the first untitled poem:

And now I pause taking a lesson from the trees, their roots nestled in the dark and warmth.
They let go without fear.
I take a lesson from the seed, pregnant with potential and patiently waiting.
Dreaming without limitation deep in the earth where new life first emerges.
As the light begins to wane and the air blows colder,
Like the seed I dream,
Like the roots I take refuge in the darkness.
Ready to emerge (unapologetically bold) with the season’s change.

The second I’m calling Osteoarchaeolgist for now. It’s the result of an exercise in automatic writing. Hello subconscious.

I will speak through you,
You will sing.
Deep. The bones know where all your secrets are.
Ignore them
Bury them
Close your eyes
The bones know.

Chronically ill
Dreams that died
Dreams scared to be born.
The bones know.

Struggles to breathe
Skeleton in the water
Twice buried bones
My refrain,
The bones know.

Equal parts hope and desperation
The bones know, i do not.

Cast your spell
The bones
The bones know.

And the one I’m currently working on :


The open passage beckons
Stars burn in my mind’s eye, pulling me
Just a moment of hesitation
One step, one breath and I enter the dark
Deeper and deeper into the mystery of her.
Stone pressing down and squeezing out my oxygen
Usually I would panic yet I don’t
Reaffirming my vow i am new again
And so, with gratitude i exchange vanity for service.
Turning to the light i make my way back trailing finger tips along stone
A caress, a promise.

Well now this post feels very personal. Now I am nervous and embarrassed so I’m going to go hide. And get ready for my course.

Busy little bees

It’s been busy in our little house. I’m exhausted but more optimistic than I’ve been in a long time. Things are settling gently into place. I’m not sure where to start.

Because we live between fields in the pastoral outskirts of a sweet little town the nights are getting dark. Like, dark dark. I’m loving it so far. That might change by January. Nothing is too far and we see family regularly. We’re even meeting up with old friends soon. It’s almost all good. The financial situation is still a bit Shite and my MS is not great but i take that a day at a time. When I started writing this I had been waiting and waiting for a neurology appointment. I finally fucking have one. Excited. Excited. Excited. My meds run out the day before it so I hope they can sort me out quickly. More than that I hope they can help me find a new rudder to navigate this mess.

The boy is doing well in his nursery school. We like them as well. I occasionally wonder if they wonder about me. I’ve shown up with a walker, a wheelchair and a mobility scooter 😁. It doesn’t matter because they’ve been nothing but patient and kind.

I’m delaying a little bit because mostly I am super excited about my new course! Its a creative writing/poetry course with a witchy flavour. So far its been so fun to chat with others and swap ideas and experiences. Its been ages since I’ve been a part of something like this. Its all conducted virtually and one of the weekly sessions is a bit late for me but I’m there. So far I’ve been able to attend. Do you know what’s even better? I’ve finally started typing up my story. I am at around 4,000 words. Considering i went months without writing anything I’m pretty chuffed. Its coming together more naturally than I expected it might (which is a relief) and even though I’m positively itching to edit what I’ve written i have been good and just PUTTING IT ALL ON PAPER. I can edit later. The only editing I’ve done has been structural as I’ve been connecting the dots.

The two scenes I’ve been working on are Tal’s leaving the college of magical science and her arrival to Artem’s estate. I have been trying to get the feel of the actual buildings right in my head. This has included a lot of image browsing and i think I can borrow from historical Japanese architecture, particularly some of their temples. I’ve started In Praise of Shadows and I think that aesthetic will work well for the main building. Ouwase’s lab will be open air, or possibly more like some of the indigenous buildings in some of jungles in South America. He pretty much farms the jungle for his ingredients and is usually wandering through it.

I think that’s pretty much everything for now. Tonight’s class is about to start. Until next time.

Nadelyn, Noe, Nirvikara

For the first time in months I have sat and written. Written something new. Since leaving the TES* framework behind I have avoided a beginning. Yes, I have written of Tal’s beginning but that’s not where the story started. Where it started originally was in the back of a wagon on the road up to Markarth’s gate. The first line Tal said aloud was “I fucking hate Markarth.” (she had her reasons). If I am being honest with myself I can admit there is still much of Tal’s story floating in space completely untethered to any actual structure and much of it is not useful to the story any more. The introduction to this new story was nothing more than vapour – a vague idea of what I thought might work as a way to let the reader in.

Turns out I took my own advice and just fucking wrote. I wrote without a plan. I enjoy writing even though my writing has gotten worse again. Admiring the slightly distressing decay of my handwriting I turned the page. A clean page. What if Tal’s mum kept journals? What if Tal’s uncle’s kept them until now. And I was off. I was truly on a roll. I have the first first-person section of my story. It turned out ok. Maybe writing from Tal’s point of view helped me get started. As she worked through her feelings via my pen a host of ideas settled together. Switching back to third person was an easy transition. I had a better idea of the college layout, it’s location & distance to Artem’s house and, even better, a more solid understanding of her one friend. I jettisoned (carefully cut and saved) several characters from the TES version that helped along the way. All replaced with this one who should be positioned to be able to help right through Tal being recruited into my secret order. All the way to the final chapter. I hope they survive future changes because I like them already. Ok, that’s not true, they MAY survive to the final chapter. If they do I have a job for them. No, at this point they aren’t non-binary. I don’t have a gender or species yet. Interestingly they are engaged though. While Tal was working through her feelings she wrote that Noe’s fiancé would never forgive her if she got Noe in trouble. So there’s that. I can work with that.

The best bit, the part I didn’t want to leave, was introducing Noe to The House. It’s one of my favourite characters. Now that I have a more solid grasp of the scope and magic involved I am excited excited excited to write it. It’s Tal’s life’s work right now. Figuring it out with her has been a joy.

I know most of my posts have been brief for a very long time. The plan of the moment is to keep popping over here because it keeps me accountable. I’m not sure if the content will shift (or how) though I hope to write some longer pieces. Until then, look after yourselves. Oh, I finally got my chocolate cupcakes. I already licked this one 😁

*In case you didn’t know, TES stands for The Elder Scrolls.

Did you say extraplanar space?

Do you have a moment? Hear me out-

The run down building has a door that leads to a room with a tiny kitchen space and a back door. There’s a hall that leads to a few rooms. Walking through the back door takes you to a garden somewhere else. Down the small hall there’s a door to sleeping quarters, by the sea. Another leads to a lab in a different forest. Each door is a portal to another location. These locations have doors to other places. Each one added by previous inhabitants of this house. The sentience connects them. Some bits are glitchy some are effortless and beautifully crafted.

Eventually, if you know how it works, you’ll pass through a door to a place unlike any you’ve ever seen. Its a pocket. Only in this place can the sentience of the house, split over vast distances and spaces, come together. You can speak with them and hear their story. Their creation is quite interesting. The personalities of the makers who have added and modified it are all there, including the first. The one who first became the space. Who found the pocket.

If this works Tal will also make a door. Gods I hope this works or I’m going to have to write another story.

There’s more snippets

I can’t find the cable to charge my tablet and I think i know where my keyboard is. I’ve been thinking about Tal’s story so much lately its all bubbling to the surface. Here are more blurbs I’m pulling out of a random back pocket because my journal I unpacked is somewhere? These are from scribbles I’ve written in random places. Ignore my hurried grammar:

° I may have already mentioned some of this regarding Elgiva’s death – It was in speaking with Ouwasei (who saw her mother hit the door) that she learned that her mom cast a spell designed to bring Tal to her that was interfered with by the ruin. The door slammed shut between them so Tal was stuck. Spells are organic and have their rules, since it couldn’t bring Tal to El, it pulled El to Tal. What Tal thought was her mother getting hit by the crossbow bolt and smacking the door was the spell slamming El into the door in an attempt to execute its function. The bolt followed in the space of a blink. Ouwa saw it happen. If it wasn’t for the spell her mother would still be alive. Magic was pointless and dangerous to Tal. She decided to avoid it with all of her childish conviction. Artem and Ouwa’s skill saved her and sent a message back to the elves that hired the assassins, no magic needed. She didn’t appreciate it was her guardians reputation and a well placed lie that kept further assassins away. That and the ingenious poison that greeted the elf who opened the package of heads and laced the packaging itself. That was quite the cover-up.

°Ouwa would spend time at his teashop/apothecary and once she was allowed to, Tal enjoyed accompanying him. There she met Loebos and learned it was partially his network of people and enchantments that helped keep their estate secluded and secure. Loebos was a part of the escape plan to keep her safe from the people who tried to kill her. Loebos and the Walkers of the Mangolin.

°The Mangolin was the first place to run if she needed to. As a girl Ouwa had brought her and Artem to the edge of it and performed a ritual of adoption. Artem explained it was based on the ritual used by the people who raised them and research Ouwa had conducted on his own heritage and Lacertian cultures. The Walkers respected and accepted Ouwa so this ritual, done for their benefit, made her a part of him and would help grant her passage to head towards the mountains. “But they accept you too. Why not have you both adopt me?” “I have adopted you. While I have earned a guarded respect given by all the indigenous peoples here these Walkers have a kinship with Ouwa. We are using that.”

°The house became her obsession. It was full of books, scrolls, schematics and notes. The notes were keys or maps into the world of her mother she had abandoned. They were written by a real person with triumphs and failures and were full of curiosity. As she read them she felt the house warm to her. It would have lamps lit and curtains open when she walked in. The fact it did these things never struck her as odd. Her mom had set up enchanted lights in Artem’s estate so she assumed the previous owner had done the same. She was only partially correct.

°it wasn’t until books or scrolls she was looking for started showing up on the small table by her favourite reading chair did she start to wonder. the windows and doorways looked collapsed and blocked from the outside. It’s an enchantment but that’s not how i first conceived it. Initially the ruin was a ruin and the doorway didn’t take you to the inside of that building. It took you to another which wasn’t far away. It might not stay an enchantment now that I’m typing it.

°it was from the house she developed her understanding and fascination of portals. It was because of the house she decided she wanted to study at the college. Neither Ouwa or Artem thought very highly of this idea. To help them she searched and searched for spells of disguise. She would go disguised as Alva, an unremarkable student from the fertile valley to the west. Even Loebos who always encouraged her bad ideas doubted this one. “you are going to use spells in a college of spell casters and you expect to not be found out?” Artem leaned back in his chair as he spoke, “this one of your more idiotic ideas and i cannot support it.”

°”these spells are different than any I’ve found or that my mother taught me. They’re anchored to a physical object so i don’t even have to cast them, just put the item on my person. I doubt people would be able to figure out what it was that they thought was odd about me. Remember, I read the senior texts dealing with illusions, masking and conjuring. None of their spells were like this. Which reminds me. I must thank Loebos again for getting me those books. “

“He agrees with me,” Artem sighed.

°This debate went on for weeks “He won’t talk to me about it anymore. He mumbles and hisses as he walks away. It’s jarring to hear someone so sweet swear so eloquently.” that made Artem laugh. He adored that about his gentle lizard. “Ouwa will be amused you think that. People tend to forget he is a renowned poisoner and trainer of assassins. He chooses to be sweet, to be kind. ” “I haven’t forgotten. I will never forget. or stop asking him to teach me.” spoiler – he won’t teach Tal to poison people but she does learn a few tricks


°Loradonna was irritated. His blasé response made her furious. She yanked another chair over sitting heavily as she kicked the leg of Elisander’s , spinning him to face her. ‘I remember who I am,” she leaned forward, “Do you? Dear.” A fork dangled from her deceptively relaxed hand. Elisander glanced at it knowing full well how fast she could be. He cleared his throat. “ahem, What did she actually do? Or rather, what wouldn’t she do?” (luckily for him she isn’t particularly skilled with weaponry, just vicious)



Ok, this could go on but I have other things i need to do. Writing these down in one place has been fun. As a bonus himself and I get to have extended discussions on magical theory and spells. Guess I’m feeling like my gears have been oiled. Transferring my scribbles and memos to the blog has highlighted how often i switch between first and third person when I’m first putting my ideas to paper. The actual draft as I was writing it was all 3rd person. I am now wondering about trying a full scene all in 1st person to see how it reads. Honestly, i don’t think it would work for the whole thing. Even my outlines were from the point of view of an omniscient author. It’s worth trying though. I’m experienced *just* enough to know its going to take several (more than several probably) drafts to get it right either way so why the fuck not. Now I need to sort myself out so i can get a proper chuck of writing done. Divines know it will feel good.

Writing exercise – some ideas

One of the aspects of my recovery i am struggling with the most is getting back into a regular creative schedule. I don’t remember if I mentioned (and I’m lazy and haven’t checked) that the other day I crocheted for the first time since getting on the ferry. The physical act of writing hasn’t happened at all. In months. I have completely fizzled out. If not for the compulsion to not let this blog die i wouldn’t have updated it at all. My good Doctor reads but doesn’t post anymore yet it’s still a connection to that idea we birthed so I tend the flame. I have filled it full of my particular brand of rambling and creating which i find comforting to put into words. You all help me defragment my hard drive. I can be honest and admit sometimes even i don’t know what its going to look like when it’s finished.

Because this blog has been a useful place to experiment, a diary of my misadventures in writing, I’ve decided to come back to it in the same way I started. I have ideas. Scenes. Things to say. Scraps of story. Welcome back to my initial draft. There’s a woman who’s story is thumping the inside of my skull. Her name is Tal and in the part surfacing right now she is processing the death of her mum. Also this dude is a lizard who can rotate his eyes independently. In case it wasn’t obvious, I adore him. So here is a list of scraps, notes and half formed ideas. Bits of thoughts in various stages.

°It took Artem longer than usual to trek back through the jungle. He took the route he often did but his feet were heavy with grief. There was an angry and scared little girl hiding in their home and he had no idea how to help her. Fear keeps her inside. She was playing in the forest when they attacked and now the trees talking in the breeze made her paranoid and anxious. She was always anxious now.

°As he crossed through the floating gardens he glimpsed Owa leaning on the porch talking to himself. “have you gone mad?” he called. Owa glanced over as artem left the gardens and pointed up. She was so well hidden and he was so distracted  he hadn’t seen her on the roof. He flushed in shame. That kind of negligence would have gotten her killed not that long ago. Owa understood.” You are not the only one watching.”

°”two sets of eyes are better.”Artem set his bag on the covered porch. Looking up through the roof as though he could see her, he asked” how did you get her out of the house?”

°”I told her you could see a tepui of the elves in the distance. Once up there i showed her the rivers and grasslands, the Mangolin and the direction of the sea. You could try teaching her Artem. She has a keen eye for detail. Teach her to see. Then teach her to listen. She is like her mother in that she wants to know but fear is holding her back, ” his hand cupped the side of Artem’s face,” you can help each other grieve. I did not know her mother as well as you though I do know Elgiva was not the type to hide. She faced every challenge directly, just as you do. She was not blood but she was very much one of yours. Knowing would help Tala feel strong.” Artem-sith leaned into the caress breathing deeply.” you are far too wise. And observant. How in all the hells am I going to teach a child? You may have forgotten I am a hermit and notoriously grumpy. “

°Owa barked his rasping laugh and spoke rapidly in hisses and clicks. Artem scowled, “that’s not helpful.” “but its funny. Go up there and use your well honed skills to figure it out.” with that Owa shoved him through the door. Once through the hatch Artem hesitated to approach the girl. “are you going to show me the path to their mountain? Owa refused.”

°”He showed you better things. More useful things.”Artem made his way over to sit by the girl. Revenge was something he knew. She would die young without a channel for that drive, this he understood.

°”Always know your surroundings. When I started my training my teachers had quite a challenge keeping me contained. It served me well as I gained in skill. I learned their swamp. My swamp. It was similar to the Mangolin over there,” gesturing to the east he continued,” but hotter. Eventually i knew it better than they who merely used it to hide. Eventually even they couldn’t find me. When I left i doubt any one else bothered to know the land as well. That skill served me in many ways. “

°Tal’s eyes had gone large and round. “who trained you? Did you train my mother? Did you kill people? Did she kill people?” she had scooted forward and was looking at my him so intensely it made him uncomfortable, maybe this was a terrible idea. “i did train Elgiva a bit and no, she never killed anyone. I have killed people. Knowing who trained me will not help or bring you peace. My parents left me as an offering. People who take children as sacrifices are not worth knowing.” Tal lowered her eyes, her jaw working as she processed. ” Your mom was gentle though she never wanted people to realise it. She never killed though she didn’t always follow the rules.”

°”we can stay stay up here or you can come to the floating garden with me. I think it’s time Talaith.”

°”Time? Time hasn’t moved Artem. I hear her struggling to breathe every time I close my eyes. I can still smell the blood. My mother’s blood, I smell it!” there was rising panic in her voice, “i heard her hit the door and i couldn’t get out. I couldn’t get to her. The door was stuck. I couldn’t get to her ” a breath “when the door opened the sudden light made me blink. Maybe if i… Never mind. she’s dead now. and i can never be sure they won’t be back. I should be dead instead and i will never be able to repay her sacrifice.” Tal shrunk as she sat there, her hands palms up on her lap.

°that is a huge burden you have given yourself

°they started in the floating garden. The water ways of the garden moved like worms. By the end of the day Tal was sick of being lost. Artem began by walking her through without using the visitor’s path. The islands constantly moved. He showed her the plants and creatures that lived there, some of which were not natural to her eyes. Then he blindfolded her and walked her into the living maze. After a count she opened her eyes.

°took time but she learned to watch the garden, the pulse of islands, the mood of the wind, even the hum of the insects. He could put her anywhere and she could find her way out.

° the jungle itself took much longer. She gained confidence in feeling the forest. The lives and cycles of the creatures that lived there. She stopped flinching at birds landing in the trees by her window. As they walked Artem would teach or tell stories of her mother. Tal cherished these walks. They would stop and sit along the many streams and Tal could visit her grief and fears, her memories of her mother. Slowly she began to heal. She never fully returned to the laughing bright kid she was before but at least she smiled now. Tal started training with Artem and following Owa around as he gathered plants. She never practiced the magic her mother taught her.

°Occasionally when they went out she would take the lead and find herself back at that cursed ruin. Then she would get angry. It was only then that the magic would manifest and was quickly buried again.

°nearly two years after her mother was murdered Tal went for a swim on her own and found herself floating past that jumble of stone and rotten wood. The rage and pain was dull and throbbing as she got out of the river and walked to the ruin. The door looked the same. Her guilt and grief grew while she stood there until she was yelling at the ruined building and banging the door. It attracted attention. The forest grew quiet, not silent but hushed. Tal stopped her ranting, tensed and slowly looked around listening intently. She probably wouldn’t hear an arrow until it was too late. There. Eyes. And a low growl. She couldn’t out run one of these. They don’t often hunt this close to settlements. She backed toward the door. The beast bunched and charged. Tal leaned back into the door, all Artem’s training forgotten in a moment then the door opened and she fell backwards. The door slammed shut and she was in darkness. Mercifully she was not fending off the big black cat.

°a lamp lights making Tal jump as she was trying to stand so she ended up on the floor again. From the floor she saw books. Getting up she looked around the room. It didn’t look like a ruin from inside. It is a mess but looks like someone left in a hurry, not like it had been abandoned for over 100 years as she had imagined.

I’m still here

Hello people on the Internet

Well, I survived. We survived. We have our own place with sheep and cows as neighbours. I don’t live as close to the sea as I’d like but I’ve been in it more in the last six weeks than I have in the previous eight years. And that’s about it because I am still only mostly functioning. I am still settling after all the trauma but this is a nice place to be healing. Did I mention sheep?

The panic of trying to find a place to rent in England was all consuming. We had already been talking about moving back but we were hoping to save a bit, get the boy help with his speech and language therapist & school because we had built a great team to help support him. Finding absolutely nothing because we had pets and I’m on benefits was devastating. I hadn’t appreciated how badly pet owners were discriminated against these days. Or disabled people. Especially disabled people, even after we arrived here. It has made a huge difference having support. Living in my in-laws living room wasn’t great but you saw in the photos how cosy we were 🤣. The boy’s aunt came out with us for his birthday. It’s just so fucking nice. So nice that all the annoying issues with the official and medical things aren’t so bad. Ok, they’re pretty bad but not world ending bad.

So, last night we sat out in the garden and watched the Perseids. There was still a bit too much light pollution but we saw a few while being serenaded by sheep and cows. It’s so dark and private we also had sex in the moonlight while shooting stars fell across the sky. There is still a tonne of crap to sort out but things are pretty good. We are slowly manifesting the life we had been talking about for a long time, just a hell of a lot sooner than we’d planned. And with more cow smell. If I could get some regular sleep and a ramp for the back porch that would be excellent. I keep eyeing my journal. Tal is waiting, I feel the pressure building.

I am working through ideas for developing her portal magic more. In my head there is (I don’t like this term) a chase where she moves and flows through a building between floors and rooms using portals. Confusion ensues. I hope it might work in her dad’s museum. Maybe not a chase. Maybe she’s running. Oooooooh….. Maybe

We made it

We’re here, in my in-laws house. Sleeping in their living room.

The move itself was horrible. The movers planned to take longer than we expected so we had to rush. We had no money to find a hotel or pay an extra days rent. Never mind ferry fees. So we bailed and left way more stuff than we planned. The house was a tip. We wrote them and apologised, explaining the situation and letting them know we will of course pay for the clearance. Everyone but the boy was in tears all bloody day. We made the ferry though.

The ferry trip was excellent. Our berth was comfortable and clean. The kennels were nice. The staff were friendly. It was stressful but enjoyable as well. The boy loved being on the boat 😁. He pretended to feed the whales and dolphins. And we made it. So did our stuff. Fergus the Ficus has had some tlc from my mom-in-law which he desperately needed. (Fergus is 18 years old. We took him in from friends of ours who moved to the Netherlands then back to the USA in 2007/2008.) So we are here. Paperwork is in progress. Medical stuff is in progress. We have a meeting in a week or so regarding finding housing. We even have nursery and pediatrician recommendations.

We are making a mess of his parents house. It is stressing my dad-in-law a lot and he’s being snippy to hubby’s mum. He has his own physical and mental health challenges and his anxiety is getting the upper hand. So we tried to organise our stuff as much as possible today. Less visual clutter for him. Then my bowels opened for no fucking reason. Seriously. Poonami. It sucked.

My fatigue had been at levels it hasn’t been at in a couple of years. I was feeling a bit better and less fatiguey today. Then poop. All the poop. Damn it. I guess it’s a good thing they have an understanding of my reality since we’ve not been around them in 8 or so years. Demoralising much. Moving on from me… The boy wasn’t going to sleep until 22:00/23:00 (10:00/11:00) until the other night. It has been difficult getting a routine established for him. Between this and the general disruption our Little Dude has been so out of sorts. He’s doing better than I expected though. He has a new bird friend named Neville after the hyacinth macaw he met at the Tropical Bird Land back in the Midlands. And now you are caught up. I need to go to bed.