Back to reality...
So those who follow my Instagram will know that my beautiful little sister got married last Saturday. Amidst a sea of sequins, bright peonies, roses and hydrangeas – what a party! From start to finish, the whole weekend was filled with laughter, as we reminisced about Jules’ wild days, and danced until our heels were kicked off, and ate until we were full of delicious food, and felt totally exhausted... The weekend summed Jules up: bright, vivacious, wild and full of love.
During the six months leading up to it, I had been fearful about a number of things. Namely, that I would miss it, but also that I would feel unwell or not be able to fit into my bridesmaids dress (my water retention right now can make me look nine months pregnant at times). I had nightmares, reoccurring ones – though I’ll save those gems for another post.
But anyway, I made it! I got to watch Jules walk down the aisle. She looked stunning, elegant and confident. She smiled from ear to ear when she saw her man waiting for her at the alter, and that's really is what it’s all about, right? Love. Four letters, with such significant meaning. To have found someone you love who loves you back, ‘just the way you are’ – what a winner.
In the week leading up to, and over, the weekend, I found I was largely able to forget about things – well, except during the hospital appointments obviously. I was busy. I felt ‘normal’. I was my old self. Yes, I had the water retention, but I had something to look forward to and focus on. For that one weekend I had no cares in the world.
I’ve been told that after such a huge celebration and party - which this wedding certainly was – one often feels down. And I do, I feel really lost! The fun thing that has been keeping me going is now over and yesterday, apart from being so overtired I could not think straight, I felt unsure again.
Over the past two days I’ve kept overly busy because I know I have to face another imminent cardiac catheter. It’s not the actual procedure I hate (although it is painful), it’s the reminder I’m unwell. It’s remembering things have got to get worse before they can get better. And that makes me scared. I don’t want to lose my independence.
I find having a cry sometimes helps. I’ve sat in the car before, when I’m tired and my water retention is heavy, and sobbed "why me?" Then I’ve pulled myself together. I can’t cry forever, what’s the point? But for that moment though, I feel free. The mask comes off, and I can breathe.
I know I'm very lucky. I’m certainly not going to feel sorry for myself and neither will I let anybody else feel sorry for me. (NEVER!)
What’s next? Battle on, with my head held high. Strive to raise awareness, and to live life to the full.
I’m not ashamed of being scared, by the way. I’m not apologetic about crying either, or wearing a mask. I’m me, all 4’11 of me and I’m going to soldier on in the best way I know how.
During the six months leading up to it, I had been fearful about a number of things. Namely, that I would miss it, but also that I would feel unwell or not be able to fit into my bridesmaids dress (my water retention right now can make me look nine months pregnant at times). I had nightmares, reoccurring ones – though I’ll save those gems for another post.
But anyway, I made it! I got to watch Jules walk down the aisle. She looked stunning, elegant and confident. She smiled from ear to ear when she saw her man waiting for her at the alter, and that's really is what it’s all about, right? Love. Four letters, with such significant meaning. To have found someone you love who loves you back, ‘just the way you are’ – what a winner.
In the week leading up to, and over, the weekend, I found I was largely able to forget about things – well, except during the hospital appointments obviously. I was busy. I felt ‘normal’. I was my old self. Yes, I had the water retention, but I had something to look forward to and focus on. For that one weekend I had no cares in the world.
I’ve been told that after such a huge celebration and party - which this wedding certainly was – one often feels down. And I do, I feel really lost! The fun thing that has been keeping me going is now over and yesterday, apart from being so overtired I could not think straight, I felt unsure again.
Over the past two days I’ve kept overly busy because I know I have to face another imminent cardiac catheter. It’s not the actual procedure I hate (although it is painful), it’s the reminder I’m unwell. It’s remembering things have got to get worse before they can get better. And that makes me scared. I don’t want to lose my independence.
I find having a cry sometimes helps. I’ve sat in the car before, when I’m tired and my water retention is heavy, and sobbed "why me?" Then I’ve pulled myself together. I can’t cry forever, what’s the point? But for that moment though, I feel free. The mask comes off, and I can breathe.
I know I'm very lucky. I’m certainly not going to feel sorry for myself and neither will I let anybody else feel sorry for me. (NEVER!)
What’s next? Battle on, with my head held high. Strive to raise awareness, and to live life to the full.
I’m not ashamed of being scared, by the way. I’m not apologetic about crying either, or wearing a mask. I’m me, all 4’11 of me and I’m going to soldier on in the best way I know how.
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