When I’m not therapist-ing…

I'm someone whose life changed significantly when I became chronically ill.

I've always loved swing dancing, vintage clothes and interiors, and music that takes me to different places. New Orleans jazz, Motown, New Wave, ’90s indie; I love it all, with room for more. I was introduced to the Golden Age of Hollywood by my grandparents, watching black and white films on rainy Sunday afternoons, with crumpets for tea.

I’ve never owned a TV, so some cultural references go straight past me. Wordplay, slightly twisted humour and talking utter rubbish with friends, however, I can happily contribute to. Preferably with tea and some 85% dark chocolate.

There’s also quite a lot of lying down quietly in the dark.

Living with chronic illness and neurodivergent needs involves careful planning, recovery time and feeling about 110 years old. The vintage aesthetic was originally meant to stop at the clothes.

I can be exhausted and still be awake at 4am, processing a day that everyone else has finished with. I can be genuinely excited about seeing someone and still have to cancel. Even plans that leave plenty of room for rest can turn out to ask more of me than I have available.

I miss spontaneity. Saying no to things I’d love to do, with people I’d love to see, can be deeply frustrating.

Learning to pace myself and understand my capacity has been an education in humility. I still get it wrong sometimes; accepting that I’m human and have limits is an ongoing learning curve.

Both realities belong here. The joy is real, and so is the need to recover. There’s room in my life for being enthusiastic, ridiculous, thoughtful, frustrated and tired. Sometimes all within the same afternoon. From one human being to another; if you also find it hard to balance the tightrope of actually staying alive while feeling as though you are truly living, then I know where you're coming from. Life can be awfully messy sometimes and I'm here for it, and for you.