I took a holiday this weekend; it wasn’t planned, I didn’t discuss it with anyone and it was much needed. I took a holiday from confrontation – I allowed Hugo to do what he liked, when he liked and with whom he liked (he was safe as his judgement is pretty sound – I haven’t lost my mind!) to avoid backlash, arguments and me feeling like the bad guy.
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If you’re into Festivals and all they entail – this is in no way ‘mud slinging’ at your life choices and how you spend your spare time and hard earned cash. Call me ‘Fanny McFuck-Off Festivals’, but I bloody hate the things.
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Hi, I’m Jess and I want more sleep! In fact, I’ve always wanted more sleep and just as I got to an age where my weekend mornings were mine, as an adult – no more teen weekend job, no more “do you know what time it is?” from mum and with hedonistic nights/ghastly hangovers behind me – I went and threw small people into the mix and out the window went all my sweet, slumbering dreams.
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One of the themes that’s continued to arise over the last 8-10 years, both in my head and within my online community, is a diagnosis for all that Hugo is and does. I consider seeking a diagnosis when things are bad – when Hugo’s thrown the shit at the parental fan and I feel like I’m drowning in failure, it’s my flare for help. Then things settle down for a bit, a teacher/GP or CAHMS give you a look/letter of “I’m sure he’ll grow out of it”, so I lose my gusto and don’t want to rock the behavioural boat – until the next time!
But you know what they say, doing the same thing again and again expecting a different outcome is madness. So, for anyone with a spirited firecracker, who’s tick is ticking to a different tock, here’s where we’re at with a diagnosis, or – as I’ve come to prefer it – ‘description’. After all, a diagnosis tends to imply something’s wrong and it’s not that there’s something ‘wrong’ with Hugo, it’s just that he’s different to the ‘norm’.
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Clad in cashmere, a fresh-face cleansed with La Prairie and a Mulberry Mitzy slung over my shoulder. I looked the epitome of ‘success’. But what lurked beneath the glossy exterior was insatiably eating away at my marriage, my career and my sanity.
Addiction wasn’t supposed to look this good!
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