Getting Back to Business

A photo from a recent beach trip – before Lockdown 3.0 came into effect in Ireland.

I haven’t written here in a while. And for good reason. After my last post, my world was changed completely. I tried to write about it since but words have eluded me. This evening, as I sat on my bed and felt exhausted from carrying the weight of my worries, I decided that today I would start writing again.

Four months ago, my grandmother died. She and I were extremely close. I know that people will often say this about their families, but she really was like a second mother to me. She admonished me for every little thing – the way I wore my hair, when I’d put on weight, when I was complaining too much about stupid things. But she also was one of my greatest allies, one of my best friends. We could talk about anything. She often gave me some of the best life advice, and lifted me up when I needed it most. She and I laughed so much together all of the time. And now she’s gone. I hadn’t seen her for some time as she was in hospital. Covid-19 had made a huge impact on how much I got to see her, and despite my many efforts trying to teach her how to use Facetime or Whatsapp video calls, she unfortunately couldn’t quite get the hang of it and so I didn’t get to see her as much as I’d liked. The last time I spoke to her on the phone was my birthday. She sounded so exhausted. Two days after that phone call, I found out I was pregnant, and just four days after that, my grandmother died.

To say it was a rollercoaster of emotions would be such an understatement. I never felt so utterly torn in how I felt. I was ecstatic over my baby, and heartbroken over my grandmother. I felt guilty for feeling so happy, and guilty for feeling so sad. Reflecting on the entire situation, I feel like my body didn’t allow me to grieve properly. We’ve just had our first Christmas without my grandmother and it still feels like it hasn’t entirely sunken in. I’m still expecting a phone call to go and get something from the shops, but I know it’ll never come.

Being pregnant is something that I’m enjoying. I’m not glowing, and it isn’t the beautiful, fantastic, Disney-esque walk in the park that the world had led me to believe it would be. It’s tough, and I’ve had a few struggles along the way, but I’m getting there. This year, my world is going to change completely as we welcome our little bundle into the world at the end of the Spring and I’m already feeling a bit trapped within my feelings.

I’ve struggled with anxiety before, and it feels like it’s rearing it’s head again. I’ve spent the last few days crying and feeling quite down, and I want to do what I can to make sure that I don’t find myself falling down the rabbit hole of negativity; so I’ve started walking for 30 mins a day, and I want to write more – to journal really. I was going to grab an old notebook and start putting pen to paper but I find the thoughts flow more freely on the keyboard. There are times when I write, hit post, and panic about over-sharing, being too honest, letting too much of myself out there – but if 2020 has taught us all anything, it’s that we’re all in this together and life is worth living and living openly. So today I’ll press post, and regardless of what I say, or how few people read it, this is my place for me and my thoughts as I try to make my way through 2021 where life as I know it will be turned on it’s head completely.

Let’s make the most of it,


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