On the eve of beginning a new job, having finally unpacked (almost) all of my stuff in my new place, and sporting a new hairdo to boot, I’m in a reflective mood.

The five year anniversary of The Boy’s stroke was a milestone, a difficult one. At times it seemed it crystallised my failure to work a miracle. I hadn’t thought of the task as miraculous but that anniversary made it so.

I still believe in miracles by the way.

The key word though, is failure. For five years I have felt, at times, that I failed him. And through failing him I had failed my children. I should have been able to rebuild what we had. I certainly thought I was capable of it.

So the anniversary was a low point.

Since then, much has changed. I’ve moved house and now have all my things around me once again.
I’ve cut my hair. Anyone who has done that knows it’s not trivial.
And I’m beginning a new job. Working in a very young company with people who are full of passion and enthusiasm.

These three changes were decisions I made completely on my own. The first life decisions I have ever made alone. 

Each one was a leap.

I may be unhappy in my house, hate my hair, and hate the job even more.

I don’t care. I made those decisions and that’s what makes me realise how far I’ve come. 

I’m learning to have faith in myself.

That has only been made possible by some wonderful people who’ve walked beside me, held my hand and been happy to let it go when I was ready.

I will never, ever be able to explain my gratitude.

I am so very lucky and I thank you all.