I've been toying with the idea of starting a blog for ages, but always seemed to find a myriad of reasons to put it off. I suppose the main reason is fear - fear of exposure, ridicule, flaming (that always seems terrifying) or really being too up my own arse and inflicting hideous rambling upon any poor unfortunates that may accidentally stumble upon said blog.
Anyway, I think I've put it off for too long. I have been following my good friend, Laura, on AWNTYM since the beginning and also dipping in and out of other blogs along the way and have felt inspired and intimidated by turn. It's time to take the plunge and see how it feels to put myself out there. *dips toe*
I've always loved writing but never managed to keep a diary for more than a month at a time - it always felt too artificial and I never felt I was being honest with my feelings. I hope I can be more honest here, otherwise there seems little point to it. I don't think I would have started this if it weren't for my experiences over the past two years or so, which have fundamentally changed me.
I am a happily-cohabiting mother of one lovely, happy, funny 5 year old boy and he is the light of my life. This blog is for him as much as it is for me - it is hopefully going to tell him, in years to come, what his mummy was like when he was small, how much joy he has brought into my life and what fun we have together. I know this sounds schmaltzy and alarmingly navel-gazy, but there is another reason and this is hard to type.
I was diagnosed with Grade 3 breast cancer in November 2oo7 at the ripe young age of 33 and had to go through the whole nasty cancer 'journey' of surgery, chemo, baldy head, radiotherapy, etc, etc, etc. There is much behind this neat encapsulation of the 'journey' (I hate that word!) but I am currently well, over a year out of treatment and free of cancer as far as I know. I'm getting back to normal, although it definitely is a new kind of normal and I'm adjusting as I go.
My little boy was three when I was diagnosed and my overwhelming fear throughout the whole thing has been the fact that one day I'll not be there because of this awful disease and that when he needs me most, I'll be gone. I am not a doom-monger, but a brush with mortality when you have a small child is utterly terrifying and can send even the most well-adjusted sorts into the darkest realms of imagination and all the way back again.
So this blog is for O. I am going to write for him and for me and hopefully in years to come, we'll be reading this together and cringing and laughing and crying in turn at what's been written. And if I'm not there - I hope that what I have written gives him a picture of who I am right now, how much I love him and something more than photographs and memories to remind him of our happy times together.
I now feel utterly melodramatic, have made myself cry and can't believe how much this blog mentions the word FEAR. I promise (myself mainly - and O too) that this blog will not be a litany of misery and moaning. I think I had to get this off my chest - let's see where this takes me. I have no idea how it is all going to pan out!
I do have to go and do some productive household tasks before I pick O up from school. We're off to his friend's house for tea tonight which will be a nice surprise for him - ah, the pleasure of being five and a half!