I have some explaining to do.
I started this blog in July 2010. 2 and a half years ago, can you believe it? 2 and a half years since my Mum lost her fight with cancer and I started learning about all the things we can do to fight back against it. How to eat better and live healthier, so that we might have more of a chance of slapping a big FUCK YOU in the face of something so intent on destroying us.
It gave me a means of feeling like I had some sort of control over what had happened or what could happen in my own future. And honestly, I’m not sure that I would have got to this point in one piece if I hadn’t have leant so heavily on all of the cancer-fighting stuff. Despite concerned advice from various friends and members of my family, I never had any type of grief counselling throughout the process (unless you count one unrelated half-hour chat whilst doing research for a uni project, during which I almost burst into an embarrassingly unrestrained sobbing fit), but learning about it all became my own form of therapy. Constantly experimenting with ingredients; teaching myself how to cook after years of relying on the microwave, and reading countless articles and blogs about healthy living, became the way I dealt with all of the pain and anger inside my head. It was still there… it just had an outlet.
But over the last few months I’ve found myself become slightly frustrated with it all. I always said that I would keep following it until the moment when I felt as though I was restricting myself. When it stopped being a positive thing in my life, it would have lost it’s reason for being there in the first place.
I recently spent the most incredible week away in Dubai with a friend (if you ever get the chance, just GO, immediately), and while I was there I realised that I had been letting it become a burden. It’s not that I don’t believe in the fact that food really can protect us against disease anymore, because I absolutely do, but thinking about it so much became more of a problem than the solution. I spent an emotional sunset telling my friend that I was worried that letting it go would mean letting the only positive thing that came out of my Mum’s illness go as well. If I didn’t keep fighting back against cancer then what was the point of her dying? What is the reason for her not being here if I’m not going to do anything good because of it? I just… don’t understand anymore.
But then she told me it had already served it’s purpose. It had been something to drag me through the last couple of horrific years. Sometimes we find our strength in the most surprising of places, and if I was feeling like I didn’t need it so much anymore… maybe that was because I’d come through the other side. Maybe I was strong enough to do it myself now.
I cried then – I’m crying now, in fact – because I don’t really know what comes next. I guess this is my way of saying that I probably won’t be posting anymore under this blog. I want to say thank you to everyone that has taken a few minutes out of their day to read everything I’ve written here over the last few years; there have been times when it has been a bigger help than you can possibly imagine. I’ve shared a lot of myself here – all the good, bad and unashamedly embarrassing – and it has put the biggest smile on my face every single time someone has messaged me, or commented to say that they appreciate the thoughts that come tumbling out of my head. I’m sure I’ll be writing somewhere else, because I get far too angsty if I stop writing for too long, but I think that this particular outlet has run it’s course.
It’s not easy, but I need to go figure out where I go from here.
So I’ll catch you later, alligators. In the meantime,