It's a strange world this one of blogging and being determinedly positive.
My last blog was positive and informative about our family day out. All went great.
That evening I fell asleep at ten and woke at eleven feeling very sad.
I cried, big heaving sobs for two hours (note to self: this can alarm the husband somewhat!).
I cried like someone had died.
I know how lucky I am. I know I am loved. But the overwhelming feeling was that this is not who I was meant to be at 43 years of age.
Maybe I had died. The "me" that I imagined I was going to be.
I wasn't meant to be the Mum with the diabetic child. That was someone else. Someone who maybe fed their child cola and chicken nuggets from birth. Not me. Just not me.
All I had been led to believe of cause and effect means nothing. Work hard and you'll get a good job, a home, money and a comfortable life. Eat well and you'll be healthy. Breastfeed your baby and give them the best, organic most amazingly right-on food you can and you will give them the best chance of a healthy life.
Life is such a lottery and it all seems to boil down to HOW you react to the cards you are dealt. (I am aware I am crazily mixing metaphors here but hey it's a dodgy, self-indulgent post anyway).
I generally react in a positive and balanced way.
But then I have days of blips where I am inside The Bell Jar, looking out, not really participating but just going through the motions.
I feel ridiculous writing about this. It feels over indulgent in the face of what Frank deals with every day.
Then my wonderful friend Anne texted me yesterday. She had been over with her family on Sunday for brunch and hanging out in the garden. Her text told me I was beautiful and that I was clearly doing a great job with Frank.
In that moment I felt so loved. My hard work and worry validated by this wonderful friend of mine that I met on my very first day at University at the tender age of 18 and who has, luckily, moved to live near me.
My friend that can see what my life now is and is able to buoy me up when she sees the truth in my eyes.
Some people just take away that edge of loneliness you get as a parent of a child with Type 1 diabetes.
Because it is isolating at times. Not many people understand the issues we are dealing with all day, every day, all night, every night.
Parents with the same issues do and so, sometimes, do others.
Maybe I need to be more open to letting others give me respite and solace and be less insular. They may not know exactly what we are going through but they can empathise and show love.
And boy, oh boy, does that help.