wheels up
Lord Muck at my side, as always. 2002.
One week out from my book launch, I have to confess to being ever so slightly nervous. Well, when I say, ever so slightly nervous, what I really mean is wringing my hands, rocking in a corner, and eating my body weight in chocolate kind of nervous. Waking up in a cold sweat thinking wonderful thoughts: What if people hate it? What if it’s a giant flop? What if I get terrible reviews? What if I have to change my name, shave my head, and flee the country?
And then, I catch myself.
You’ve been through a lot worse than this though, haven’t you?
And you know what, I have.
You see, whilst I grew up in a happy gardening and allotment-mad household that I’ve told you about in previous blog posts…I turned my back on all that in my 20s and 30s. Opting for the city-career-girl life, working like a dog in London and Manchester as a marketing consultant for the likes of Pepsi and Sony. Monday to Friday I was a workaholic. Saturday night an alcoholic. Sunday morning a never-again-aholic. I worked hard. I played harder. The closest link I had to anything green was the vase of dead flowers on my desk.
And somewhere along the way, it all caught up with me. The crazy work hours. The crazier deadlines. The craziest clients. And one day in 1997, I collapsed in a Sainsbury’s car park. I had to be carried to the car by my young husband, Andy, and then up to our bed, neither of us realising it would be 5 years before I would be strong enough to manage a flight of stairs.
Struck down by Severe Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME) which left me little more than a breathing corpse for many years. Bedbound, in a blacked-out room in constant pain, unable to walk, talk, sit, stand, feed, or wash myself. Nursed 24/7 by my beloved husband and our two amazing Mums.
It took me many years to escape that living hell. With several terrifying relapses along the way. Bedpans, wheelchairs, and stairlifts, my new best friends. But I was one of the lucky few to find a way out. So many Severe ME Patients never do.
So, when I find myself stressing about a book launch…
I remember those hellish years trapped in bed in darkness.
I remember being unable to feed myself.
I remember being unable to walk.
I remember the pain in every inch of my body.
I remember seeing the heartache and worry etched on my husband’s face.
And I catch myself.
You’ve been through a lot worse than this though, haven’t you?
And then, I give thanks. Thanks to whoever decided to give me a second chance at this life. And hope that I’ve used it wisely - and created books that will make you smile, whatever might be going on in your life behind the scenes. And hopefully, they will encourage you to get outside too, into your gardens, grabbing second chances as you go.
