Lets talk: Incontinence.

My entire life I’ve had a problem with peeing myself. I NEVER peed in a bath not even as a toddler. I think that now, I just have a real issue with peeing anywhere bar a toilet- so I HATE when I have to use a bedpan in hospital or a catheter or even a commode Peeing in Priscilla ( my commode) i have back at mums affected me more than I ever really discussed and I have no real way of explaining why.

2015, when my seizures started to worsen, I started to have seizure incontinence. I peed myself more than once. A long story short my confidence went almost completely, so my mum brought me some tena lady pants. At the time I felt so embarrassed. I didn’t want anyone to know. I wear incontinence pants every day. Its not always Tena ladies even though they are my favourite brand I also use depends and I also like some other brands but this isnt a review or comparison post, though that’s coming soon.

I remember feeling so ashamed of myself. Until eventually after talking to some very special people. I realised that actually, it was nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about.  I did a post about tena ladies and a bit about my journey with peeing myself 2 years ago now, and its my most popular post. since that post I get emails every single day from people like me, who have a form of incontinence, reaching out to get advice on different types or brands of incontinence pads, or sometimes its just needing to talk to someone who gets it.

I’m not ashamed of myself anymore. With all i’ve been through these past few years, I think I lost my dignity too many times that I dont give a Shite ( shite is another thing I’ll be talking about further down the post ).

Incontinence. Its often considered a dirty word. A taboo subject. something for behind closed doors or whispered conversations.

But WHY?

WHY is it something to be ashamed of?

I watched loose women a little while ago and they were talking about stree incontinence. Which isnt what I have, but the GORGEOUS kaye adams (i am like one of her and Nadia Sawalhas biggest fans if you didnt know)  said about people having issues with the word Incontinence, that its a word that people dont like, and that we should call it a wee problem. Which I actually love. Its the ultimate pun. “A wee problem”

But the thing is she is so true. People hate the word incontinence. its whispered. Even people that i love dearly in my life SSSH me if i start talking about incontinence in public. Or they tell me to save it for private conversations behind closed doors. But WHY?

WHY is incontinence a dirty word? WHY is it a topic only for whispered conversation?

YES ok its embarrassing at times if I come back round from a seizure and I’ve peed or shat myself.

Because, YES, sometimes inconitence isnt pee. It can be poop too. Or both. And yes i have experienced this too. I’ve had a bad seizure and woken up in my own shite and pee. Wearing the inco pants helps more than i  can explain. it not only helps to contain it but it also means if it im in public im normally not as badly covered as i would be without it.

Inco pads are also handy to sit on in cars chairs and to put under the bed sheets.

Im getting annoyed writing this post.

Because its making me think of all the nastyness that ive had about my incontinence from other people. And how many people contact me and tell me about how people have treated them regarding this issue. Its disgusting.

My incontinence ,its out of my control.

Its not my fault. And yet sometimes when I’m talking about it  a few people will roll their eyes or ssh me, they make me feel like it IS my fault. Like i should be ashamed of myself for it happening and even more ashamed of myself for talking about it.

IT NEEDS TO BE TALKED ABOUT.

Its more common than people think.
Im not a convicted criminal discussing my crimes.

IM JUST A WOMAN WITH INCONTINENCE SO WHY ARE YOU SSHING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT IT!

I genuinely want to know, WHY is incontinence taboo? WHY is it such a bad word?!

So please. Email or Comment if you have an answer

and please continue to email and get in touch if you need to talk about anything with someone who gets it. Especially if its about Peeing yourself. Because mate do I know what its like.

Over and Out  TICers

 

Lana

 

 

 

 

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The New Inconsiderate Cripple.

I’m Back.

I know I know.

I’ve said this before.

But seriously.

I’m back.

There’s been SO much happening this year that blogging became something I had to put on hold until things were sorted.

Things are still hectic.

Theres so much going on in my private life – I wish I could tell you all but I cant as its private for a reason.

HOWEVER I am back, and there is a lot I do plan on telling you, and a lot that is yet to come.

I say I’m BACK, really, I’m not because back would mean that the old me has returned.

That’s not the case.

I’m a new me.

I have a kind of new life.

I have my mojo back.

I have a new found confidence.

So,

Hi.

I’m Lana. and I am the inconsiderate Cripple. Aka TIC / LanaTIC. (which is very fitting as I’m often referred to as a loon/lunatic).

welcome back to my world TICers (thats a term a few of you came up with a little while ago, I love it personally. what do you think?! and how would you pronounce it… ticer as in nicer, or ticer as in ticker?)

See you Soon. Very soon.

L

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what do you want?

Just what the title suggests.

what do you want to read on this blog?

also any video suggestions are greatly appreciated.

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A letter to Sally. Aka a letter to my old epic kickarse teacher. ( I’m not calling her old just as an fyi/ back track before she kills me)

You often hear of the unsung heroes of the NHS.

I often tweet about it.

But today I want to write about MY unsung hero of the education system. A teacher like no other.

Before that I want to talk about something.

A little while ago it was suggested that I write (on the blog or privately) letters to people who have inspired me and/or helped me over the years, to help with not only my mental health ( I was told to think of the letters like a thank you bucket list) but also to help with keeping my brain active and helping my brain fog etc.

So I made a list of several people who over the years have inspired me. Obvious people such as my parents, my family and my friends, medical team etc are on the list, I even have some random people on there too, but a fair amount of the people I want to eventually write to, are in fact, my old Teachers. Teachers in school & college, My choir teachers etc. All feature on this list. As does teacher assistants and support teams etc. I’ve only written a few. And I haven’t done anything with them yet. But I will.

One teacher in particular had a spot on the top of my list, Her name in bold letters and underlined not once not twice but three times.

I knew that this  “letter” (essay) was one that would be quite lengthy. And one that at first I decided I would write and then keep private. That I wouldn’t actually send to her because a)shes a busy woman and B) its cringy and mushy and she might think at firs tim blowing smoke up her arse or something. . But I saw this woman today and I realised that actually I DO need to put it somewhere.
Even if she choses not to read it (she’s the worlds busiest woman so I wouldn’t be offended).

I wanted to put it on a page so others could see the utter awesomeness that is Sally.

Its not a letter as such this post. Not till the end. So feel free to skip down. But I wanted to collect my thoughts and SPLURGE on the page.

November 2012. I went to the open evening at college. I wasn’t going to go. I changed my mind at the last minute. I went in the food and nutrition/health room and there she was. Sally. And at first she bloody terrified me. I walked in to that room and I was terrified. The college already seemed like a whole other world but honestly, it felt like I was walking in to alien territory. A different teacher gave me a leaflet on health and social care. But sally terrified me by asking me what I wanted to study and what I wanted to do with my life. If I remember rightly it came out like “arghy nurse or arghhyyyeacher or uuurmrmmmmmmm” because she looked at me, raised eyebrow, with what I later nicknamed the “what the fuck are you on” look.

Fast forward to February. I had my interview with a woman named judy where she offered me a place.

Fast forward again to the July. My first day (it was an induction day/taster day thing). I. WAS. PETRIFIED. I remember telling Nat how terrified I was and she laughed and call me a “fucking wuss” and told me to grow some boobs (not balls. Because boobs were more powerful apparently- yeah, I asked why she said boobs and my natnat gave me an hour lecture on feminism.) She also said to me, “lanaloo. You can do this. You know why? Because your MY lanaloo. I love you but I’ll love you even more when you get to go to college tomorrow and tell me how it went and what projects I’ll be helping you with. Especially food.”
So off I went, on my crutches, also a side note, at this point aside from my pots (which at that point wasn’t confirmed) And my dodgy knee injury (which turned out to be eds related but we didn’t know I actually had eds at that point either just that I had Hypermobilty), I was relatively healthy.

Its funny, in typical lana fashion one of the first things I did that day was spill a chocolate milkshake down myself and drip it through the bloody sports hall.  My coat was caked in bloody chocolate milk.

I went to the taster session for a few different subjects. But I think I knew instantly when I walked in to the room that I wanted to do both Food & Nutrition and Health & Social care.  (I also chose English and sociology if you’re curious)

Sally stood there and asked each person what they wanted to do and essentially why they were in that room.

She went one by one around the room. And then suddenly she looked at me expectantly and I must have looked insane because I instantly felt the need to stick my tongue out and before I knew it I did just that and bit hard on my tongue as I panicked.

I’m hoping to this day that she didn’t notice and she doesn’t remember – to be fair I think if she remembered or noticed she probably would have taken the piss out of me for it by now.

Anyway I told her that my name was ALANA ( I thought if I said Lana she might think I was being too informal or something as all paperwork said ALANA) ,

I wanted to be a nurse (and I gave her a reason WHY I wanted to be a nurse ) but if it didn’t work out I also had an interest in teaching, secondary school teaching. I also gave her reasons WHY I wanted to study BOTH subjects she talked about in that room.

She smiled- and it was the first time she had smiled that widely in the session and I was again TERRIFED because she looked scary as fuck to me at first and to see her smiling that big of a smile just made me think “oh shit shes smiling because shes going to kick my arse out of this room in a second”.

She didn’t kick my arse out thankfully.

Instead  she continued to smile and asked me what my name was again.

I sat in that room looking at pictures on the wall and then she talked about the Tanzania project and I sat and was honest to god FASCINATED with it. I sat there and I took it all in thinking what an amazing thing this college is doing.

Fast forward to September. I started college. (Also just as another side note nat did indeed help me with my various projects that summer. I would sit there and she’d pick out all of my spelling and punctuation mistakes. And even when her speech started to decline, she’d hit my arm and go LOOK AT IT and she’d tap my screen and go USE YOUR FUCKING EYES. )

I got put in to Sally’s tutor group.

Within two weeks, I thought , you know what ? this woman is BAD ASS and anyone who says otherwise is lying.

One thing you must all know about Sally is she doesn’t take shit. If you work hard and put in the effort than you’re fine. If you go to her class and want to doss about you’re out the door faster than you can say “Queen of the spoons”.

I then realised that although she terrified me at first. She was actually ok. She wasn’t so scary when you got talking to her. (don’t get me wrong though I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her even now!)

Fast forward a little more and things were going ok. I was meeting my deadlines and working my arse off.

But then my episodes got slightly more frequent, my immune system turned to shit. And ofcourse Nat’s health also declined at this point.

I felt like the world was moving 10 times faster than it actually was.

Despite things getting me down, I threw myself in to my college work. The only members of staff that knew what was happening in my private life were Sally, and my health teacher at the time.

I remember one day in particular leaving my sociology room, telling my teacher that I needed to go to the toilet. Walking past sallys room, and she popped her head out and said “are you ok poppet”.   I just nodded. I didn’t want to tell her I felt sick, and that I was feeling worse each day, the tiredness and the pain slowly starting to affect me. I didn’t tell ANYONE that not even nat. But sally? she looked at me like she knew. That I couldn’t fool her.

I walked down the stairs went to the toilets and I was sick (neatly in the bowl may I add- its like a party trick i acquired even then. I’m a neat puker!).  I felt like shit. But I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to be anywhere else at that point in time. College was giving me a focus. I walked up the stairs and I carried on with my day like nothing happened.

The next morning I sat on my favourite bench outside. And I wrote in my diary that I kept at the time something that I actually want to put some of it in this post/letter (I can’t put it all on there as I went in to a rant about someone else) . “ I think this pots thing is getting worse. My episodes are getting worse. We don’t have any treatment plans yet. The doctors don’t seem to care. I don’t want to tell mum but I feel really ill. I think its probably where I need to try harder with my fluid and salt thing. Nats not doing well. She’s home again. Sally asked me how she was – that was nice of her she doesn’t even know nat but she’s asking. She also asked me how I was. I said I was fine. She said “no you’re not you can keep saying you are till you’re blue in the face”.  Weird saying that is. Blue in the face. I feel red in the face is more of a likely outcome to be honest. She looks at me like she can see my soul its quite unnerving. Its like her glasses are bloody laserbeams or something. “

That little extract of my diary from back then cracks me up. Because it reminds me of how even then she seemed to know me better than I realised. ( and I made her out to be some sort of super hero with the laserbeam glasses – superman move over theres a new hero on the block!  )

Fast forward to November 2013. I went to Austria for like 3 days. I came home and uli rang and told me that  nat wasn’t doing too good. So I emailed Sally over that weekend , Not expecting a reply. And do you know what? She replied and told me to keep her updated.

At this point I felt like my head was in a washing machine. I didn’t tell anyone this. But it really did feel like everything was just going round and round.  Then as the week progressed things got worse. And I just threw myself in to my coursework more.

The day nat passed away when I got the news I was in my English lesson. And my teacher told me how sorry she was.  That I should go home. Or go to see sally or just take a minute or do whatever I wanted to do ( I think she was more shocked and upset than I was and she didn’t even really know me at that point let alone knew about nat)

I went for a walk , rang my dad to tell him and came back and sat at my desk staring at my paper which was about nigella Lawson (don’t ask) and kept thinking “please don’t tell me to go home.” I didn’t want to go back knowing she wasn’t the otherside of the living room wall.

When it was the end of the lesson I walked out of the room in silence, ignoring my teacher shouting after me to see if I waws ok. And I walked down the stairs to find jack and some other special people. They walked with me to Sallys room. Where she looked at me and I calmly said “I just wanted to tell you Nat died and I don’t know what to do”.
it was then that I knew she had really started to get me. She didn’t tell me how sorry she was. She just looked at me and said “I think you should go home as it’s a bereavement but its your choice, either way send me an email please. We’ll talk on Wednesday or maybe tomorrow .” I left the room and I checked my phone to see if the message was still there. To see if it was still real. And I checked my email to see my lesson for the afternoon was cancelled anyway. So I signed out and went home. Jack and co walked me to the bus stop. And I remember thinking “Why can’t I cry. Why are there no tears. My best friend has died. Theres no tears”.

I emailed sally on the bus. And I told her I was going home. That I’d email later.

The next day I didn’t go to college. I emailed in. She said “I’ll see you tomorrow”.

That night, uli asked me if at the funeral I could say something in front of everyone.

I went in to college the next day and the only lesson I had was with sally.

I walked in, early like I always was and I didn’t say a word. Normally I’d say hello. But I couldn’t.

I carried on as normal until everyone had left and she asked me if I was ok. I sat and three things came out of my mouth at super speed. “I can’t cry yet. I want things to be normal. oh And they want me to talk at the funeral.”

She just smiled at me. And then she gave me some coursework advice.

It was then that I REALLY realised she was the best teacher I’ve ever had.

She had listened to me. She got it.

She knew that whatever she said wouldn’t make me feel anything different. And thank I needed normality.  She really listened.

I was one out of thousands of students and yet she listened to me, took the time to listen and for that I will always be grateful.

Fast forward some more. I kept going and going and going until I burnt out… and my body decided that just after Christmas was a good time to throw a hissy fit.

My health declined.

I wasn’t in a good place.

It was like the light at the end of the tunnel was hidden by smog.

February 2014 I had a meeting with sally. And I left college. But before I left she said to me “don’t you dare give up. Get better. Don’t become lazy. Do some health and social prep. Email me. Keep in touch. Come back stronger. And I’ll see you in September.”

I returned in the September and although things were tough for me health wise I really did try.

I got AS levels.

Then I left.

But in the years between returning and leaving for good. Sally , although no longer my tutor, was a rock. She set me challenges. She knew the best ways to get me motivated and she knew how to push my buttons to make me excel. I even went and did some volunteering at a care home  which I loved and I pushed myself to make the most of what was a bit of a shit situation.

I amused her with my walking stick fairylights, my slightly strange choice of hats, and I even ended up teaching HER something new (how to make a Christmas tree out of a book)

I knew If I had a problem she was there.

I knew if I was struggling and she could help she would.

She helped by when I was going through some really REALLY bad stuff she found the funny sides of it all with me! ( and loves my nickname of TT/ ticking time bomb 😉, also actually very relevant as im a bit of a Tithead (say tt aloud) )

That’s the amazing thing about this woman. She’s the busiest woman you could meet.

She juggles a million and one things.

But she still takes the time to listen.  And if she CAN do something, she will.

Shes incredible.

She gets the best out of every student. How I don’t even know.

I’ve never met a woman who is so determined and hardworking and incredible at their profession.

She is truly inspirational.

She makes a difference.

Shes not perfect but she doesn’t ever pretend to be  and I think that’s why shes so cool.

She works hard at her job and as long as you work hard too you’ll see that shes an amazing teacher and she doesn’t see her students as a number in a system.  She sees you as a person with potential. And she will do everything she can to help you reach that potential. To see you fly.  (as long as you’re not lazy and trying to make a fool of her she’ll kick you out on your arse if you  do that i saw that happen once!!).
I didn’t become a nurse. And I haven’t yet become a teacher. But I do help some people with my blog, with my conferences I talk at.

My goals have changed. My perspective on life different.

Sally was actually the one who told me I should blog. And who encouraged me to start this. And said I’d chosen the perfect name when I told her what that old lady had said to me that day.  So I owe this woman a lot.

For a while I lost sight of my purpose but I think I’ve found it again.  I’m determined to make a difference in the world.  Even if its only to one person.

Because one person made a difference to me. I hope that I can make her proud by making as big of a difference myself one day.

Teachers are one of the most underappreciated people. You constantly hear people say “its cushty to be a teacher you get the 6 weeks holiday, you get good hours, good pay”. But what you don’t often hear is this – GOOD teachers work their arses off, they work beyond the hours of the school day they spend the holidays prepping and marking and working hard at home and they don’t often get the recognition they deserve.

I realised that today, when sally said something about how surprised she is when people give stuff to her for the Tanzania project. That she doesn’t need to ask people anymore.

And I can’t really talk for everyone but I can talk for myself.

Sally. I like to do what I can to help  your Tanzania stuff because it means we’re helping you. And I see how proud and happy and inspired you are when you talk about the project. And its beyond a worthwhile thing.  Knowing we’re helping YOU making a difference to the people in Tanzania means that we’re giving something back to you. The woman who in different ways made a difference  to us. Be it you changed the lazy kids attitudes in to hardworking ones, or that you listened to the crisis of certain students (and read their emails about steps and sclub ).  You don’t treat your students like a statistic. You treat them like individuals and you help them find their purpose and their passion. You make a difference. And in me , you  helped me see that no matter what happens im not a failure even though I felt like one, and that I can find other ways to help people. You helped me find my sparkle again without you even realising. In listening to me and guiding me you changed things for me and made sure I didn’t give up on myself. You made a difference and for that I will always be grateful.

When I think of the name sally. I think of 5 things. One jack and sally from one of my favourite films – night mare before Christmas (that SONG!). Two- teachers  – not just you , I had a teacher in secondary school with the same name she was alright too!. Three Sally morgan. My favourite medium. Four and five is more specific to you. I think of Kick arseness (if that’s a word) and five- I think of LOVEEEEE …LY MEMORIES 😉

And whilst the rest of  the world may not realise that in a sussex college theres a teacher who is a kick ass woman changing students lives in both sussex and Tanzania. We know. And we appreciate you. Even if none of us say it enough.  Thank you for being our teacher those years ago. And thank you for being you even now.
You’re amazing Sally miller.

And although this whole post is cringey as fuck. I think it needed to be said.

Thank you. I mean it.

OH And if you’re ever passing crawley and want a cup of coffee (the decent coffee don’t worry) and a chat..? call me up!

See you again at some point. I might even get around to making you that folded paper fish mobile by then.

But until then –

Thank you.

p.s. LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU  and I know you don’t do selfies often but we need a new selfie for my memory book because in the old one I had a million chins and really shitty hair. Next time I’ll bring my polaroid 😉

PPS sorry it turned in to an essay.

Love from Lana / TT.

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Re-usable Toilet Paper -10 Questions Answered

So – surprisingly the majority of feedback I got  from you lot after my first post about the reusable toilet roll/ “family” cloth was POSITIVE?!

Understandably, you had a fair few questions, so here’s a post attempting to answer all your questions about How I deal with Sh*t… it will be TMI you’ve been warned.

  1. what IS a reusable toilet paper made of ?

Its essentially a piece of cloth. (the majority of mine are cotton terry cloth squares. But some are other materials). Its just a square of material, you wipe, store then wash, and RE USE when clean and the cycle continues.

2. How do you prepare them for use?

I use the Cheeky wipes system currently, so I wash them, put them in the blue box with water and essential oils ( i use mandarin oil), drain the water, give them a squeeze and they’re ready to go! – but i will be experimenting with other systems soon.

3. But HOW do you wash them?

Ok so if theyre particularly ‘poopy’ then jet spray them with the shower head (Cold water not hot or the stains will set)  But if not and theres no for want of better words “lumps” on the cloth, then they can go straight in the washing machine with the meshbag, insert that is in the green “mucky” box Cold rinse to start, then a nice hot wash. I tend to do a cold rinse, followed by a hotter wash with my eco egg.

4. Do they smell?

Nope! As long as you change the water regularly and add the essential oils and wash them properly and regularly!

5. Don’t they STAIN?

Mine are a funny colour because i made the mistake of washing them with dark colours. but in terms of actual poop or pee stains NO they have not stained, but every so often I do chuck a scoop of vanish gold oxi in the detergent drawer, which keeps them even more “white”.

6. Do you have to touch Poop *shudders*???

I can honestly say that after the amount of times I’ve had to deal with poop the past few years with everything thats gone on with me – that and sorting my godchilds nappies- poop does not phase me. however for some i know this is a huge issue. I can hand on heart say that I have not had to physically touch the poop on my cloth wipes, even when I’ve jet sprayed them.  HOWEVER and this is TMI but if you know me, you know I dont give a Sh*t (pun intended) – I found more issues with disposable regular toilet paper and touching poop than I have my cloth paper! Some toilet paper is so cheap and fragile that it splits and that Sh*t is NASTY when it splits or worse gets stuck.
So in terms of this, i think cloth paper is far superior. There. I said it.

I just realised that im as fussy as my uncle bob is with toilet paper. woaaah.

7. WHAT ABOUT WHEN YOU’RE ON YOUR PERIOD?

Again you can still use cloth paper on your period, it doesn’t stain. IT IS FINE. Again, if anything its BETTER! No toilet paper stuck to your froo!

8. Do you use normal toilet paper too?

Sometimes! the reason  I switched was mainly because of the allergic reactions i was having to normal toilet paper, but since switching, im fine, and I can use the regular toilet paper occasionally without the same extreme reactions as before! I did experiment and did a whole week back on regular toilet paper – the reactions came back with a vengeance so I can 100% say that I will always be using cloth paper at least 75% of the time for the foreseeable!

EDIT : 12/3/18 – currently using normal toilet paper because ive just moved house and the washing machine doesnt arrive till today and doesnt get plumbed in till the weekend

9. What washing powder or stain remove do you use?

I use an eco egg, and occasionally throw in a scoop of vanish gold in or even sometimes leave it out in the sun – the sun is an amazing natural stain remover.

10. Is it money saving?

I didn’t go in to this cloth malarkey to save money – but i imagine it DOES save money.  it certianly is worth it to ME even if it doesnt save much in terms of cost, it saves my poor arse from a nasty allergic reaction!

An updated post about “family cloth” is coming super soon and if anyone has any more questions leave them below or email!

L

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IM BACK

Good morning TICERS  (what do we think about this new nickname?  a few of you called yourself a ticer so I thought I’d run with it!)

So I’m back.

This time I’m back Back.

*sings takethat*

Quick little life update…

I’VE MOVED OUT!

Its been about  a year in the planning.

It was for my own safety and my health as my parents house was no longer suitable for me – especially after the whole stairs incident.

So moving on from the moving out thing and going back to what this post is about…

I’m back

I’m back to blogging

And now i’ve moved you can expect more blog posts and also a vlog or two (when i unpack my tripod etc…)

If you’ve any blog or video requests please let me know!

Thank you for being patient with me

L x

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Letters to Natalie: Your Birthday, Music, and Christmas

*As always- if you want to read the other letters to nat, you can find them on the blog somewhere*

Dear NatNat,

Writing to you is becoming something I barely go a day without doing now. 90% of the time I just write them on my computer and never re-read them or do anything with them. But sometimes I put them on here. I’m not always sure why. Sometimes I feel like doing a whole separate blog just filled with letters to you, but then I have enough going on without having TWO blogs on the go!

I re-listened to some of the songs on one of our many playlists last night.

I had completley forgotten That Josh Groban “To where you are”  was on there.

And as soon as it played I couldnt help but smile. ” I feel you all around me
Your memory’s so clear “.   Its so frigging true.

Josh grobans music is always beautiful. But when I listen to certain songs that you made me add to our playlists, well it just makes them that much more special.

I’ve gone pinkyred and purple again (my hair not my skin, I’m not holding my breath whilst typing or anything stupid) – Its B R I G H T. You’d  love it.

It was no secret that you loved christmas. You’d have been so pissed off with me this year though. We didn’t have a tree this year. BUT we did decorate PisscillaPriscilla (my commode) with tinsel, so surely that counts for something?!!

Today would’ve been your 38th Birthday.  Happy Birthday My beautiful Bestfriend.

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Its so weird to think in a few days 2017 will be over. And then we go in to 2018, a year that I’m actually excited for.

I started writing my yearly post of reflection, and I couldnt help but think about what you’d be saying about my appalling grammar skills. It took me back to the times I’d sit next to you and you’d wack my hand away from my keyboard and point at the screen and go “ERRRRM” at whatever bit of coursework was in front of me.

Writing this years reflection, I write a bit about making the most of every moment.
That’s something I can hand on heart say we did. The time we had together was not long, but we made memories constantly. Even toward the end. And for that I’m grateful.

Someone asked me the over day who you were (whilst pointing to my necklace). And everytime I get asked that I can’t help but smile as I say “Natalie. My BestFriend.” Then if they ask more questions, I tell them your story.

Now I’m 20, people dont seem to ask the question they used to. “But the age gap…?”. The age gap was nothing really. Because you  said I had an old soul, that I was actually an old granny in a 16 year olds body… and you were just you 😉

I can’t have an alcoholic beverage today. I havent had one in a while now.

But I’ll have one for you soon Nat.

No doubt you’re having a few up there.

I miss you.

I love you always.

Your LanaLoo.

xxx

 

 

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