📖 July Diary: The Price of a Memory

 

Dear Diary

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how our definitions of "luxury" change as we grow. When I was a kid, luxury was the smell of the ferry engine and the salt air on the way to France. It was those rare, special trips when the family had the money to go away together, and the world felt huge, exciting, and completely different.

But life has a way of refocusing your lens. Between navigating life with CP and the long, hard years of managing Stage 4 Endometriosis, my "luxury" looks different now.

It isn't a stamp in a passport anymore. It’s the relief of seeing a ramp at the front door. It’s a wet room that doesn't feel like a battleground. It’s the quiet peace of knowing I can navigate a space without my body paying the price for it the next day.

The Cornwall Pull France was the big family treat, but Cornwall... Cornwall is my roots. It’s the family staple. I was thinking today about Gyllyngvase Beach in Falmouth and Fistral. There’s something about that coastline that settles my soul.

When I was taking my own kids away, the "luxury" I looked for was the ability to be a Mum first and a patient second. I chose the UK holiday parks not because I didn't want the world, but because I needed the hoist, the widened doors, and the level access that allowed me to actually be there with them, rather than just surviving the trip.

I still dream of those family trips to the French coast sometimes, but I’ve learned that a memory made at a rainy Cornwall beach is worth just as much, as long as I have the accessibility to actually make it.

A note for my Global Sweethearts: Whether you’re looking at the rugged cliffs of Cornwall or the coast of France, your luxury is your access. In the UK, we have some gems like the sand-friendly wheelchairs at Gyllyngvase, but I know many of you have your own local "safe havens" in your own countries. Treasure them.