Sunday Thoughts: The Art of Sitting Still (When the Mind is Running)

 

Dear diary,

It’s a new normal Sunday for me.

Usually, the world tells you that Sundays are for resetting, for planning the week ahead, or for going out on big family adventures. But if you’ve been following this blog for a while—or if you live with a disability or chronic illness yourself—you know that our calendars don't always look like everyone else's.

Today, my calendar just says: Rest.

I’m sitting here with a cup of tea (the third one? possibly the fourth), listening to the hum of the house. The washing machine is doing its thing in the background—a sound that always grounds me—, and I am trying, really trying, to listen to my body.

Living with Cerebral Palsy (CP) is a constant negotiation. It’s a daily board meeting between what my brain wants to do and what my body is actually willing to permit. Lately, the physical side of things has been loud. There have been twinges in my neck, pain in my foot, and that heavy, familiar fatigue that feels like wearing a coat made of lead.

In the past, I would have fought this. I would have sat here feeling guilty, looking at the dust motes dancing in the light, thinking about all the things I should be doing. I would have worried that I wasn’t being consistent enough, or loud enough, or "productive" enough.

But I’m learning that there is a difference between being "productive" and being "creative."

Because even though I am physically sitting still—because the CP demands it today—my mind is travelling at a hundred miles an hour. That is the strange, beautiful contradiction of this life. The body might be parked in the slow lane, but the imagination is racing down the motorway.

That’s actually how my latest book came to be.

You might have seen that Book 4 is finally out in the wild. It’s on Amazon now, sitting there with its shiny cover, available for anyone to read. It feels strange to say it’s "done." For months, those poems were my constant companions. They were the scribbles made in waiting rooms, the notes typed out on my phone in the middle of the night when sleep wouldn't come, and the thoughts that kept me company when I was stuck in a chair, unable to move much else.

Now that it’s out, the standard advice is to push it. Market it. Shout about it. Post about it every hour.

But that’s not really the "Sweetestmoondust" way, is it?

The book is out there. It exists. It is a branch of this tree, but it isn’t the whole tree. The tree is this—the reality of a Sunday where the biggest achievement is managing the pain levels and keeping the peace.

And besides, my brain has already moved on.

Even as I sit here nursing this tea, guarding my energy, I can feel the spark of something new starting to catch. It’s the "writer’s curse"—you finish one project, and before the ink is even dry, the next idea starts tapping on your shoulder. I’m already plotting the next thing. I won’t say too much yet (mostly because it’s still a chaotic mess of notes and daydreams), but it’s there.

It reminds me that resilience isn't always about fighting the current. Sometimes, resilience is just floating.

So, if you are reading this and feeling guilty because you aren’t "hustling" today, or because your body has forced you to stop when you wanted to go—please, take a breath with me.

You are allowed to just be. You are allowed to let the washing machine provide the soundtrack to your day. You are allowed to let your creative work be a quiet stream rather than a flood.

I am going to finish this tea. I am going to rest my neck. And I am going to let the new ideas bubble away quietly in the background while I do absolutely nothing else.

Thank you for being here, and for reading the branches of my story.

With love (and plenty of tea),

💓

A Journey Through Time: Finding Strength in Love and Adversity

As I sit down to write this diary blog post, I find myself reflecting on a journey that began in the most unexpected of places—a local leisure center. It was there, as a late teen, that I met the person who has been my rock for more than two decades, my beloved spouse. At the time, I was still trying to find my way in life, grappling with the challenges that come with youth and uncertainty, not to mention battling undiagnosed clinical depression. 

A Supportive Partner 

During those formative years, I was not only searching for my path but also wrestling with the profound question of why I had been given the condition of Cerebral Palsy. While I understood the medical explanations, I couldn't help but ponder the spiritual significance behind it. Despite these internal battles, my partner remained steadfast, offering unwavering support and love that helped me through the darkest times. 

Building a Life Together 

In those early years, I trained as a business assistant, during which I encountered the harsh realities and prejudices that people with disabilities often face. Despite the negativity, my partner and I pressed on, eventually buying a house after four years together. Ten months later, we were married, embarking on a honeymoon that symbolized the beginning of a shared journey filled with hope and love. 

Challenges and Growth 

Our home became a place of laughter, learning, and growth over the next 23 years. Though we faced the disappointment of being unable to have children early on, we found joy in each other and in the experiences we shared. I worked as a customer service assistant for three years, a role that brought both satisfaction and challenges. Yet, like many couples, we navigated the early stages of our life together with resilience and optimism.

The Battle with Mental Health 

Life, however, is rarely without its trials. After my stint at the local store, I decided to pursue a career as a business assistant, only to find myself in a difficult work environment that exacerbated my struggles with mental health. At 30, I was officially diagnosed with clinical depression and general anxiety disorder, marking the beginning of another battle—this time, with my mind. 

Through it all, the unwavering support of my spouse has been my anchor. Together, we have faced life's challenges with courage and love, continuously learning and growing alongside one another. This journey has taught me that while we may not always understand the reasons behind our struggles, we can find strength in the love and support of those we hold dear. 

Each day, I am reminded of the resilience that lies within us all and the profound impact that love and understanding can have on our lives. As we continue forward, I am grateful for the journey we've shared and the future that awaits.

Clinical Depression With Cerebral Palsy

Cerebral palsy is my main disability but as I have mentioned for me clinical depression is one of my secondary health concerns.

More often than that though it is the feelings because of my disability that cause me more problems.

It causes me to feel like I can't be bothered to write or anything. I can't even read or watch TV. Sometimes I eat as much as possible or nothing at all. Which in turn makes me feel guilty for not doing anything. This means that it often is a vicious cycle and why I have not written much.

The move and settling in to my new house has caused some unforeseen problems physically with my body and cerebral palsy which is why I have not written as much as I would have liked or needed to make this site professional or financially respectful. 

However I don't do it for the money, I do it for the chance to teach people about life with cerebral palsy and what comes along with it. So in the next series of posts I will be going through how both bits affect me. I hope you get information about how one or both affect my life. And maybe understand both or just one of the conditions. I hope you learn or understand a bit more about life with cerebral palsy and what comes along for me.