Dear Diary,
I was looking at an old photo today from when the twins were seven. It’s strange how the 'chaos' changed back then. We had survived the nappies and the toddler meltdowns, but suddenly my calendar was filling up with things I couldn't physically control.
I call it the 'Invisible Shift.'
It was the era of the school run, the constant buzz of birthday parties, and those long afternoons at the dance studio. On the outside, I was just another mum waiting for her kids, but on the inside, I was constantly calculating my bandwidth—measuring exactly how many steps I had left before my body gave out.
This was when I really learned that my 'maintenance' wasn't a luxury—it was my armour.
Here is what those years really looked like behind the 'I'm fine' smile..." The nature of the struggle changed as they hit seven. We moved from the physical 'doing' to the mental 'managing.' This was the era where they really started to gain independence. They could find their own snacks and, more importantly, they started to see my physical needs without me saying a word. They became my 'little helpers,' naturally closing the gaps because they’d grown up watching me navigate the world differently.
But their social and extracurricular lives exploded.
Every week was a cycle of dance classes, rehearsals, and the high-pressure buildup to exams. I remember the physical challenge of those long waits—sitting on hard plastic chairs in drafty halls, my neck and pelvis screaming for the recliner, while I watched them perfect their steps. The pride of seeing them succeed in those exams was immense, but the 'invisible cost' to my body was real.
Every weekend was a birthday party in a soft-play centre or a house that wasn’t designed for me.
This is where my bandwidth was truly tested. The sensory overload from the parties and the loud music of the dance studios was immense.
I remember leaning heavily into my £20 coffee budget during these years. It wasn't just about the drink; it was the twenty minutes of stillness I needed to reset my nervous system after a chaotic party or a long afternoon at the dance school. I had to learn that saying 'no' to some social things was the only way to say 'yes' to my own health. We found our rhythm in the middle ground—less lifting, more coordinating.
love
