April marked twelve years since I first hit the publish button on the blog.
Twelve whole years. It feels surreal even typing that. What started as a quiet little corner of the internet to share thoughts, observations, and the occasional rant has become something far more personal than I ever imagined. Yet, looking at the tumbleweeds rolling through the archives recently, you wouldn’t think it meant much at all.
I think 2024 was the first year since I started blogging over a decade ago that I didn’t post something before Christmas.
Yes, I was busy – December is often one of the busiest points of the year as both my clients and I take some time off over the festive season, so essentially a month’s worth of work needs to be done, approved and scheduled in advance in less than three weeks. Additionally, regardless of how organised I try to be, there are ALWAYS extra things that appear – company Christmas parties and events (the week before Christmas I was in London for two days filming several events with a client), Christmas and New Year video messages from different teams etc. I genuinely enjoy it – this time of year is always perfect for creating lots of fun and joyful content, but it doesn’t necessarily allow for personal Christmas prep time, (despite my declarations in November that this year would be different).
A week ago I met up with two friends, Sacha and Helen, in London. Both of them are authors – Sacha is absolutely killing it in the indie author world and Helen’s book has just been released across the UK with One More Chapter, part of Harper Collins publishing – but we actually met through blogging nearly ten years ago.
Yesterday after I had posted I took a look through the general blog… and oh my gosh it needs seriously updating.
However, when I was scrolling down my sidebar I noticed this:
I must have hit the 1.5 million view mark recently, and completely missed it.
Holy cow.
There’s nothing like moving house to remind me that I have the upper body strength of a toddler and I’m insanely unfit.
Brace yourself. This is a long one.
The Bloke and I moved house at the beginning of January. It’s been a long time (I think about eight years!) since our last move and not one that we had planned on – our landlord suddenly suggested late last year that he was thinking of selling the house, leaving us in the precarious position of potentially being given notice and needing to find somewhere new in a very short amount of time, in an area that is very much in demand. We decided to take ownership of the situation and found somewhere ourselves, and struck lucky with a beautiful property not far away.
On Friday night I logged off and sank back into the couch. Last week wasn’t particularly bad, but it was certainly intense in the sheer volume of work that appeared on my daily lists. While everything got done I was left feeling mentally and physically exhausted.
Additionally, my sleep patterns have been all over the place (thank you, peri-menopause), and this has resulted in lots of my working hours being conducted through what has felt like a hazy fog behind my eyeballs recently.
Working for myself has a number of positives… in theory. I don’t have an awful daily commute, I can set my own hours, choose who I work with and I don’t have a micro-managing, passive-aggressive line manager to deal with (of which I have experienced many). While these are all things that I appreciate on a daily basis, I have found that as my client base has grown, an increasing level of fear has accompanied it…
Isn’t it strange how, when you find yourself in a difficult situation, the universe seemingly steps in and shows you the direction in which you need to go?
I discussed recently about the challenges that The Bloke and I have faced this year, particularly with the death of various family members and my mum being ill. We’re both tired and a bit stressed, we both struggle with depression and anxiety on occasion and both of us have found ourselves getting through the day on autopilot when things have got really tough.
It’s taken me over a month to write this. I’ve been back and forth with myself, repeatedly drafting and deleting, hoping that the urge to write would fade… but it hasn’t. So today I decided to bite the proverbial bullet and post – albeit a much more concise, less angry version of my initial ramblings – but at least I’ve transferred my thoughts and sent it out into the universe. I may decide to delete it later, but we’ll see.
My father passed away at the beginning of July.
Just over ten years ago I was writing furiously in my journal after having a crappy day at work. I was into my seventh year of teaching, hated almost every minute of it and as a result had become severely depressed. One thing that eased the dark cloud was writing my thoughts down and I had developed a habit of buying notebooks and spending hours of my evening scribbling down my frustrations of the day.
The Bloke, perhaps a little overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of my ever increasing collection of notebooks that had started to litter the house, suggested that I start an online blog. My knowledge of blogging was minimal, but I signed up for a free WordPress account and began to write. There were no expectations behind it – I was careful not to use my real name and avoided including too many personal details and discussing anything that would get me sacked should the school discover it.
After spending over a week down south, I returned home for a few days and then travelled up north to Manchester.
The main purpose of the trip was to catch up with a group of friends that I have known for nearly 25 years. It has been two years since I last saw them – they were the last social event I had before the pandemic hit the UK in March 2020, so I was looking forward to it.
I was staying with my mum for the weekend and we had a bunch of things planned around it. I was feeling quite smug when I left the house initially due to being somewhat organised for once, only to discover when I arrived that I had forgotten a whole bunch of stuff including socks, make-up and a phone charger. Who forgets to pack socks???
Socks quickly acquired, we went for a meal at our favourite Chinese restaurant on the Friday night. We’ve been going there for decades – I remember having my 18th birthday celebration there, I turned 40 last year and I couldn’t count how many meals our family has had there in between. I was delighted to see that one of the staff members, George, who greeted us during our earliest visits, was still there. There is one particular dish – a sharing platter for two – that both mum and I are obsessed with, so instead of ordering a starter and selection of mains we decided to treat ourselves and had one each without mains. It was fabulous – I couldn’t help but laugh with sheer excitement as they were brought out – but I was so full by the end I thought someone would have to roll me to the car afterwards.
Suzie Speaks 
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