A Sunday Glimmer Stack ✨

It's been a while since I wrote one of these. I tried to make glimmer stacks a weekly thing for a while but I was, quite honestly kidding myself that I would have either the energy or content to regularly write about such novelties. All that glitters is not gold, and the silver in my life is almost always plated to cover a dull metal. In case that didn't make any sense whatsoever - what I meant was… the shiniest parts of my days are always the smallest parts. The rest is a couldron of pain, emotional turmoil, inability, overwhelm, and a brain that has a long standing beef with getting started and hormone fluctuations.

I wrote something a little while ago on my Instagram about how I was learning to be okay with the perfect moments that reside inside imperfect days. That perfect days themselves were too big of an expectation, a chimera that couldn't be attained. And actually, acknowledging that as a disabled person has somewhat helped me better manage self expectation.

I'm not saying there aren't such things as good day, great ones even, but perfect is a non-entity for many disabled people and instead, small, but soul soothing moments of contentment help me reframe how I survive the worst days.

It's not fool proof, there's no right way to get through a terrible day that's drenched in symptoms nobody can see, but appreciating the simplicity of things like laughter and a decent conversation is somewhat of a buoyancy aid.

Over the weekend my daughter had been invited to a party at one of our friend's houses. Said friends also invited us to come round after and visit a local free festival with them.

I woke up in full hormonal meltdown mode. Everything was too loud. My tolerance was at zero. I was exhausted and felt like the pressure of showing up with a smile on my face was too going to be too much effort.

I worried about where to park, if I would have to do loads of walking, and whether or not I could physically tolerate the sounds of other more able people enjoying themselves, and what it might look like if I couldn't. That self doubt took over. I felt like I had to hurry up and snap out of my sickness to be someone else for the afternoon. I text my friend a load of questions asking the what where's and how's of the days expectations, she answered calmly and didn't appear to be bothered by my anxiety. By that I mean, she might have been rolling her eyes but her texts were patient, kind, and devoid of any and all pressures.

I was inside my head, catastrophizing every worst case scenario. Feeling guilty that I might have to be metaphorically carried through the afternoon.

However, there was a part of me that wanted to go. I wanted to show up. I wanted to accept an invitation for once. It was a mild day. My kids wanted to go, my husband wanted to go and I realised, once I'd released a little of the pressure that I too wanted to be there, to see our friends and make the effort.

I gave myself an extra 2 hours. Pushed the time back a little and power napped for 45 minutes. I then got up and didn't worry about the fact my hair was unwashed. I chucked it up. Wore my comfiest clothes and made my way to meet them.

And you know what happened after that? I enjoyed myself. I sat on the grass, ate some good food, laughed about the split in my husband's jeans, watched the kids chase eachother around the field and I relaxed.

By normal standards this wasn't a perfect day. Given the mood I’d woke up in it wasn't ever going to be, but I surprised myself once again to learn, it's sometimes (not always) possible to turn things around. And when you do get the opportunity to do so it's totally worth it.

I'm grateful for those friends that are patient. The ones that naturally relieve the pressure. The ones that invite you even when your track record is to rarely show up, the ones who know full well, the odds on you coming are slim. The friends that even though, they know the odds are slim, still act excited and glad when you finally turn up.

I'm grateful for the people that contribute to my happiness. I'm grateful for accessible spaces and unhurried atmospheres. I'm grateful for other people's tolerance when mine is at zero. It's not easy to be friends with me. I come with caveats and warning signs. I come with requests and complaints and stress, I know that about myself, but in the right environment, at the right time, I'm funny, I'm (not to toot my own horn) somewhat interesting, and I have a personality that isn’t for everyone but if you're patient, you'll get the best out of it.

I'm thankfull for these afternoons. The glimmers. The hours and moments that remind me I'm still living.