Holiday Hydrotherapy

My youngest, five year old Brielle has cerebral palsy and limited mobility along with other special needs.

She’s just finished a session of hydrotherapy with her school physiotherapist.

When I’ve watched her during these sessions, she seems to just about tolerate it. Not quite upset, but not too happy or excited either.

Her favourite thing is climbing up and down the stairs grasping the shiny handrail that leads into the pool.

She also seems to like riding on the ‘noodle’ like a pony.

I was a little apprehensive about how she’d manage in Splash Landings water park (at Alton Towers), our first point of call.

Her excitement and joy in the water blew me away!

Brielle had an absolute whale of a time! She giggled and squealed with the splashes and sprays of the waterworks, loved twirling and drifting around the lazy river in our arms, more climbing up and down stairs with a firm hand of support, and enjoyed hanging out with the family in the outside warm pool. 

I decided to keep her glasses on during our splash park adventure – they doubled almost as goggles, keeping out big splashes, as they are a sports style and fit closely.

I’d really recommend keeping your kiddo’s glasses on, if they will stay on in the water.

Not only will they minimize water from getting into their eyes, they’ll be able to see your face and their surroundings better!

Two other essentials for Brielle, both at the splash park and our hotel pool is her beady neck support wrap and her wet suit vest.

The neck support’s proper name is a ‘posture pillow’ and I use it to prevent her from swallowing water, as she has big problems swallowing and I don’t want to risk her aspirating pool water. She wears it happily like a pair of armbands.

Her wetsuit is also invaluable at keeping her warm, as we tend to spend long periods in the water, and hotel pools are not nearly as warm as therapy pools!

We usually reach a point during our swim time when Brielle gets bored or teary.

One new tactic I’ve come up with (bar taking the girls all out of the water), is jumping up and down in water holding her! Brielle gets SO excited, she kicks and splashes too.

It’s fun and good movement for her, activating so many muscles, and good exercise for this mum too!

I’m so happy we’ve had lots of time together in the water on our holidays, and am determined to make our trips to the pool more regular when we get home.

I’ve discovered that hydrotherapy is something you can do with your child too, and have lots of fun doing it!

Meet the Twins Diagnosed With the Same Condition 15 Months Apart

Their personalities and abilities are so widely different yet incredibly they are diagnosed with the same condition.

People often want to know more so when a friend recently asked me a few questions I decided to share my answers for others too.

When did you first notice anything was, ‘wrong’, with either of the children?

They were both late meeting key milestones like sitting, crawling and weight bearing.

In fact Naomi still can’t crawl at seven!

Isaac had a very noticeable eye squint and was not even trying to speak so my health visitor referred them both to a community paediatrician.

Naomi also struggled with weaning and neither of them gave eye contact at that point.

Did you have any idea what could have been the problem?

I thought they may be delayed in some areas perhaps simply from being twins and having to share my time.

I also thought Naomi may have some physical issues as she seemed very weak and was not even rolling about.

I was fairly confident they would outgrow these things though and be totally fine.

As time went on I began to suspect something deeper was going on, with Isaac especially.

He was very withdrawn, never played with toys, still had no language and at two was still not walking. I started googling and soon came across the word ‘autism’ but I was not ready to face it.

Who first mentioned autism to you and how did you feel?

At our first paediatrician appointment we were told Isaac presented with autism spectrum disorder and I assumed this was a formal diagnosis.

I was quite shocked to find out later that this was not the case and that for almost two years afterwards professionals did everything possible to avoid the word, despite the fact it was obvious he had it.

It took until he was three years and nine months to get a formal diagnosis by which time he was very entrenched in his own world, still not speaking at all and spent his waking moments scanning objects in front of his eyes like his favourite blanket, his hands and anything he could reach.

He showed no response to his name and understood very little.

A piece of my heart broke that day.

How was Naomi doing at this time?

After needing a standing frame from physiotherapy Naomi finally started walking at two and a half.

Her speech was great and she showed much more interest in her environment.

She played with toys, knew letters and numbers and colours and was giving much better eye contact as she matured.

Once she began nursery though they began noticing she was struggling in the social environment and showed no interest in other children.

This started our first referral for her, although autism never really entered my head as she presented so differently to her twin brother.

How did Naomi end up being diagnosed too?

As it became closer to starting school our concerns about Naomi became greater.

We noticed she was not talking at all outside of the house, she was not playing with other children, she was very anxious all the time and she became very distressed at changes.

Her play was more repetitive and she was frequently lining up toys and just looking at them.

She was referred to the diagnosis team who picked up on all these things and they also noticed her speech had a lot of echolalia where she was taking sentences from tv shows and books and using these instead of her own language.

She was diagnosed as having autism spectrum condition a week before her fifth birthday.

How do people react when they find out both your twins have autism?

Most people find it so hard to believe.

On one hand I have a non-verbal son who has no social awareness, who sensory seeks constantly, loves lifts and hand dryers and has significant learning difficulties, whist his sister is thriving at mainstream school, can talk all day long, understands everything we say and to many people seems perfectly ‘normal.’

It seems very strange to say they both have autism as they have very little in common.

They really do show how wide the spectrum is despite living in the same family and even being born on the same day!

Is there anything else you would want to say about your children?

Absolutely! They may have autism but that is not what defines them.

They have very unique characters and personalities and that does not change just because they have a diagnosis.

They actually help and support each other so much too. Naomi helps people understand when he brother can’t speak or sign and Isaac’s confidence and laughter helps Naomi overcome her anxiety as she relaxes being with him.

They have a wonderful bond and being autistic does not change that in any way.

They walked at different times, often slept at different times, go to different schools and have different interests so the fact they were diagnosed 15 months apart just adds to their beauty and uniqueness and I would not have them any other way.

I am double blessed.

Just Popping Out

In my head I know where this parent is coming from: I’d be feeling the same way too if I cared what other people think.

But I don’t care what others think of me, because I’ve had to learn not to.

Viewed through the prism of ‘special needs’ parenting, this person’s nightmare looks like my dream shopping trip – only one ‘terrible twos’ tizzy, with an easily identifiable cause.

Although I understood the point the writer was making, I didn’t identify with him at all.

In fact, I found his concerns somewhat laughable because I had just returned from a two-hour expedition to buy milk from a shop ten minutes’ walk away from my house.

The usual laws of time and space don’t apply to special needs families. It IS possible for a ten minute trip to take two hours.

It might start with a flat refusal to come downstairs to get ready to go out.

This refusal may come completely out of the blue, or it may follow a tantrum about the wrong kind of toast (or, as last week, a tantrum because it wasn’t August yet, and according to mummy, it takes more than just turning over the page on the calendar to make it stop being July).

To show him I mean business I can take the shoes and backpack (with attached wrist-link) upstairs and attempt to put them on, but this will result in ten minutes of furious kicking while I try to wrangle the boots on without the insoles slipping out of position, and at the same time avoid getting my front teeth removed by a flying Piedro.

Hopefully I’ll get them on the correct foot at the first attempt, even though they are so battered and out-of-shape that I can barely tell which is meant to be which (but, of course, I’m still waiting for the new ones to be delivered).

What happens next depends on which one of us first gets bored of waiting out his refusal to stand up.

If I’m very lucky, then, once out of the front door I might find that he resigns himself to going to the shop, and walks nicely beside me holding my hand, chatting about the things he sees and hears on the way.

His first attempt to run off will be met with application of the wrist link, which may result in him realising that trying to run off was a bad move.

If this is the case then, as we approach the busy road, I may feel a little hand slip into mine.

Sometimes, we might actually get round the shop without a tizzy of any kind, especially if he is fully occupied pulling the basket, which handily has little wheels on it so it doesn’t get too heavy.

He’ll even gleefully unload the stuff onto the belt at the checkout, and pack it all into the bag at the end, carefully dropping a four-pint bottle of milk onto the bread rolls to cushion its fall (luckily, hereabouts, we eat North Staffordshire Oatcakes, which are already flat and pretty much indestructible).

The homeward journey could potentially proceed via three or four ‘flop and drop’ attacks. 

These are caused, in the first instance, by me dragging him away from the most fantastic stick that he’s just spotted on the ground, because we’re in the middle of a pedestrian crossing, and the lights are about to change for the traffic to start moving again. This one could last as long as twenty minutes.

The next might well occur because I tell him off for viciously kicking the shopping bag as he gets up from the first (only ten minutes, this one).

The third will probably be precipitated by my refusal to let him pick up a dirty wipe from the grass outside the flats – some trollop has obviously wiped the baby’s bum on it and just thrown it out the window (I’m getting decidedly frustrated with the whole world, and everyone in it, EXCEPT for my child).

The person who offers a jocular, ‘helpful’, comment on my parenting style at the fourth, ‘flop and drop’.

(which occurs because my little one is now tired and fed up) will likely feel the sharp side of my tongue and will go away thinking I’m an asshole. That’s ok, because I already think he’s an asshole, so we’re quits.

The fifth (wait, there’s a fifth? No wonder it took two hours) will inevitably happen at the entrance to a car park, or in the middle of the road, or some other place so obviously inconvenient or dangerous that it is difficult not to imagine that it has been carefully chosen as part of some dastardly plan to be the final straw that breaks the camel’s back (and boy, have I got the hump by now).

I have no choice but to half-drag, half-carry my offspring out of harm’s way to a more suitable location for such an activity (or inactivity).

Sanctions and punishments have no effect whatsoever in this situation.

You can only try to manage the behaviour and ride it out. Much harder to ride out is other people’s reactions.

I was going to say that it helps if you have no shame, but no one should be ashamed in this situation, because they are dealing with something most people have no understanding of.

So, Mr Woe-is-me-my-kid-threw-a-wobbly-in-Waitrose, I’ll see your tiny toddler tantrum and raise you ten.

I’m not asking for your pity. You may be thinking, ‘I wouldn’t want to walk in her shoes’, but I’m laughing, because I know I could fly in yours.    

The Cards You Have Been Dealt: Playing the Labels Game

I had no immediate answer to this question last week. Nothing tripped off my tongue, there was no pre-prepared reply stored in my head, largely because I don’t consider myself this way.

Save for a handful of leaflets and forms that tell me to the contrary, this is not how I would choose to describe myself.

Maybe that’s because Natty’s physical needs aren’t very complex, or because caring for her isn’t a 24 hour role that is solely my responsibility at the moment.

Then again maybe it’s because I’m in denial.

Natty’s team and we her family will always support her in some form or another as we work towards her independence of course, but does that make me a carer?

I am simply a Mum that cares for both of our girls, albeit that one needs a little extra input at times.


This question put me in mind of a Powerpoint slide I had seen recently.

It stated that only children with disabilities are considered to have siblings. Others just have brothers and sisters.

They also have Mums, Dads or guardians not carers.

And that’s why this question stood out for me. Somehow carer sounds a lot like a job, a hardship, a burden. And do such terms serve to further alienate and differentiate our children from society?

Labels that Support, Limit or Harm

There is no denying though that each and every one of us shapes our identity from a combination of labels. They make up a picture of how we see ourselves, how we feel about ourselves and that, in turn, affects the way our futures are built.

‘Carer’ and ‘special needs parent’ were labels that were handed to us along with Natty’s diagnosis. They weren’t titles we actively sought for ourselves, but they were part of the hand life dealt us.

And there is no denying that these labels can bring support. Just ask any parent whose child is awaiting a diagnosis and they will tell you how important labels are. Without them, packages of care can be denied.

Labels can limit and even harm us too, and many of you work tirelessly to end the use of offensive terms for those with disabilities, as well as encouraging the use of person first language.

The unique child behind the condition is what counts after all, let’s raise our expectations and not set limits with generalisations.

Self Care for Parents

And by the same token we, the special needs parents, the carers must be wary of focusing too intently on just a few of those identity cards in our deck. At our peril we ignore the rest, the seemingly unimportant, the trivial, the less pressing or serious. The ones that are always being pushed to the back.

I’ve heard too many stories of Mums putting off their smear tests because they have no time, until too late, of parents’ mental health suffering, or, like my own cautionary tail, suspected MS which turned out to be burnout.

Unless we heed the parts of ourselves that make life fun, and pop self care back on the agenda, then those labels like carer, advocate and teacher are in danger. Unless we remember the fully rounded people we truly are, we cannot bring the best of ourselves to those roles day after day.

Shuffle the Cards

So take a look at the labels cards in your hand. The chances are ‘carer’ is in there, but is there a card at the back that says, ‘park runner’, or, ‘film buff’, ‘chocoholic’, or, ‘loyal friend’, ‘knitter’, or, ‘bread baker’?

Bring them to the front. Just once in a while.

Have a re-shuffle, remember the person at your core, take control of those labels and use them to your advantage.

A Victoria Wood sketch recently reminded me that I used to be a step aerobics addict, way back in the 90s before I grew squidgy and tired.

I’m off to see if I can find a class to fit in with my current schedule, or pehaps a DVD I can pop on when the girls are in bed.

Might have to ditch that 90s lycra first though…

Let us know what your relationship is to the many labels in your life.

Are they a help or a hinderance?

Space to Change for Portsmouth Port Customers

The ‘Space to Change’ toilet facility, was opened by five year old Hadley Brisdion.

It includes an adult-sized, height-adjustable changing bench and ceiling tracking hoist, as well as extra space for mobility equipment and carers.

This allows safe and dignified lifting, changing and toileting for those with complex needs.

Sarah Brisidon, Space to Change campaigner, Firefly Community Blogger and most importantly mum to 5 year old Hadley who has cerebral palsy, made Portsmouth International Port’s staff aware of the fact that when they travel as a family the Port’s previous accessible toilet provision did not meet their needs.

Like so many others, my son is faced with the undignified and unhygienic situation of having to lie on toilet floors or spend prolonged periods of time in his own bodily waste, because these special facilities are so rarely available.

It’s heartbreaking to have to lay somebody you love on a toilet floor to change them.

It’s distressing and disgusting for him and really physically difficult for me. And it gets harder, the older he gets.

When I raised this issue with the Port, they were incredibly supportive and wanted to make changes as soon as possible, to ensure that the terminal building was accessible to all.’

Kalvin Baugh, Ferry Port Manager, said, ‘It was brought to our attention by local ‘Space to Change’ champion, Sarah Brisdion, that standard accessible toilets do not meet the needs of people with severe disabilities or additional needs.

Even more shockingly, that they often have to lie on toilet floors to be changed.

We felt very strongly that nobody should have to endure this and so worked closely with Sarah to find a solution.

We believe we are the first sea port to offer these vital amenities.’

Sarah explained to staff at the Port the benefit that a bench and hoist provides to special needs families, ‘It is nothing short of life-changing for families like mine.

It enables us to use the toilet when out in public – something that most people take for granted.

We now have even more reason to choose travelling by ferry from Portsmouth, over any other port or airport.

In fact it’s great for travel agents to be aware of this facility when talking to groups or individuals going on a cruise or ferry holiday, who may have physical requirements, to know their needs are being met.  

I cannot thank the Port management enough for understanding and helping to make such an important difference to the lives of so many people.’

If you are interested in campaigning for Space to Change toilets or providing them in your business or venue please get in touch!

Autism: Myth Busting

Upon his diagnosis at age four, yes it was scary but it was also such a relief, there was now a reason as to why my child was not the same to others of his age and in fact it wasn’t my fault.

Throughout our learning journey I heard and read a lot of myths about autism and many are unfair.

I understand that it’s like anything different or unknown; people do not understand it and like many myths until they are quashed then people are none the wiser.

So I thought I would quash a few of the most widely heard:

1. People with autism don’t want friends

People with autism struggle with social skills/ social situations. This makes it difficult for them to interact, not that they don’t want to, they just lack the confidence.

In fact my son has been upset on a few occasions when children didn’t want to play with him.

2. People with autism can’t feel, express or understand any emotion, even happy or sad.

It doesn’t make them unable to feel these emotions, it just makes the person communicate emotions (and perceive your expressions) in different ways.

They struggle to read facial expressions so cannot always respond in the correct manner.  My son makes us laugh so much but becomes paranoid at the laughing and misunderstands this as aimed at him.

3. People with autism are all geniuses

My son is an average performer in school, working to the national expected requirements. However, he does know a lot about mechanics for an eight year old.

I have found that those with autism just have extraordinary passion and enthusiasm for something meaningful to them. In our house its vehicles.

I do know others with autism that have amazing unique qualities that make them super intelligent, but it’s not guaranteed.

4. Its only children who have autism

It is not only children it affects. Those children grow into adults with autism.

5. Autism is caused by bad parenting

Time and time again I hear that children are classed as naughty, difficult, unruly or undisciplined.

I thought for a long time that my child was naughty and blamed myself, this is not the case and once we understood that my son’s difficulties were frustrations and an inability to communicate it was a revelation.

6. The prevalence of autism has been steadily increasing for the last 40 years

It’s not that there are now more people with autism, it is now a case that it is understood more.

As there is more understanding, there is certainly an increase but people with autism always existed.

They now have a medical label which means that the number of people with Autism can be counted and considered.

I Read the News Today, Oh Boy!

Like every mum, I rarely get to watch the news (it’s all Sophia the First and Blaze and the whatever they are…) but when I’m working, I like to have it on in the background, just so I feel like I live on a planet where there are other humans other than five year olds.

But how I wish I hadn’t turned the TV on!

Having only just regained a small amount of perspective since the small boy who was dragged to his death by an alligator, the brutal murder of MP Jo Cox and the shootings in the Orlando nightclub, I saw the body of a child lying lifeless, covered on a road in Nice after the most horrifying terrorist attack.

I literally felt numb.

I could have raced straight to school and grabbed my kids and done a runner to a remote island there and then to get them away from all of this.

These terrifying incidents have made me question the sort of world we have brought our children into!

What on earth is wrong with us?

Why so much hate and killing and sadness?

The fear of losing a child, or leaving a child without a parent, is something that I find very hard not to dwell on at times.

Perhaps because I have friends who have lost both children and parents, it is something that I think about more than others?

Or is it just because we seem to be pelted with this tragic news every week?

I feel like I have a constant pit in my stomach.

A horrible underlying fear that the world is not the nice place we so desperately want it to be for our children. And that something bad is around the corner.

Is it just that I’ve had a few hours of sleep a night for the past six years (living in a constant haze of jumpiness and exhaustion) that I’m so on edge?

Or is this fear actually very real and very rational?

Is it because I am a mother of a child with a disability that I feel more frightened of the world around my kids and more inclined to wrap them in cotton wool?

Perhaps the fear is accentuated by my heightened sense of awareness that the world is not accessible?

Life is going to be hard enough for my kiddos, without having to worry about things like murder and terrorism and darkness.

I’m trying really hard to focus on the positives right now. Especially as it is the school holidays and the kids just want to have fun!

I’m trying to quell the anxiety that plagues the depths of my mind.

To do that thing that people always tell you to do – ‘Live each day as if it’s your last’.

To eat the ice cream and the cake, to go on that trip, to ditch the mundane and enjoy the world we live in.

But, no matter how much un-abandoned fun we have; how much ice cream we consume and how many times we splash in the sea, the feeling doesn’t completely go away.

Not least because both of my kids seem obsessed with the concept of dying at the moment.

Not in some sort of sinister way of course, but in the way all kids are when they figure out that people and pets do not live for eternity.

They are beginning to understand that with death, comes sadness.

They are worrying about when it will happen and who it will happen to and they seem noticeably anxious about it, asking lots of questions that I find very difficult to answer – because I don’t like thinking about the answers myself!

It has made me wonder.

Are they going through this stage earlier than normal?

Are they picking up on the news they hear on TV and that they hear us talking about?

Has death been brought to their attention too soon?

Surely they should just be worrying about what flavour jam they want on their toast or what they want for their birthday, not when members of their family will pass away?

All you want to tell your kids is that they are not to worry and that nothing bad will happen.

But that feels so untruthful and I’m always telling them that they really shouldn’t lie. So I won’t lie to you now.

I’m struggling with how to manage this topic with them and to not fear for their future.

Because I can’t promise them that nothing bad will ever happen.

I can’t promise them that the world is a wonderful place and that everyone is kind and that we are all safe. Because I don’t believe that.

I don’t think we are currently doing a very good job as a human race.

But what I can do is reinforce the positives and try to help them understand this world that we live in.

To educate them about dangers and pray they never have to endure any of the evil acts that seem to be happening every day.

And to make sure they feel loved. That they understand life should be lived and enjoyed.

And then do that with them, as much as is humanly possible.

On Loss, Pregnancy and the Future

It is a sort of sad way to live when you think about it because really we should be cherishing every moment from the fantastic to the mundane because this is life and as far as I know we only get one attempt at it.

It is thoughts like this that often keep me up at night, along with the usual other worries.

It is thought cycles like this that can send you into a bit of an existential crisis, but they are also the thoughts that spark you to really think about why you are here and what this whole being here on earth is about.

Life has been a bit trying on me in this last year.

I hope you don’t mind me sharing, and I apologise now if you view this as an overshare – but I have wanted a second child for quite some time now.

The reasons for me are tenfold – I am an only child myself and always wonder what it would have been like to have a brother or sister to annoy, is my main reason.

The other is one a lot of you may relate to – you sort of want to make up for those things you were robbed of the day you became the parent to a disabled child.

For me, holding the child straight away and not after a painful five days watching her fight for her life, orally feeding/breast feeding. Stuff like that.

Now I don’t want anyone to translate that in a negative way at all.

What I am trying to say is I LOVE this special needs community that I am very fortunate to be a part of.

I sometimes feel very privileged that I am an exclusive member of this almost secret world.

There are some incredible people out there – specialists, children, parents, teachers, all sorts. I absolutely feel the best thing that has happened to me in life is being exposed to this whole other world.

A world where the sight of a feeding pump bag could mean a new friend for life from a simple supermarket trip.

But I also crave being part of that other world, the world where a child DOES meet those milestones.

Sometimes I find other people’s children so whimsical with their words and their eating, it is like a different but intriguing culture to me.

So basically I am greedy.

I want the best of both worlds and I feel that both children would benefit hugely from sharing these two worlds, as would I.

In fact I strongly believe the world would be a better place if we all took more time to understand the many different ways people live.

Unfortunately for me the whole second child thing wasn’t quite as easy as I had anticipated.

My pregnancy with Amy was nothing special, just a standard, good, average pregnancy.

I had no issues the whole time. It was the unexpected birth trauma that got us where we are today.

So I naively assumed my body was really good at being pregnant but sadly I suffered two miscarriages last year. So not only am I terrified of birth (I would be opting for an elective section anyway but this doesn’t make me much less scared), but it now means I am terrified of my body and pregnancy.

Next week I have an operation on my womb because the miscarriages have caused a myoma.

It isn’t a major operation but I find with each internal examination or invasive procedure I am further reminded just how fragile life is and how unfair it can sometimes be.

It is a further reminder of those two babies I won’t get to meet.

People tell you “oh well, you will get there.”, and I am sure there are many women out there who would retort “I know I will, but it doesn’t change the fact that I wanted THAT baby.”

No new baby will ever compensate for the loss of the other, it is a separate entity, a different due date, different everything.

My heart goes out to anyone struggling for a child or who has lost one or anything like that.

I had never realised I even wanted children and now listen to me!

So before you get your violins out or begin to cry, my point of this post is that we are always waiting.

Part of me thinks, “Things will be better when I have another child.” They probably won’t be.

You will either see me continue to complain about pregnancy issues, or you will see me being sad at how different two lives can be and the struggles faced, or how busy I am with two!

I think I will always have something to whinge about, I think it’s my hobby.

Recently I kept thinking about how much easier life will be when Amy is three and we qualify for a mobility car.

We did have a wheelchair access van and are continuing to try and repair it.

I am not sure it’s financially viable to keep repairing it, it is very old and unreliable but we can’t afford a new one.

It has given me a taster of how much easier it is… disassembling a very heavy wheelchair and re-assembling every time we go out is becoming a very sore issue for my back.

I don’t know who made the rule that the child must be three… I suppose someone who has never had to carry my child and feeding pump bag to a different road as parking is also so hard here – yes, even with a blue badge!

I remember last year thinking how much easier it would be when she starts nursery.

Now I am at that point – I wouldn’t say it is easier, it is just different.

I am much calmer and happier now, as is she, but I don’t think the arrival of nursery in our life was what did it.

So I guess my point is that these things are sort of arbitrary. It’s not about when the holiday is, or when you get the mobility car… it’s more about the hardships you face and how you come through them.

It was a year ago today I had that first miscarriage and whilst I do feel very sad about it, I don’t feel half as empty inside as I did that day.

Things will get better, they always do.

Don’t spend your life waiting on the next thing you think will make it easier or better… enjoy the little things.

It’s the little things like that in life… things that remind you that there is good out there and that people care, and knowing that your child has a world of people who want to make things as inclusive as possible, that make my day.

It is the reminder every night when I walk past my daughter’s room when she is fast asleep in bed that I am so thankful she is here and in my life.

Yes I do want that second child, no I don’t want that operation, but for now I am trying to just focus on those little things and eventually it should all just fall into place.

Keep plodding on everyone, life is cruel at times, but don’t get consumed by it or you will miss its beauty.