This world will break your heart but kindness is everywhere, notice it…

If you’re like me and regularly wake up at silly o’clock no matter the weather or time of year, you’ll have developed the best strategy for gently starting your day. I’m well practised in this art of either watching the sunrise or lying for hours waiting for the first touch of the day to show in the sky, depending on the season. Being awake early or having disturbed sleep isn’t a new thing for me, it revisited me as yet another symptom of chronic illness. I have kids and now they are teenagers you may think I’ve forgotten the zombie-like daze of daytime hours while wondering why I’d bothered going to bed in the first place. At least now I don’t have babies or young kids to look after as I face my day with tired eyes. The turns have tabled and trying to get the teens out of bed now is the challenge of middle-age parenting. I’m still hopeful for a brass band to come and parade outside our house, or at the very least someone playing the bagpipes. Yes? Anyone?

I have a clear memory of when the insomnia began. I was in The Ulster Hospital, or Dundonald Hospital as it’s known around these parts. Sleep had completely eluded me. It was those wee small hours that I discovered Chris Hawkins (Radio 6, or 6 music as they like to call themselves. Notions!). Chris is my preferred choice of company while sipping my cup of ginger tea and slowly easing in to the day.

When I eventually make it downstairs (and the crowd goes WILD….) I flick on the telly. No I don’t. That’s like saying I’ve “taped” a programme which used to bewilder my kids. Makes perfect sense to me and brings me back to the 80s. After many years I’ve trained myself to say I’ve RECORDED a show when talking to anyone under 30. I was a real whizz with the video recording back in the day. I even pre-set it and the video recorder used to come alive when I was out, much to my Mum’s amazement. When the video clicked in and changed channels several times while I was out flying my kite this blew her mind and she thought I was some kind of techno genius. In fact all I’d done was read the instructions. What a rebel, eh? So in 202O I turn on my iPad, tune in to the lovely folks on the red sofa who keep me company as I get the porridge on the go. Before I became ill I used to hear how others would have the telly on “for company” and I thought it was tragic. Now I’m doing it. I’m not sure what I make of it, but somehow it does soothe me.

Ah, the news. It’s everywhere. It’s inescapable. But I won’t be lectured on having a media fast. That’s such a patronising and cringeworthy statement. I understand that we support our mental health by rationing our intake of news. I think I’m managing that ok. I like to know what’s going on but try not to delve too deeply. It’s a fine balancing act and right now it’s almost impossible to get that balance right. I’m looking at you, Twitter.

At times like these I like to remember the advice given to parents to help their kids understand and cope with very sad and upsetting news on the tv/internet. That advice is to look for the people who are helping. There are always people who will help and make a difference. I’m reminded of my own opinion that no matter how bad things are we should remember that people are essentially good. For some people I admit this goodness is certainly not visible, we may have to dig very deep to reveal that sense of humanity that we desperately need to see. For others it’s a natural, visceral and automatic response of kindness.

On a personal level I know this to be true. As my serious illness showed no sign of abating I started to unwillingly retreat from the outside world. I noticed how my circle of friends was quietly shrinking. When I first realised this was happening I felt really stung. Indeed for a while I subscribed to the angry ideal that when life gets tough YOU FIND OUT WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE! But this wasn’t my first rodeo. I had a marriage split a couple of years earlier and witnessed the frankly unbelievable retreat of friends, I remember one looked at me with ill-disguised horror as I approached her at an outdoor gathering. I was only going to say hello, not bloody steal her husband. (Would ye take the gift of ‘im…)

Eventually I accepted that this happens, friendships end abruptly or just fade away. It was incredibly sad, disappointing and did nothing for my already low self-esteem. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. I was exhausted from everything anyway, becoming seriously ill is not a good career move. I concluded that draining my dwindling reserves with self-defeating bitterness was getting me absolutely nowhere.

The people who remain with me to this day are marvellous individuals, some are recent friends and some are old friends. I mean old as in we go way back to schooldays. Yes I mean you Jo. I’m older than her by 3 months, as she enjoys reminding me. This is a friend who, despite her diminutive size (I am a relative giant at 5’ 9”) was so worried about my health some time ago that she practically carried me into the GP surgery. Think oxter cogging and you have the right idea. This was no mean feat for Jo, considering our difference in height. Also her family have been extraordinarily supportive and are indeed the very knees of the bees.

This is only one of many, many examples I could give for the myriad of help, support and kindness that I have received from friends, family and my local community. I’ve even been scooped off the ground by neighbours, one occasion was our first introduction as he and his wife had just moved in two doors down. That’s a fine way to say my first how d’ye do…

This is your reminder that people are intrinsically good.

This world can be strange, frightening, outrageous and grotesque.

This world will break your heart.

Kindness is everywhere, look for it.

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