Last night I took time out from the millions of things I have to do, a couple of which are job-changing if I get them wrong, (so no pressure there then!) and set up my bullet journal for June.
I needed to spend some time on me. I know that sounds incredibly selfish, especially in the light of the Manchester bombing, but I was worrying pointlessly.
When Rich died, April gave me the best present ever in the short term and it would seem, in the long term. She took the Adorable Child for the night, and then brought him back in the morning. I have said before that had she not had done that, I would never have let him out of my sight again. She proved he would come home, even though Rich hadn't.
I still worry. When J and the AC went to Buckingham Palace last week for the bereaved children's tea party, I worried. Only a few weeks after the Westminster attack, in a terrorist heightened state, I worried. Obviously I didn't stop them going. I didn't tell them I was worried. I told the rest of the world that I enjoyed the day on my own, relaxing and watching Doctor Who, and I did, but in the back of my mind, all of the time, was the worry that they wouldn't come home. Police would knock my door and the world would crumble.
Now, I know how ridiculous that all sounds. I'm not an idiot. I am fully aware that Rich's accident was an accident. The coroner was very clear about that and I will be forever thankful that no-one was to blame. I would struggle to hate for the rest of my life. I know that the chances of something like that happening again are the same for J and the AC as they are for anyone else in the world - they are not at any more risk just because they are in my life, and that's why I never stop them doing anything. The AC is talking about getting a scooter and then a motorbike when he is older. I won't stop him. I might feel sick and worry every time he goes anywhere, but I won't and can't and shouldn't stop him.
Last night, after the news being on all day thinking about Manchester, I was fretting inside. My stomach was churning.
So, I drew (badly) and did some faux-calligraphy, and coloured bits in, and traced things I couldn't draw properly, and organised pages and played in a way that I really enjoy, that really chilled me out. I set up June in my bullet journal. I have a quote, that has nothing to do with June, a calendar list, a brain dump page, and a tracker page, and a "What did you do for you?" page, and a "Thankyou for...." page. In half term I will set up the rest of my School Bullet Journal pages. I will organise the outside of my life in a bid to quell the nerves on the inside.
I was promised.