Lying here comforting my daughter of 9 months beside me, it suddenly occured to me that when she was born I was going to write more, start to share my work, use my time out of work to explore my poetry writing too. You know, all the usual gubbins, before the actual reality of having a newborn who doesn't sleep, has painful reflux and an older, teenage sister or whichever equivalents consume you.

It is heartening though to look back at this page, created with myself in mind and realise that now, if I really pushed myself, I could find the time and headspace. Not only that but it would perhaps do me a whole world more good than others things I've gotten into the habit of doing- brainlessly, whilst living on shattered sleep. 

It is fair to say that these past 9 months have taken their toll. I feel a lot like that pair of frayed shoes, abandoned at the bottom of shoe pile, going nowhere fast. Shoes have feelings too, you know. It feels like every line which I had managed to stave off my face into my thirties, has raced right onto there, with three or four mates by its side. As for what's going on inside- well, let's just say that I love; a lot... that love creates worry, worry creates cake and biscuit addictions and so it goes on. 

This week, after four weeks of two particularly needy, GCSE doing, teething doing daughters with a Mum who hasn't slept or looked in a mirror for 9 months, running on near zero reserves turning into an emotional, not actually coping that well anymore thank you very much, wreck. I have written a self-care diary. It feels SO good. Poetry has always saved me. Always. From escaping parental arguments, staring out at the sky and writing what I consider to be my first poem, at 9 years old. To right here, right now, at 5am, reading the poetry of others in order to relax after a restless hour with my smallest bundle of love. 

I can relate to Ben Johnson. My children are of course- my favourite works of art, my favourite pieces of poetry. BUT, here's to recognising that they need a soul-filled, creative, happy and thriving Mother as a role-model, not that pair of worn-out, frayed shoes.

This is my milestone, and I am excited.