A letter to put in your pocket

'Come to me, all you who wearied and burdened, and I will give you rest.'

Rest, that laughable word coveted by Mothers around the globe. The thought of closing your matchstick propped eyes and easing into blissful slumber,  no worries about defrosting meat, no lists about all the chores that need doing, no panicked googling about that mysterious rash on your 18 month olds chest. Just peace. A blank mind. Rest.

I'm still searching for the elusive state, where there's actual silence and no ticking in my mind. Where the vacuum, parked up in the hallway, is not calling me. Where the disney channel is silenced and the dog doesn't need a walk. Life gets in the way of our sleep time but we need the rest to do the living. It's difficult. So very difficult.

My task is to carve out those little snippets of time, where deep baths are acceptable and my skin is allowed to prune. When my phone can be switched off, completely off, and I can unload my worries to Him, heave the anxiety off my shoulders and place it firmly in His hands. For really, what option have I got?

So Lord, please give me rest. Cos God knows I need it.

Linking up with Ruth Povey and Letters To.

Letter to... the one who noticed.

We'd been friends for a while, until we wanted more. You came to my house and never left, watching films on my teeny tiny tv, relaxing on a floor bed of duvet and pillows. We ate dinner together. Got some pets. We were happy. Only, you saw me crying, inconsolable, at photo albums of my much loved Gran, you battled into the bathroom and mopped up blood running down my arm, you peeked behind the mask and didn't run. 

You helped me to get help.

That day, sat in the mental health nurses all-too-comfy chair you cried with me. That day, with a thousand thoughts whirling round my head, I knew you would never leave, you'd seen my soul, bared raw, seen me, more vulnerable than a person has any right to be, and you stayed. You visited. You did the housework while I was away and you celebrated me coming home. You built me back up into a person of worth. And even now, years down the line, when I'm struggling and go a bit quiet, when my finger nails dig half moons into the skin on my thigh, you notice, you always notice.

There are no words to say my thanks, to explain my love for you. But for now, just for now.

We'll be forever and always.

Meg x

Linking up with Sabrina at Just Keep Singing. Come link up to!