It’s a strange old time. Coming to terms with an advanced diagnosis, researching how to keep myself well for as long as I can, juggling hospital appointments, being with the grief, anger, fear of friends and family. Meanwhile, the world still turns and it’s Midwinter, so the radio is full of christmas tunes, the shops are full of insane amounts of chocolate and cheese (ohhhh, cheese), and there is tinsel and sparkles everywhere.

I met a dear friend for dinner last week and whilst we wrangled with my news, the table next to us was filled with folk in sparkly tops. There were crackers, paper hats, turkey dinners. I commented on how early Christmas parties were this year, to which my friend pointed out that it was, in. fact, almost Christmas.

It made me realised how difficult it is navigating difficult terrain- be it bad news, grief, isolation, at this time of year. I feel like I’m disconnected from “real life”. I can’t decide whether I’m outside of normality (whatever that is), looking in, or inside a bubble, looking out.

I remember similar times. Lost in the grief of my dad’s death, I could barely comprehend how life was continuing. People were acting normal, as if nothing had changed. And everything, everything had changed.

Now feels like that. So far I’ve not written a single card, not bought a single gift, no tree, no tinsel. It feels ludicrous, all the stress all the shopping and giftwrap, secret santa, whamageddon and all the other nonsense. And yet I still yearn for the comfort of the silly season. I’m missing the ritual of unwrapping the Christmas baubles, the comfort in the daftness, the familiarity, the normality, the escapism.