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    Release!

    Family Friends Self Harm claire-coe
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    Click above to take you to Claire's personal blog!


    Firstly… it’s been nearly 2 weeks but I’ve had such a hard week that I just couldn’t bring myself to write anything.

    Secondly… I think this is going to be one of the hardest blogs I’ll write so please bear with.

    So every one has a way of releasing their anger/fear/sadness/depression/anxiety.. whatever it may be, everyone expresses their emotions in different ways. One thing I wouldn’t say I’m ashamed of but more frustrated by is how easily I cry. Whether it be happy tears, sad tears, frustrated or angry tears, they always come thick and fast. When I’m having a particularly bad spell, I question how on earth I haven’t ran out of tears.

    The beginning of this week was SO hard for me, I had just got back from an amazing weekend with my family and had to come back to a very empty and quiet flat with no company. I spent the whole of Sunday evening crying into my dinner… spent a lot of Monday crying at work. I dropped my lunch on the floor and burst into sobbing, ugly floods of tears.

    Anyway… this is one of my releases, crying does help me… it gets that build up out of me. Others may judge and think “Jesus she cries a lot”… Others may even envy the fact that I CAN cry.

    But in the past I’ve had another way of releasing. I first self harmed when I was about 20 years old, I remember it like it was yesterday and remember the reaction of the person I told. Pure disgust.

    I didn’t do it again for a few years as I felt disgusting that I had done that to myself. But… I did it again, and again… and again. I used to be ashamed of the scars on my arm, hide them under sleeves or anything that I could so people wouldn’t judge me. The same with the scars on my legs, will people see them when I go swimming? Will my boyfriend’s think I’m disgusting?

    Through my counselling, I have learned to never, EVER be ashamed of scars. If anyone ever asks me what they are, I will explain. And if anything, I would urge people to ask me.
    Self harming has created this release so strong over the years for me. It gives me something physical to focus on when my head is in such a bad, dark place.

    I haven’t self harmed for a while now and feel proud with every day that I don’t do it.

    I know a lot of my friends have done this before and still do it and they should never be ashamed of that, however I will strongly urge them to find a better release or a better distraction in those times.

    I find now when I’m in that place that going for a walk with Rosie, doing some colouring, reading my book… all these pull me away from the urge.

    To all those reading this, if you ever have the urge to do something like this, please message me/friends/family/call the Samaritans… there are better ways to release.

    xx

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  • Published on

    Hello!

    Counselling Depression Family claire-coe
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    Let me introduce you to Claire, a lady I have known for over ten years. This brave young girl has started a blog, documenting and detailing her own personal mental health journey, as she deals with depression. I came across a link for her web page on facebook and immediately asked if she wouldn't mind featuring on my blog from time to time. She very kindly agreed and I am proud to welcome Claire to the wonderful world of blogging.

    I have written much about depression and the spectre of mental health and understand just what it is like to deal with these issues on a daily basis. Many of my readers at 'Roaming Brit' have contacted me about my stories dealing with depression and I know Claire's writing will also be of great help to them as they face their own challenges and difficulties everyday.  Once again a big thank you to Claire!
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    Click above to take you to Claire's personal blog!


    Well hello there… if you’re reading this you’ve obviously clicked on the link!

    Where do I even begin? So I’ll assume you all know me… I’m Claire… I got diagnosed with depression around 10 years ago, the anxiety I assume comes hand in hand.

    I’ve been having private counselling now for around 6 months, it’s been absolutely brilliant. I would recommend it to anyone that can afford it.

    One of the most recent sessions was my counsellor saying I should start a blog, to tell my story… talk about my week and the struggles I have overcome. Not only that, but mainly to help others. I have learned so much along my journey and would love to teach some of it to others. If I can just help one person, I will be happy.

    So here I am… today’s blog will be short and sweet, a little snippet some may say! I’ll try and post weekly, almost a “week in the life of Claire”.

    So today, I woke up feeling RUBBISH. I felt really down in the dumps and miserable… one of those moods you can’t snap out of. I messaged my mum (She will come up a lot in these!) And my sister in law to see if I could tag along to Bournemouth with them.

    I got a reply from both, of course, more than welcome but it will be very fleeting… won’t it be a waste of time?

    Queue that little man that sits on my shoulder… they don’t want you there Claire! I fought that little man, told him to piss off and jumped in my car. I had the loveliest day with my amazing family.

    Back in the day, that little voice would have consumed me and I would have stayed at home feeling sorry for myself all day.

    My life mantra – little steps.

    So this was longer than I thought, sorry if you’re bored out of your mind, if you got this far congratulations and thank you!

    Anyone reading this, if you feel you need to talk to anyone, need advise, to chat, cry… you name it… I’m here.

    I’m still working on the whole speaking on the phone thing so bear with me on that one, but always at the end of a text/Facebook message/Instagram message bla bla you get it.

    Again, thank you… until next week!

  • Published on

    Penelope Wren Obituary!

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    Jennifer Anne Hathaway (Penelope Wren)
    May 18, 1961 ~ September 2, 2018

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    Jennifer Anne Hathaway, of Pleasant View and Ogden, passed away on Sunday, September 2, 2018 after suffering from a stroke.

    Born on May 18, 1961 in Bitterne, Southampton, England, Jen was the oldest child of Lesley Jeanette Vardy and Michael Richard Ings. She spent her childhood in Fareham, Cornwall, and Singapore.

    Bright and motivated, she excelled in school and graduated in 1982 from Wentworth College, York University with a Bachelors degree in Sociology. A convert to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in her youth, Jen served in the London South Mission, a time she treasured dearly and reflected upon often.

    On May 25, 1985 she married Glenn Hallan in the Southampton LDS Church and they had two children Elizabeth and David. She relocated to the United States in 1999. In addition to her work as a mother Jen worked as a billing analyst. She married Lyden Harold Hathaway on August 4, 2006 in the Mesa Arizona LDS Temple.

    A beloved and devoted wife, daughter, mother, step-mother, and grandmother, Jen loved spending time with her family. She also enjoyed reading, genealogy, journaling, crochet, knitting, and serving in the church, especially her work with the children in the primary.

    Jennifer is survived by her husband, Lyden; parents, Lesley and Michael; children, Elizabeth (Peter) Bracken and David Hallan; grandchildren, Quinn, James, Emma, Genevieve, Juliette, and William; and her sister, Susan (Jeremy) Gray.  She was preceded in death by her step-son, Lohr Hathaway.

    Funeral services will be held on Saturday, September 8, 2018 at 11 a.m. at the Harrisville 5th Ward Chapel, 2360 North 600 West. Friends may visit with family on Friday from 6 to 8 p.m. at Lindquist’s North Ogden Mortuary, 2140 N. Washington Blvd. and Saturday from 9:30 to 10:30 a.m. at the church. Interment, Ben Lomond Cemetery, North Ogden.

    There's still time to send flowers to the Visitation at the Lindquist's North Ogden Mortuary from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM on September 7, 2018.


    Funeral Service
    Saturday
    September 8, 2018
    11:00 AM
    Harrisville 5th Ward
    2360 N 600 W.
    Harrisville, Utah 84404
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  • Published on

    R.I.P. Penelope Wren - Tribute to a Friend!

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    It is with a heavy heart that I have to announce the death of Penelope Wren, guest blogger for 'Roaming Brit' and author of blog 'Once Upon A Wren.' This morning I received a message from her lovely Mother who told me Penelope died on Sunday after suffering from a catastrophic stroke two weeks ago. As I write these words today, I remain in shock, after the death of such a wonderful, inspiring and gracious lady. I was proud to call Penelope a friend and was delighted she played a part in my life at a difficult crossroads, living in Spain and now the UK. Everyone who knew her are overwhelmed by the loss of such a heavenly soul, the World is a poorer place without her.

    Penelope and I crossed paths through our writing; we both attended the same school and had stories to tell, about our lives growing up in the small market town of Fareham, in Hampshire. Penny's life mirrored mine in many ways, we had a lot of interests in common and I was always glad to hear from her. When I was feeling low, I always knew Penny was there for a kindly word or two and I will miss our messages tremendously.

    Once the news has settled in, I will of course like to write about our friendship in greater detail, with the permission of her family. For now I would like to express my gratitude for having known this amazing person, it was indeed a privilege and would like to offer her family my deepest sympathies at this difficult time. The memories she shared with me and the readers of 'Roaming Brit,' will forever live on in the hearts of many, an epitaph to her gentle, dignified nature and the manner in which she conducted her life; she will be missed by all who knew her!

    R.I.P. my dear friend!
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  • Published on

    Walking On Air!

    Family USA penelope-wren
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    Saturday had a twist in store for me in more ways than one. I had planned to do so much that day, but as always my ‘To Do’ list is adventurous and far exceeds the hours and energy available. After exploring a new venue for dinner with friends up in Brigham City, I decided to quickly go shopping so I was ready for the coming week.
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    I zoomed around the store picking up the items on my shopping list, pleased that I could still walk fast and that I hadn’t over eaten at our meal. I was hoping that I would be able to catch up with the things that I hadn’t done on my list due to coming to a complete halt after lunch. I arrived home about 8:15 p.m. and unloaded the shopping, putting the first load on top of the freezer in the garage. I could get it into the house in two trips. I waited patiently as the front of the garage door closed. If my dog got out of the house, I didn’t want her to escape through that garage door. Then I opened the door into our little courtyard or patio, climbed the three steps with the first load of shopping and plonked it on the counter in the kitchen.
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    Before I could turn around, the dog had gone out the back door. ‘She must need to go out,’ I ruminated. Then I realized I that I hadn’t pushed the garage door shut. “Oh no!” I rushed out the back door as I didn’t want the dog to go to the loo in the garage.

    “Where did the steps go?“ I mused as my feet met air. ‘Time seems to have slowed down,’ I continued.

    But all too soon, I met the concrete with a thud and the pain shot up through my body. ‘How stupid!” My mind screamed. I couldn’t get up and I felt like I was going to pass out.

    I must have screamed when I landed as my husband came running out. “I’m hurt!” I exclaimed. I couldn’t get up. He tried to help me but I couldn’t put any weight on my feet. I felt waves of nausea ripple over me and I became very light headed.
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    Eventually, although I don’t remember exactly how, my husband was able to help me inside to the reclining chair and put some ice on my right foot which hurt the most. I’m grimacing in pain but worried about the food that I had left in the garage and the kitchen that could go off in the heat. My husband is adamant that we are going to the Emergency Room. I’m concerned that even though I’m in pain, no-one will believe me and worried about the huge bill that it will generate. However, the pain and my husband’s insistence won the day and we manage to get me into the car. I didn’t have the ability to calm my husband’s anxiety as I was focusing on controlling my pain by trying to relax. I nearly had a panic attack on the way to the car and needed to breathe as best I could on the trip to the hospital.
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    Once we got to ER, my husband pulled up and went to get a wheelchair. A member of the hospital staff helped him and came out with him to get me into the chair. She wheeled me in to get me registered and to go to triage whilst my husband parked the car.

    About twenty minutes later, we are admitted to a room. I’m really glad that they weren’t too busy. Everyone was super nice. My swollen ankles and feet showed them that I was telling the truth even though I was able to mask the pain somewhat. I had a series of x-rays and fortunately for me it turned out that I had not broken anything. Just a sprained left ankle, a sprained right foot and a slightly sprained wrist. I was given a large dosage of ibuprofen for the pain and a brace for my left ankle.

    Taking my feet off the level bed to try and stand up to have lessons on the crutches took my pain back up to a seven from a four or five. A constant throb to excruciating stabs. Training would have to wait until I was at home. I could look up some videos on YouTube. My husband went to get the car.
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    It was pretty tricky trying to get back into that wheel chair again. This time with very little help, the inability to put any weight or pressure on my right foot, the raging pain as the blood rushed down to my feet again, and having to get from the elevated bed to the low chair. I am so glad that I didn’t fall again or twist my left ankle further as I attempted to wheedle myself into the right position to lower myself into that chair. The young lady who was going to give me lessons on the crutches didn’t really know how to help me into this chair. Nor did she know how to get me into the car. But she was excellent at pushing me from the room and out of the hospital to the car! My husband took over and got the wheelchair almost adjacent to the passenger seat and I was able to use my arms to pull myself over to the seat.
    As we drove back home, the Ibuprofen kicked in and the pain dropped to a more manageable level. I am so thankful to the wonderful staff at the hospital, to my wonderful husband who cares so much, and to wonderful medicine and technology. I am thankful that I was wearing a little backpack on my back when I fell which cushioned my back and hips. I am thankful that I didn’t break any bones and that I didn’t live alone. I would still be on that concrete patio right now, unable to get up.

    I became even more sensitive to the needs of others who are confined to wheelchairs for various reasons or have artificial limbs and wonder how they manage? I reflected on their strength and courage to move forwards in their lives and to become as independent as they can.

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    I got used to the crutches as soon as we got home. I wanted to lay down upstairs rather than lay on the couch. The stairs seemed daunting and I wasn’t that good with the crutches. So I relied on skills that I learned many years ago and, once I got my husband to lower me onto the stairs, I turned around and crawled up those stairs. Getting up again when I got to the top was another difficult maneuver and with the help of my husband and one of those crutches I was able to get up.

    By the time I got to lay down in bed it was about 1 a.m. Then my husband and I needed to decompress. I think I fell asleep about 2:30 a.m. I had been awake twenty and a half hours. I wouldn’t recommend trying to walk on air unless you have as much faith in the Saviour as Peter had when he began walking on water.

    Today, I am able to put a little more weight on my right foot; I haven’t been downstairs for three days as I can’t manage them yet. I’m still icing the swelling. The beauty of working remotely is coming into its own as I can hobble to my desk from the bedroom on my crutches. Some kind friends have visited and bought in dinner or yummy treats; my daughter and grandchildren came to visit and brought me little ‘get well’ drawings, lemon bars and some lovely roses to look at as I lay in bed; and I’ve received multiple texts of support and love. All in all I’m on the up and up. My husband is super sweet and attentive although I’m probably driving him crazy with how much water I like to drink! Now to just have a shower ….. that would be soooo nice!

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  • Published on

    Trailing Clouds of Glory!

    Family USA penelope-wren
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    Last Thursday evening, my husband and I began looking after our five grandchildren aged 9, 7, 5, 3 and 21 months, whilst my daughter went into the hospital early Friday morning to deliver her sixth child.

    I think our task was much easier than my daughter’s, although I went back to work this week for a rest! It’s at times like this, that getting old is frustrating with the lessened ability to do as much as I could do in my prime. Nevertheless, we lost none of the children and no-one died. That is a success, right?

    For Friday, Saturday and Sunday, we divided the children up with my daughter’s in-laws. This really helped with getting age appropriate activities going and being able to give the time and attention that the children needed.
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    We received a text and cute pictures of our newest grandson late Friday afternoon. As a mum, it was with great relief that I knew that both Mum and baby were okay and healthy. As all parents know, you never stop worrying about your children and their offspring.

    Saturday morning we took the two little ones to enjoy a few rides on the Canyon Model Railroad that were having a free day. They really enjoyed that. I think Grandma and Papi enjoyed it even more. Could have spent all day riding if it wasn’t for the scorching sun! Then off we went to visit my daughter, her husband and the new baby!
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    In America, it is really cool that the father can stay in the hospital with the mother and the new baby. Everyone has individual rooms with an ensuite. I remember my days in the hospital after the delivery of my children in England. We were in a large ward separated from the other mum’s and babies by a curtain that we would pull around our bed if we wished. My then husband wasn’t allowed to stay. He could come during visiting hours. When I was a child, children weren’t allowed into the hospital. I remember being lifted up and looking in through a window to be able to see my little sister after she was born.

    My daughter was looking really well although tired from the birth and sore from the afterbirth pains (which get worse after each birth). My little new grandson was beyond gorgeous. My daughter’s husband introduced little William to his big little sisters. Both were so gentle with him. I think that the youngest finally understood what we had been telling her about the baby coming out of mummy’s tummy and was amazingly kind and tender to her little new brother. Seems this kindness and love just oozes out of this little girl.
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    Each of my grandchildren have amazing unique qualities that belong just to them. Those qualities came with them when they were born. Being a sociologist, I was always taught that we are a product of our environment. When I had my children I decided to do a social experiment. I had one girl and one boy. Both played with dolls and cars. (Both favourite toys of mine!). I dressed them mostly in unisex clothes and colors. They had the same books and the same opportunities. I know that you can’t control your environment and the way that you behave due to your upbringing so I’m sure that we were modeling many behaviours to our children unconsciously.
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    I was a single mum when my youngest child was four. Dad wasn’t around much for visiting. When my son was a young teenager, he one day turned around to me exclaiming that I used way to many words to explain things and suggested that I became more succinct! He didn’t mean to be sassy, he was just trying to express a frustration. Well, I’m still female and still use a lot of words to convey stuff; but my son showed me that he was very male and wanted concise conversation.

    My daughter and son are like chalk and cheese. I brought them up the same way, but they are very different. They may share some similar mannerisms, but their personalities are distinct and very different. Even as little kids, they were different in the way they reacted to things. My daughter was a go-getter and loved to join in everything. My son would hide behind my skirts and was very retiring.

    So too are my grandchildren. Each one has a very distinct personality and interests. As I held my new little grandson on Saturday, and as I have held my own children and each of my grandchildren as they have entered the world, I am moved to tears at their purity, their innocence, and their glory as they came straight from the presence of God. Wordsworth says it so well:
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    What an honour it is to hold a child of God in my arms! To be entrusted with God’s child to rear, to protect, to teach, to respect, to honour, to nurture and to help them prepare for eternal life back with their Father in Heaven. I am grateful for my call to be a mother and grandmother. I reverence this sacred office and hope that I can do all that is expected of me with the trust that has been given to me by God.

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