Missing Pieces

 

I see the photos. The milestones. The laughter frozen in time. But the moments themselves? 

 

They slip through my fingers like water, leaving only the ache of absence behind.  

I am a mother. I know this in every bone of my being. I have nurtured, comforted, and loved with everything I have. And yet, when people ask, “Do you remember their first cuddle? Their first steps?” I can only smile,  because the truth is, I don’t.  

 

 

It’s not that I wasn’t there. I was. But ADHD has woven gaps into my memory, moments lost before I could collect them. The firsts, the milestones, the tiny hands in mine, all missing from the album in my mind.  

And it isn’t just my children’s moments. It’s my own. My childhood exists in stories told by others. “Remember when…?” they ask. And I don’t.  

 

 

 

 

ADHD is often misunderstood, reduced to stereotypes of hyperactivity and distraction. But it’s more than that. Research shows that ADHD affects brain networks responsible for memory and executive function, making it harder to retain and recall moments

In the UK, diagnoses have risen, particularly among adults, as awareness grows. Yet, societal perceptions still lag behind.  

Some see ADHD as an excuse, a lack of discipline, or even a cultural construct. Others dismiss the struggles, unaware of the grief that comes with forgetting pieces of your own life. The stigma can shape medical treatment, access to support, and even self-worth

I grieve for the memories I will never hold. For the snapshots I never took. For the details forever just out of reach.  

But here’s what I do have, love that exists beyond recollection. A lifetime of laughter, even if I don’t remember its first spark.  Bonds that were built through actions, through presence, through a love that does not need memory to be real.  

So maybe I don’t remember the first cuddles. The first steps. But I remember this

 

I was there. 

 

And maybe, just maybe, that is enough.  

Friendship in the Click of a Button: How My Virtual WI Became a Lifeline

 

I never thought I’d be the kind of person who found real friendships through a screen. Sure, I knew the internet could be a wonderful place, full of cat videos, questionable life hacks, and an endless supply of crafting tutorials. But a space where I could build genuine friendships? A space where I could show up, even on my worst days? That felt like wishful thinking.  

And yet, here I am, grateful for every Zoom call, every message, and every virtual meet-up that has made my WI one of the most meaningful spaces in my life.  

 

 

It turns out, community doesn’t require a physical room, it just needs people willing to show up, whether that’s at full energy or just enough to be present. And as someone who doesn’t exactly thrive in silence, I’ve found my role - keeping the conversation alive, making sure no one feels left in the quiet, and, volunteering to organize the speakers.  

Yes, I somehow became the programme planner, which means I spend a lot of time ensuring our group gets a variety of talks that suit everyone. History, crafts, life hacks, important discussions, it’s all about finding something to spark interest. Because when the screen goes quiet, I’m often the one filling the gaps, throwing out a question, making sure that awkward silence doesn’t settle in too comfortably.  

And the best part? This isn’t just a group of names on a screen, I’ve met some of them in person, turning virtual connections into real-world friendships. Whether it’s online or face-to-face, the warmth stays the same. The kindness, the support, the feeling that, no matter how I show up - talkative, exhausted, fully engaged or just listening, it’s enough.

This virtual WI has become more than just an online meeting. It’s a space where friendships grow without pressure, where laughter carries through screens, and where being seen, heard, and valued isn’t dependent on physical presence.  

So, if anyone ever wonders whether virtual friendships can be real, take it from me - they absolutely can. And sometimes, they’re often the ones that matter the most.  

Why not come and find out more at Virtual Vixens WI?

 

 

 

 

Things I Wish People Knew About Hidden Disabilities (Because Apparently, It’s Still a Mystery)

I was in a supermarket queue, parked in my scooter, mentally calculating whether I had enough energy left to unload my basket at the checkout without incident. That’s when I heard it.

“You’d know if they were struggling though, wouldn’t you ?”

Oh boy. Here we go.

I wasn’t planning on overhearing a debate about my existence while waiting for checkout, but life comes at you fast. Hidden disabilities are called ‘hidden’ for a reason, yet some people seem convinced they come with flashing neon signs. Surely, if someone were in pain, overstimulated, or dealing with chronic fatigue, it would be obvious. Maybe a dramatic fainting spell for effect? Collapse on the floor and roll around in pain? Something visible enough to be taken seriously?

Life doesn’t work that way.

Since I didn’t have the energy to launch into an impromptu TED Talk in the bread aisle, I’m putting it here instead. Because honestly? The world would be a much easier place if more people got it.

“You Don’t Look Disabled” Is Not a Compliment - It’s a Problem

Ah yes, because disabilities are meant to be aesthetic. Mine isn’t a tragic movie plot complete with an orchestral score, it’s just daily life. Smiling through pain. Navigating obstacles people don’t see. And yes, sometimes parked in a queue hoping the energy meter doesn’t hit empty before I reach the till.

I could pretend it’s fine. That I’m fine. That I’m ‘just tired’ and ‘it’s nothing.’ But it’s not nothing. It’s everything.

 

Accessibility Isn’t Just About Wheelchair Ramps - It’s About Reality

Ramps are great. So are lifts, but have you tried processing small print when your brain feels like it’s buffering? Or enduring the blaring lights and endless noise of a packed supermarket while your nervous system screams?

Every step is a negotiation. My body sending warning signals, my mind trying to override them. I reach the checkout, my heart pounding, not from exertion, but from the quiet knowledge that even this, this, is a battle I’ll pretend isn’t happening. 

 

Living with Chronic Illness: The Ultimate Mystery Box

Some days, I can breeze through a shopping trip. Other days, holding a box of cereal feels like weightlifting.

It’s like showing up to a marathon only to realize you started the race yesterday, and everyone else is running while you’re trying to remember how to move.

 

Willpower Won’t Cure My Disability

Oh wow, what insight! I’ll just try harder to make my body cooperate! I’ll just push through brain fog! I’ll just override my disability through sheer willpower! 

 

Small Acts of Understanding Aren’t Small - They’re Everything

The best thing you can do? Believe people. If someone asks for accommodations, assume they actually need them. If a friend cancels plans again, trust they’re not making excuses, they’re managing their reality. Adjust, be flexible, and recognize that kindness makes the world easier for everyone. 

 

Kindness is free, but understanding? That changes lives. 

 

Final Thought: Thoughtfulness Adds Up, Action Matters

 

That overheard conversation reminded me, it’s not about fixing everything, but about doing something. A bit of thoughtfulness goes a long way. 

 

The more we talk about this, the better things get, but action matters too. Next time you see someone requesting accommodations or struggling, take a second to support, not question. 

 

Seen or experienced something that made a difference?

Let’s swap stories. Because every conversation helps move the needle forward.

Morning Moves and Chocolate Curfews: Lessons from Sally McFerrin

Some mornings, the mere thought of getting out of bed feels like an Olympic event. Enter Sally McFerrin, mindfulness coach and all-around wise human, who joined us on the podcast to share her secrets for starting the day with energy and joy. And let me tell you—her advice works! 

Sally suggested music and dancing first thing in the morning to shake off that groggy feeling and invite movement and positivity into our day. So naturally, I found myself boogieing in bed, throwing in some dramatic shoulder rolls and what can only be described as an interpretive "wiggle of life." Did I look ridiculous? Absolutely. Did I feel better? Unquestionably! Might I actually get out of bed today? The odds are looking good.

One suggestion of hers I might...adjust...is the idea of cutting down on chocolate (gasp!). I mean, she did say it’s fine in moderation—but apparently, once darkness falls, chocolate consumption should cease. This raises a few important life questions, like: What about cozy nighttime snacks? And are we counting the brief British summer nights? Because, frankly, I plan to use the loophole. Thank you, long evenings, for keeping post-sunset chocolate dreams alive. 

Another delightfully unexpected mood booster today? A phone call from my cousin in Australia. There’s something magical about reminiscing over shared moments, swapping stories, and laughing until your stomach hurts, even from thousands of miles away. 

So, what have I learned? 

1. Dancing in the morning is a game-changer.

2. Chocolate rules are made to be bent (within reason, of course).

3. Joy sneaks up on you in the most unexpected places—whether through a song, a dance, or a long-distance giggle-fest.

All in all, thanks to Sally and some well-timed laughter, today is off to a brilliant start. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more dancing to do—and possibly some strategic chocolate planning before nightfall.

 

please listen to myself and Emma chat to Sally on 'Voice of the Vixens' podcast 

https://open.spotify.com/show/40gJuZgEcriK2dUnK3tioD?si=630ce04f99c648ab