Back in Trevella, Cornwall: Finding the happy

It feels like I am wrapped in a tight warm blanket, one that has comforted me through the years and creates a sensation of familiarity and security.

I’m back in Cornwall, the place that holds my heart, the sanctuary I crave for through the years.

And I was ready.

The last few months have been hard, I have written little in this space, where humour used to drip from my typing fingers, only a hollow seems to have lingered. Whilst coping with how life has changed in twelve months I feel like I have been invaded with a sadness at times that has been impossible to shake.

Raising three kids alone is bloody tough at times, not wanting to be alone, but lacking the enthusiasm to date, or discovering the dating sites are full of odd balls can be – well a ball ache.
A few months ago, I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise the woman looking gloomily back at me.   My laughter lines looked more like wrinkles from lack of use, my eyes were dull from the daily glass of wine I craved to see me through.

All around me life was being lived and I felt it was passing me by.

I saw the doctor, I was almost crippled with fright in the waiting room.  How had I ended up here? I was always the strong one. The adventurer, the one who could cope with anything and still find the funny.

But I had forgotten how to laugh.

But then, talking out loud helped.

It was the first step.

I got the giggles in the surgery as I recanted the last few years.  First it was epilepsy, then hips, then diabetes, and a few bits in between. Finally divorce.

I was knackered recalling it, never mind living it.

The doctor passed me tissue after tissue, nodded in all the right places, and politely ignored the snot that dangled delicately from my nose.

She gave me a host of literature on depression, anxiety, and a hug.  Arranged for me to come back in a couple of weeks to discuss ways of helping alleviate the cloud.

I walked out with hope.

Then the change began. I changed my diet. Increased my exercise, poured the wine away (with a heavy heart) and took a day at a time.

And I started to laugh, and managed to fit back into my jeans which was a fabulous side effect.

Three months on, here I am. Strong, a bit slimmer and smiling.

And returning to Trevella in Crantock is simply the icing on the cake.

The sun has shone, we have ridden the waves, I have sat by the sea in a rare moment of calm. I have drank too much wine, for fun rather than to ease sadness. White wine is still not my friend.

My best friend joined us, between us we have shepherded six kids around beaches, towns and theme parks.  It is like herding cats most of the time, and our favourite child changes hourly.  I have laughed every second, I have not even thought of a sob.

Trevella is as beautiful as ever, the kids roam free as safety is never an issue.  I have always professed that this place has healing powers…

I feel like I am home, and bloody hell, I’m really happy.