I have been in some turmoil as summer rolls on.

In 6 weeks, both my girls will be at school full time. I have often thought this would be my time to chase dreams and to be what I wanted to be (I.e. a play therapist).

Then cerebral palsy, via my big toe for goodness sake, had to remind me that before I can be myself, I am vulnerable to the deterioration of this body I have no choice but to live in.

I am currently incapable of walking even a mile at a time. I am too far forward, slamming into my overburdened big toe so it is constantly rigid and agonising because even though it hurts, I do not know of any other way to hold myself that will allow me to keep my balance. There is no other way that this body can move.

I am feeling sad and lost because I do not know what the future holds. I’ll pause here to say, yes, I am very aware that no-one can know, regardless of disability. I’ll also say how heartily sick and tired I am of able bodied people being the ones that take the time and pains to point this out to me.

I am 35 years old. I am only 18 months into my mental health recovery. I am only just born over to myself, for the first time ever. I am learning to like myself, only now learning that I am deserving of my own love and care. So maybe even if now is not the time to burden myself with years of study (again), I can at least start taking care of myself, with meditation and exercise, yes?

Well, no, because now it hurts to walk. It is entirely unfair. I have asked all the questions I know to ask of all the medical professionals I have access to. No-one seems in any hurry to offer answers, though I recognise this may be the burden of a reactive, not preventative NHS.

I feel a little robbed, because I no longer know what I am capable of, because I can no longer rely on my body in the ways I thought I knew. I am stuck, while my daughters grow and get ready to go on their next adventure and I shall be alone for the first time since Squidge was born, 7 and a half years ago.

Squidge asked me the other day what I would do when she and Gabster were at school in September. I was truthful and told her I am excited to be at home, drinking tea and reading books at my leisure (my reading list is currently 2 years long!) because I am. With all that spare time, I will be able to be deicated to my girls when they come home from school because I can get everything else done in my own time. I think it will do a lot for my mental health and the constant guilt mothers live with.

But at the same time, I confessed, since I hadn’t been without at least one of their company for so many years, I worried I’d be lonely. I’d always relied on the idea that boredom would be a good motivator, in fact, the ultimate motivator for taking up studying again so that I could finally become a play therapist, but what if?

What if, at 35, I am too tired? What if my body is too worn and there is no fix coming?

I cannot know the answer. And that hurts because, I have not fully lived the life I had planned. That is the lament of people twice my age isn’t it? It’s what people wonder when they are near the end. I am halfway through. This is not fair. And yet still, there is nothing I can do, except plan for a life that matches only the condition I am in. So, I plan to do nothing for now.

I will turn from the school gate in September and head home to drink tea and read books, resting a sore foot.

I can only hope that the medical profession will see fit to remember that I am here, that I have asked for help, to give me back the quality of life I know quite literally in my bones it is not unreasonable for a 35 year old to expect.