By the time I was well enough to return to work Dancing Queen was out of school for the summer holidays.  And like many of us I found there was no time for blogging.  Let’s be honest there’s hardly time for cutting your toenails. 

 I was trying to resolve the school issue with my Local Authority (as was the Head Teacher to be fair) but getting nowhere. 

 I returned to my work to find there were many changes.  Some good, some not so good.

 The problems with the Economy were now hitting us badly and I was more aware of how much Beatles man did for us, and how stressed he was.

I was trying to work out a Personal budget for a Self Directed Support Package and finding it very very frustrating (despite having a fair bit of knowledge on this).

 I was trying to entertain my girl.

And I was trying to live my life.

 I mentioned earlier that I met up with some school friends.  Some of them had always been in my life, we had stayed in touch.  But I hadn’t seen most of them since I was at school.  This year we turned 50 and somehow I found myself at a lunch reunion, there were 16 of us.  And oh it was wonderful.  The Lenny Lassies are an amazing group.  Some of us met at Primary School and others at Secondary.  Hearing about all the paths we took was great.  And someone asked me if I still wrote.  I had talked for years to Beatlesman about starting to write again, and done nothing about it.  Life gets in the way.  Or is that an excuse?

We talked about our lives and sadly about those who hadn’t made it, about health scares and battles won or lost. 

Turning 50 and realising how fragile life was made me take a good long look at myself. And as usual Beatlesman listened and supported me.

I was no longer happy in my job.  Although it seemed utterly mad, given the financial situation and the Economy in general he convinced me that my being happy and fulfilled was more important to him than money.

 So ...

 I handed in my notice. 

 I signed up for a Creative Writing course at Glasgow University’s Adult Education Department. I started this in September and I love it.

 I failed the driving test for the 5th time (hangs head in shame). 

 I took my yappy campaigning mouth to Holyrood, Bute House and to meetings with Civil Servants and Ministers. 

 I spent time thinking about what if anything I had achieved and what I wanted to.  I never did become the woman my 16 year old self wanted to be.  But who I am is okay.  I was always mouthie, bolshie and a lefty.  My friends reminded me I was always passionate, and that remains true.  I believe that each of us has the capacity to change lives without really much effort, by simply being open minded and non judgmental.

 I am prattling again, that hasn’t changed either. 

 I spoke recently with someone from fsdc.  We talked about the project and the coalition and what I as a parent wanted from it.  We talked about the purpose and how we measured success.  And I said, and I believe it, that I am concerned at how we will measure the success of the Liaison Project and The Diary Project.  How do you measure success?  How do we define it?  Is it a tick box exercise where we work out how many people have participated or responded?

 I don’t think it can, or should, be.  I have spent the best part of ten years being pro-actively involved as a parent, as a volunteer, trustee, employee in all things ‘parent/carer of a child with disability’ related.  I have listened as speakers told me how they would be happy if “one person was reached or helped by them”.   How many times have we heard or said that?  I still do, and again I believe it.  It may sound crass, but if you are that one person who has just had someone make sense of your life, if you have just realised you are not alone, or if you are the person lucky enough to make a jot of difference to another person in the same boat’s life... well you know that it matters, it can literally be the difference between surviving or not.

 I can’t say how many people have been reached by this project.  But they are out there.  I am one of them.  Through fsdc I met others who understood my situation.  Then we became friends.  Friendship with people who get you, who support you - that means more than money.  You cannot put a price on that.  And I am not alone, I know that. 

 I said at the beginning of this blog that it was important for those who read this to understand that silence doesn’t mean nothing is going on.  The sound of silence on these pages probably had a great deal to do with the fact that the participants were busy dealing with their stresses and living their lives.  And busy, making a difference.

 I can’t tell you why they haven’t written, it is not my place.  But I will tell you that over the last few months and right up to today they have been busy.  Writing blogs for the Herald; giving interviews on isolation; forming their own support organisations; blogging on being the hardest hit; campaigning and fighting for change.

 Although I have been quiet on here, as have the others we have not been silent, we just had to take our voice elsewhere for a wee while. Sometimes you need to look and listen carefully even to the sound of silence.  For it really can speak volumes if you just think about it.