I’m exhausted

Yesterday, I woke at 3.30am. Then 4am. Then 5am.

I was so anxious about sleeping in and missing my flight that I barely slept at all. I knew how much the day mattered. I had to get there. I had to explain it properly. I had to make the most of the opportunity to talk about Joshua and why things need to change.

By 7.30am, I was at the airport. Through security, waiting for the gate to be announced.

Then the plane was delayed.

My first meeting had to be cancelled. Before I had even reached London, I was already tired, anxious and watching the clock.

Land at Stansted. Get the train into London. Underground to Westminster. Grab something quick to eat. Keep moving.

Then sit down with Ministers and officials and try to explain why The Joshua Test is so important. Why I have spent the last ten months throwing myself into learning everything I possibly can about railings, balustrades, inspections and the legislation that is supposed to keep people safe.

All these things I never imagined I would need to know.

I needed to understand how something that was there to protect my son could fail him. I need to know what can be done to stop it happening to someone else.

And while I was explaining, I started crying.

I was embarrassed. I wish I hadn’t felt embarrassed, but I did. I try so hard to keep my grief in check in public. To explain things clearly. To make sure people understand the proposals and why they matter.

But sitting there, talking about the reason for all this, I couldn’t keep it in.

I was talking about my son. And I was exhausted.

For the last ten months, I haven’t stopped.

There is such a strong sense of duty inside me. I feel I have to do everything I can to save another family from this pain. I know what it feels like to lose Joshua. I cannot bear the thought of another parent finding themselves here when something could have been done.

And alongside that, I feel I have to keep strong for everyone else. When people around me aren’t coping, I feel I have to keep going for them too.

I’m grieving. I’m tired. Sometimes I haven’t got enough left to hold myself together, never mind everyone else.

Yesterday’s meeting mattered enormously to me. I’m grateful to the Ministers and officials for their time and for listening. I felt hopeful about the start of a positive working relationship.

I still came out exhausted.

Then it was straight into rush hour. So many people. The heat on the Tube. So many stairs. Trying to get back across London and out to Stansted.

I just wanted my bed.

By the time I reached the airport, mouth ulcers were starting. I could feel how run down I was. But there was still the walk to the gate, still the waiting, still another flight.

My phone battery was dead. So was my social battery.

I wanted to shut out the world. I didn’t want to talk or explain anything else. I wanted to get home.

We landed at Belfast International at 10.40pm.

Then the drive home.

The fog on the Glenshane Pass was horrendous. The visibility was so poor, and I was so tired. Home still felt too far away.

I got through my door at 11.55pm.

At 6.30am, my little girl woke me.

And we go again.

I’m writing this because this is part of the campaign too. It’s what happened around the meeting and the photographs. The anxiety, the travelling, the tears, the journey home, and getting up again a few hours later because my family still needs me.

I want change. I feel that duty every day. I want to help protect people, and I want something good to come from all this pain.

But I also want my son.

And I’m so tired. 🩵

A shout-out to everyone fighting for answers, change and accountability while carrying their own pain. It’s exhausting. I know. Sending love and solidarity to every one of you. 🩵