Monday Check-In — How are you this week?

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Monday Check-In — How are you this week?

Morning everyone. I thought I’d start something new here — a weekly space for us to just… check in with each other. No big revelations required, no profound insights needed. Just where you’re at right now.

My week’s been a mixed bag, honestly. Had a good moment yesterday when I was walking through Camden Market and saw this kid, maybe 8 years old, having an absolute meltdown because his mum wouldn’t buy him some overpriced toy. And instead of feeling that usual stab of pain — you know the one — I actually smiled. Because I remembered my daughter Sophie doing exactly that when she was little, right by the lock there. Same dramatic flair, same crocodile tears.

For about ten minutes, I just felt… normal? Like a dad who has sweet memories instead of this constant ache.

But then this morning I woke up and the first thing I thought was “I wonder if she’s started year 9 okay.” She would’ve gone back to school last week. I don’t know if she’s nervous about new teachers, if she made it onto the netball team like she wanted, if she still hates packed lunches. I don’t know any of it, and that hit me fresh again.

It’s been three years since I’ve known anything about her September. Three years of guessing.

So that’s me — one foot in healing, one foot in the grief. Some days it feels like I’m making progress, others like I’m right back at square one. But I’m here, and I’m still fighting for connection with her, even if it looks different now than I thought it would.

How about you? Whether you’re having a terrible week, a surprisingly okay one, or something in between — I’d love to hear from you. Even if it’s just “I’m struggling” or “I managed to get through Monday.”

We’re all just figuring this out as we go.

Malcolm

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Same here with the September thing. My kids started school three weeks ago and I have no clue how any of it went.

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I love this idea, Malcolm. The mixed bag thing — that’s exactly where I am most days.

I had my own version of your Camden Market moment last week. Was listening to this meditation podcast and the teacher was talking about impermanence, how everything changes, including pain. And for the first time in months I actually believed her instead of just going through the motions. It lasted maybe an hour before I was back to wondering if my youngest still does that thing where she hums while she eats cereal.

The not knowing is the hardest part, isn’t it? I keep a journal now and some days I write letters to them that I’ll never send. Sounds mad but it helps me feel like I’m still being their mum somehow, even in this weird suspended state we’re all living in.

This week I’m trying to be gentler with myself about the back-and-forth between hope and grief. My therapist Sarah calls it “riding the waves” which usually makes me roll my eyes, but honestly, some days that’s all we can do.

Thanks for starting this. It feels good to just say where we are without having to fix anything.

Lisa x

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God, the not knowing about school. That’s exactly where I’m at right now too.

Mine would be starting high school this term and I have no clue if they’re nervous, excited, or even which school they ended up at.

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Malcolm, this really got to me. That moment in Camden Market — I know exactly what you mean about those flashes of normal. Last month I was in town and heard this girl laughing with her mates, proper belly laughing, and for a split second I thought “that sounds like our Mia.” Not the painful kind of thinking, just… remembering how she used to crack up at the daft jokes her little brother would tell.

I’m doing alright this week, all things considered. Had a tiny breakthrough actually — my youngest, Jack, he’s 16 now, sent me a photo on Saturday. Just a random snap of his breakfast, nothing deep, but it was the first time he’d sent me anything that wasn’t prompted by a birthday or Christmas. I nearly cried staring at that plate of beans on toast because it felt like such a normal thing for a teenager to do, you know? Share something completely mundane with their mum.

The not knowing is the hardest bit, isn’t it? I lie awake wondering if Jack’s still doing his A-levels, if he passed his driving theory, if Mia (she’s 19 now) ever thinks about the little traditions we used to have. Like you with Sophie’s September — I missed three years of their Septembers too before Jack started reaching out properly. The wondering never really stops, but I’m learning to hold it more gently somehow. Still hurts like hell some days though.

Keep going, love. Those Camden Market moments matter more than you know.

Dawn x

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That thing about Camden Market hit me right in the chest, Malcolm. i know that exact feeling — when a random moment with someone else’s kid suddenly brings back something good instead of just pain.

My boys are back with me now (it took five bloody years) but I still get those morning thoughts about all the September’s I missed. Josh started year 7 last week and when he was moaning about his new uniform being itchy, I found myself thinking about all the school mornings I wasn’t there for. The packed lunches I didn’t make, the “have you got your PE kit” conversations that never happened.

Even when you get them back, those gaps don’t fill in. They’re just… there. But having Josh complain about his itchy collar whilst eating toast — that’s pretty wonderful too, even with the ache of what I missed.

You’re right about one foot in healing, one in grief. Think that might just be how it is.

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The school thing hits so hard. My middle one Emma just started 7th grade and I have NO idea how it went. Did she remember her locker combination? Is she still friends with that girl Kaylee? Did she get the math teacher she was worried about?

I used to know EVERYTHING. What she packed for lunch, what shoes she wore, if she finished her science project. Now I’m just… guessing at her whole life. It’s been 8 months since our last real conversation and I still catch myself saving up little stories to tell her later, then remembering there is no later right now.

But yesterday I actually laughed at something stupid on TV instead of just staring at it. Small wins, right? Some days I feel like I’m clawing my way back to human, other days I’m drowning in legal paperwork and wondering if I’ll ever see them again. Today’s somewhere in between.

Thanks for starting this Malcolm. We need more spaces just to say “this sucks but I’m still here.”