Life at the knackers Yard

As an introduction to my Blog, Life at the Knackers Yard I’ll start by telling you something about me? Hmm. This is the question I dread to put on my CV. They say you have to sell yourself without being too big headed, the only people I know that can do that are prostitutes. Anyway, I’m a 35 Year old wife to my magnificent husband. I am also a mother to two amazing sons Who are 17 and 13 yrs. I know most people would say those things about their family but the difference here is that they not only have to but choose to put up with me. Not because I nag, pry and get all premenstrual on them, no. It’s because I have an auto-immune disease called lupus.

For people who have just googled Lupus as I had to 9 years ago, isn’t it just a crazy ass disease to have? So as I said my husband and kids are happy with me, but my own body hates me, trying to kill me from the inside out. For those that have or know someone with an auto-immune disease you’ll know that it doesn’t always isolate to one area.In fact in more cases than not it attacks as wildly and as viciously as a pack of wolves. I myself have had a steep decline over the last 18 Months when my counselor suggested I should write a Blog. Not only might it help even just one other person, it also serves as a good way to process what is happening to you and your family who very often are overlooked.

So as with any chronic illness their are inevitable extras, not the nice extras like stealing condiments from an overpriced cafe, no, these are as unwanted as the disease itself and can often be worse. Hence the title, there are more days now after 9 yrs of illness that I feel I am already a resident of the knackers yard. This Blog though won’t just be about Illness¬†will be about whatever maybe on my mind at that moment. If it helps anyone else on the world wide web then I’d be delighted. But this is more for myself, my way of trying to reflect on my feelings in a better way than I do now which is usually either shouting or bawling.

Thanks for Reading.

Emma.

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