By coffee number ten, I'd finally managed to pour the milk in the right cup. My six-year-old helped. She didn't make a big deal of it. A week later, I thought I'd cracked it — only to drop the whole cup when I lifted it with my stroke hand. And I just stood there in my kitchen, surrounded by the mess, thinking: Sisyphus. Pushing the boulder up the mountain. Watching it roll back down. Getting up tomorrow and doing it all again. That's the thing nobody tells you when you sign

Lived experience matters. Peer Support: A Real Route To Representation.

Fighting for continuity of care. Becoming your own best friend.