I Am Beyoncé

Julia Salcedo Lawson - 8 Jan 20

I am Beyoncé. Standing tall, legs wide, super hero stance. When you feel like a shrivelled up scribble, stepping into this hot woman’s shoes in my head makes me straighten up. I wonder who Beyoncé imagines she is when she’s having an off day?


When I last posted in July, things in my head were not great. And if I’m honest, they’re still not. Life feels a bit of a survival game right now. Imagine Wipeout. You know the best game show that was ever on telly. I always wanted to go on that….anyway, I digress.


So Wipeout. I’m powering on. My grief has spun me around 16 times on a metaphorical roundabout and then pushed me off to tackle the terrain of the obstacle course like nothings happened. I jump onto the inflatable slide. This bits not too bad. I get covered in gunk but I don’t care, I’m just moving but don’t need much effort. Then comes that sucker punch wall. I try my best to hang on but my grip is slippy and then woah…gall bladder needs removing! I’m back on the wall, edging forwards…ouch right in the throat…absess needs draining….it’s ok I’m back on it now…jab to the stomach…sickness bugs x3, tonsillitis, poorly babies for what feels like an eternity, tag teaming temperatures, sleepless nights, doctor runs. Wash my hands, I’m back on the wall. Grip is better then BUMFFF…husband rushed to hospital coughing up blood…I’m in the mud puddle and my helmets all wonky. I drag myself out slowly, I stink, I’m so tired but this won’t beat me. Hospital runs, school runs…just keep the feet running, walking, pulling up and soon it’ll dry and release me and I’m off again…sprinting to the next obstacle.
Last year was just a bit shit really. But you carry on. I am Beyoncé.


Then Christmas. The second one without my Mum. It was harder than the first in so many ways. Less shock padding the cell and more hard edges to bump into. Everything seems perfectly normal looking around but it all feels wrong. The loss hits you in ways you least expect. Texting my sister to announce the online Christmas shopping slots were open, hit me like a wall, something we and my Mum got excited about each year. Buying gifts for everyone but not for her. Missing the pile of thoughtful Mum bought necessities, new mascara, diaries, ridiculously expensive candles. Nothing that I couldn’t live without but items that made life a little nicer. Mum touches. Missing my Mums touch. Her hand on my face. Her arms around my babies. Her voice on the phone. Her face. Just her. I miss all of her.


2020. I am still here. Still Beyoncé on the days I need her. Just now Beyoncé on beta blockers. To help with the heart palpitations I’ve had since losing my Mum and to hopefully stop the whirring, endless mental thoughts that literally made me feel I was losing my mind last year. And we are only 8 days into this one so it might still be lost at this point. Together with the medication, I’m clinging to the things in my life that hold my head above water. My babies. The three people who are literally made out of sun beams and fill my eyes and my soul with pure joy. And dancing. Teaching my classes is therapy and a tiny part of my week where I get to reconnect with who I am pre babies, pre marriage, pre grief. And wine. And my family. And blue cheese.


I’m onto the big red balls next. I’m a little scared but I’m running at it. I’m gonna jump and hope I bounce off each one with the elegance and aplomb of Darcy Bussell but as I imagine, judging on last year and my non existent ballet skills, I may hit the first one, bounce off at a funny angle and belly flop straight back into the mud. I’ll get back out again. It might just take a while and if I’m gone too long, call Beyoncé. She always knows what to do.


Julia Salcedo Lawson

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