Yesterday I helped my stepdad move house. It was a 12 hour day, 2 hours drive there and back (picked my daughter up on the way through), and 8 hours of doing things like assembling Ikea furniture, and cleaning/putting things away. My best friend, who has her own friendship with my stepdad, was there, too.

Now, it could have been hard work; difficult, and stressful, but there was fun and laughter, and while there was an acknowledgement of the tiredness we all felt towards the end of the day, there was good humour, care, and love. We were all there because we wanted to be. No obligation, no strings, just a family working together.

This is so alien to me. I’m used to bad moods and stress and obligation and it being a chore. Now I’m not saying it wasn’t hard work – it was – but the nature underneath wasn’t in any way difficult or toxic. It was how things always should have been.

I love my family. I have amazing siblings, who I love very dearly. I have a stepdad (thanks, Mum), and a stepmum (thanks, Dad), both of whom I value highly and love a great deal. I have my partner (and by extension, his family), my best friend and her family, and of course, my wonderful daughter. I am really blessed and so grateful to be a part of such an awesome group of people. When I’m feeling bitter about having lost my Dad, or being NC with my Mum, it helps to remind myself of the family I do have, and how well loved I am.