Hey Reader,

A few weeks ago, my mum led me into the kitchen. "Scott, there's something I need to tell you." She steadied herself. "You know those tests I had before you went to Paris?"

"Yeah."

"Well, the results weren't good, I'm afraid..."

She told me the news, but I didn't really hear it. Stage one. Cancer. The rest of the conversation was a blur.

We hugged each other tightly.

Later that night, I rehearsed what I would say at my mum's funeral should the day come. It was too much for me. I sobbed into my pillow.

I've barely been able to concentrate on anything since.

So why am I telling you this?

Honestly, I'm not sure yet. I'm vaguely hoping that I share something helpful.

My therapist and close friends have also been encouraging me to share how I feel. Writing positive affirmations has helped. "I'm a smart, capable man." "I have lots of strengths." "I achieve what I set out to achieve."

But there are good and not-so-good days.

Perhaps, then, this is just a reminder that everyone's struggling with something - even the ones who have their "sh*t together". We only see a fraction of their lives. We don't see under the hood.

And as much as I bang on about writing and freelancing, I've been rudely awakened by something we all inherently know:

People matter.

Friendships matter.

Family matters.

My mum's got her operation tomorrow, and we're hoping it goes smoothly. Best case? It goes without a hitch, and she spends the next 3-4 months recovering. Worst case?

I don't want to think about that.

So I probably won't be posting that much over the next few months, but I hope to send you another email in two weeks' time.

Thanks for being here, and I appreciate you reading this far.

It means a lot to me.

Speak soon,

Scott