While my hero was losing his fight, I had a battle of my own

IN AN AGE OF COMPARISON CULTURE AND GLOSSY SOCIAL-MEDIA LIVES, IT’S HARD NOT TO QUESTION YOUR OWN PROGRESS. BUT THERE’S NO RIGHT PATH TO LIFE AS THESE WOMEN, WHO ARE TURNING CONVENTION ON ITS HEAD AND SHARING WISDOM AS THEY GO, DEMONSTRATE…

While my hero was losing his fight, I had a battle of my own

MY mum and dad don’t live together. They split up two years ago, when I was eight. I mostly live with Mum, in our cosy semi-detached house where I have my own bedroom. But I also have my own room in D

Grief is unpredictable. There I was in May, getting ready for a Kylie concert – my eyeliner had gone on perfectly and my mind was racing. Would my hair go flat after an hour on the Tube? Would the kid

I WOKE up after a vivid dream of Eleanor. I’d had quite a few recently. Eleanor was my half-sister. She was older than me – the daughter of Dad’s first wife, Dorrie. My mum only found out he had a fir