For most, football is about hanging out with friends, watching your team and supporting through thick and thin. For me, yes it is also about just that, but it’s part of a much bigger picture.
I care for my nan. If you’ve never cared for someone you love then it’s hard to explain. Sometimes it feels like running a race you know you can never win, it’s never being able to fall asleep properly because you’re listening for footsteps or her little voice calling out. There’s remembering to make sure she has her meds at the correct times, constant worrying; Is she warm enough? Has she eaten enough? It’s worrying when I do get the chance to kick back and relax with my friends. The guilt.
My brain is always loud. Apart from when I’m watching football. Whether I’m at home, watching the game with my nan right by my side, both of us with a cup of tea in our hands, or in the stadium surrounded by my people, my friends who I’ve met through the beautiful game. They’ve helped me through every aspect of this journey quietly supporting me from the sidelines.
For 90 minutes the world goes quiet. I’m not sure what it is about football that does it for me, maybe it’s the atmosphere, the way it’s so structured in the game, just like it is at home. But I think the thing that probably does it for me most is the way I feel safe. For those 90 minutes nothing else in the world matters. And then there’s the moments when the 90 minutes are over. The stroll from the stadium to the post match meet up, the conversations over a pint that go long into the evening. I feel seen, and most importantly I feel loved.
Then there’s the games I watch from home. Nan sometimes struggles to follow the game, but she’s always watching. Glasses on, cuppa in hand, right by my side. We rarely miss a game. The excitement she gets on the morning of game days is unmatched. She’ll pipe up with her own running commentary of the game. ‘What a goal that was my darling’ the way her face lights up when her favourite players score. And for a while, we aren’t carer and cared for; we’re simply two women watching the thing we love.
Self care is different for everyone. But for me it’s football. The Lionesses had to fight so hard to be taken seriously, to keep going when it would have been much easier to stop. I get that more than most. That’s just how I feel about looking after my nan.
After the final whistle the noise comes back, thinking about what tomorrow will bring, all the meds I have to give. But it’s much quieter than it was before the game. It makes me remember that there is a world so full of joy outside these four walls. And I am still part of it.
Nan will call me in a minute, she’ll want a cup of tea, a snack or even just a hug. But I carry those 90 minutes with me into the week. And on the hard days, that’s enough.
