Josh Jackson ✨ Soothing Story

Can a childhood idol and a seven-year-old boy bring a struggling mother back to life? Grab a warm drink and join Lynz for an intimate, deeply personal story about navigating the dark waves of postnatal depression, the unorganized chaos of single motherhood, and the musical bond that saved her.

If you are feeling overwhelmed by the pressure to be perfect, or if you simply need a soft space to put life down for a while, this episode is a soul-hugging reminder of how joy and sunshine can sneak back into our homes when we least expect it.

In this episode, we wander through:

• The Weight of a New Chapter: Facing the intense combo of postnatal depression and postpartum comedowns as a young mum in the Midlands.
• The Musical Rocking Chair: How stolen feeding moments and the music of Michael Jackson became a lifeline during the darkest days.
• The Box of Pennies: The painful reality of tight budgets, and swapping a prized CD collection just to put food on the family table.
• June 25th, 2009: Remembering the exact moment the music stopped, and how a heartbreaking piece of news sparked an unexpected obsession in a seven-year-old boy.
• Living Room Thriller: How a house full of young, feral boys transformed into a full-scale dance production, bringing the boogie—and a mum—back to life.

Transcript

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Hello, lovely human. My name is Lynn, and welcome to my little corner of the world. A space where we can cozy up together and just be. I'm a spice of life storyteller. I wonder about the messy business of being human, of living in our own skin, living with others, navigating this wild life and living with loss. Some stories will soothe, some might bring a tear to your eyes, and I hope some will make you smile inside. You can listen anytime, anywhere, whether you're driving the car, walking the dog, snuggled up on the sofa, or listening to this as a bedtime story before you close your eyes. If you find comfort in my words, then come and join my world. You'll get short soul hugging reads delivered to your inbox, early access to this podcast, printable versions of these stories, so you can read them without me in your headphones, and all the insider gossip of up and coming book releases. You'll find all the information and the links you need in the description. But none of that matters now, because here right now, this is your time. Your time to put life down for a while. Take a deep breath and let yourself rest. I'd like to tell you a story. Joshua Jackson My eldest son Josh was born in 2002. He popped out well not exactly popped. Twenty-two hours of induced labour isn't exactly a pop, is it? I'd gone from a tiny framed twenty one year old to a rather large twenty two year old in those nine months, mistaking pregnancy for some kind of license to eat. When he finally did pop out, I still looked pretty pregnant, to the point that a friend of my mum's thought I'd stolen a baby in a pram from some unsuspecting stranger just to have a practice driving it. It was a period of my life where I struggled with my mental health. I'd gone from being a busy kitchen manager to an absolute animal for drink and drugs and dance floors living in London, to the still, sometimes silent and often scream-filled surroundings of a new chapter back in my hometown in the Midlands. I had a newborn baby, and I wasn't sure I had the skills to even keep it alive. Postnatal depression and post party come downs are a killer combination. I was overweight, overwhelmed, under pressure, trying to be perfect, trying to be a good mum, and a million miles removed from who I was nine months previously. So I made the decision to start antidepressants. Even through the struggle, Josh and I built a bond pretty quickly, a special bond, a musical bond. In those brief moments where I was just a milk machine for a tiny human that spent his waking hours being passed around and cooed at by friends and family, and not me, I'd take him for a feed in our special corner of his bedroom, our musical rocking chair. Every minute we spent alone, I sang versions of my songs to him, a lullaby of what I like to call proper music. The most requested, like a newborn can request, were any and all of the Michael Jackson hits. Me, born in the eighties. I adored his music. Every track had been played on repeat via my cassette player and my mum's record player for hours and hours on end during my childhood. I think I drove my parents insane. It was those stolen feeding moments in the rocking chair that genuinely helped me through the first dark wave of postnatal depression. Six years slipped by in a blur, six years of tea times, stinky nappies, and the arrival of more children. By two thousand and nine, I was fresh into a new role, this time as a single mum, dragging up my two boys and my soon to be ex-husband's son. Music somehow had been put on pause. Every day we did our best, but most of the time it just felt like we were going through the motions and keeping a functioning home, keeping everybody fed and watered and me doing everything in my power to stop three young boys from going completely feral. Money was so tight, so tight that I ended up scanning my CD collection into music magpie, packing up my youth into a cardboard box for pennies, just to put food on the table, my prized Motown, my nineties classics, and of course all of my Michael Jackson albums, swapped for tins of spaghetti hoops and chicken dippers. Do you remember June twenty fifth, two thousand and nine lovely human? I do. To me it's up there with Princess Diana and the Twin Towers. We never forget certain points in our life when something happens. The memory stays so vivid. I will never forget where I was when I heard the news. It started as a normal, manic morning, kids doing their feral thing while I tried to do everything all at the same time. Unorganized chaos. I was in my bedroom trying to put my socks on in peace. The radio was a background hum as the kids screamed at each other about their socks or lack of. My childhood dreams were finally going to come true. I don't remember the radio presenter's exact words, how he told the world and the ten year old girl that lived inside of my heart that Michael Jackson had been found dead. I do remember how I felt, how my heart sank, knees buckled, and my body dropped to the bed. I remember feeling like I'd just been punched in the stomach. A seven year old sockless Josh barged in, ready to grass on one of his brothers for something that they'd done. His Mum, George just caught on his lips as he clocked me trying to wipe the tears away with my sock. Mummy, mummy, what's wrong? I told him Michael Jackson had died. He had no idea who he was crying for, but being the beautiful soul he was and still is, he just sat and cried with me, his little body shuddering along with mine. I squeezed him so tight that I didn't want to let that moment end. But Jacko's passing sparked something in Josh. Over the following few weeks Josh became completely obsessed with Michael Jackson. He badgered mum and I for every CD, every poster, every piece of Jacko memorabilia he could find on the internet. His bedroom quickly became a carbon copy of mine when I was his age. He learnt every single word to every single song, and he mastered all of the moves. Josh turned our living room into a full scale dance production, dragging his two brothers and me into the magic with him. Soon we were all lined up, arms out, claw hands posed. We spent hours together choreographing thriller routines, the four of us marching, clawing the air, dancing like zombies in the middle of our living space. Without even knowing it, Josh had brought it all back. He brought the sunshine, he brought the moonlight, he brought the good times, he brought the boogie, but most of all he brought his mum back to life and filled the house with music. He's twenty four now, and we still dance together in the kitchen when a good tune comes on. It's how we both end a stressful day and when MJ comes on you better believe we know all of the dance moves. Thank you, Josh. Thank you for being you my little Joshua Jackson. If you found comfort here today and a friend came to mind while you were listening, please do share this episode with them. It really helps this little corner of the world grow. If you'd like to step even closer, this is your personal invite into my world. Come and join the community. Everything you need is in the description. Rest well, lovely human. Take care of yourself, and I'll catch up with you next week.