Well, no one died today.

 

Except me perhaps from self flagellation and mental bashing as I misjudged electric car charging, motorway traffic and school pick up times.

 

As I was stationary, bumper to bumper or watching the green bars of electricity creep painfully slowly fill, I just repeated that ‘Everyone was safe’…. A Mum being late never killed anyone.  But the story I played in my head, on a loop in between, was full of trauma and drama as I was late for the first day at their new school.

 

But as with all stories you tell yourself, they are just make believe and never true.  The boys were having far too good a time to notice I was late, had burgers and sausages and disappeared for another 10 minutes when I did arrive!

 

And all because I was being selfish and wanted a day with my friend, to chill and chop and chat, have my hair cut, be still.  Just for me.

 

I felt guilty being selfish, but right now, as the eggs for tea are cooking, the boys are curled up on the sofa and the Big Man and I breathe… no one died today, everyone is safe and I no longer feel selfish at all.   One day for me in return for 9 weeks full on taxi, cook, cleaner, washer-upper, unpacker, animal carer, child carer, husband pleaser, PA, EA, social organiser, confidante, coach, back tickler and general dogsbody…..

 

One day.  My day.  And everyone is still alive, including me!

 

 

 

 

 

A subchapter of the new chapter starts tomorrow.    There is tension, hilarity, nerves and excitement all packed in to one final evening.

 

The bags are all packed and by the front door, complete with innumerable sets of shoes and sports kit, wellies and swimming towels.  The blazers are hanging on the backs of their doors and their shoes are neatly placed by their clothes.

 

I am sat naming the last few name tapes and the Big Man is out weed spraying the lawn.

 

We are just a normal, ordinary family and no one would ever know what we have been through to get here today. And in some ways that makes me feel partly resentful… partly uncomfortable….  But sitting with both those feelings, I also feel pride, a sense of a achievement for being able to recognise that and still be able to focus on the future.

 

There has been the same plot running through my mind, and the story that I tell myself.  I long to retire that story. I hope tomorrow and the new routines will help achieve that over the next coming months.

 

My boys are not yet back at school, so my ‘September health reboot’ has a couple more days to go and therefore I am replete on red wine and pizza.

 

And the same question that has been going round and round in my head all day is still going round and round in my head.

 

Should I watch the second series of Doctor Foster alone as I do the ironing as I did series 1, congratulating myself through out with what I thought at the time was a ‘lucky catch out’ or  ‘near miss’….

 

Or should I suggest the Big Man and I watch series 1 together…. And then series 2?

 

It could be a bit much?  For me?  For him?

 

But it was bloody good drama.  And perhaps interesting, her reaction or response the complete reflection of mine…..

 

May be another bottle of wine ….

 

 

 

 

AS the hyperactive screams and shouts emanated from the boys’ basement just a moment ago, I took myself outside to the gardens for some peace and quiet.  To feel the fresh rain heavy air, admire and smell my sweet smelling old roses.

 

I had finally found a spare half an hour yesterday to plant my four new roses:  prosperity, abundance, smiles and ‘easy does it’.  They hadn’t been looking so good after being abandoned while I tended to my social life and guests and boys’ activities.  I had hoped with some love and attention, some good wholesome food, a long rehydrating drink and being put in to bed would revive them somewhat.

 

I smiled with relief to see that while 3 of them had perked up quite nicely, one of them still hung heavy, the flowers and buds drooping and unable to hold their heads high.  It looked totally reflective of how I feel after my ‘tsunami of the past’ passed through.

 

I smiled ruefully to myself as I flicked over the tag to see the rose that was still flagging was ‘easy does it’.  A little message from the universe, I believe, for the last 2 days of the school holidays!

 

 

The monkey, the leak, gratitude and joy, none of it really matters or even stands a chance when the tidal wave of grief and loss and the tsunami of memories and shame flood your every cell.

 

I may have climbed my mountain and marvelled at the view of how far I have come and where I once gazed upon the miracle ahead and which I now live and breathe; but water climbs mountains and settles high above when the volume is greater.

 

That happened yesterday.

 

It was a strange feeling. Because I was on my mountain, I had a life and commitments that perhaps once I would have let go of, had I still been under the sea.  And while I continued with life, I felt as though I was swimming through the emotions while going through the motions.  Rather than hiding under a duvet in bed, I hid behind a blanket of smiles and chat.

 

This morning, as I was brought a beautiful tray of breakfast in bed, I could feel the waves had settled and were waning, falling away to reveal the devastation.  This time, I learnt through the process that to become resilient to shame, that is to get back up again after it floors you, is to recognise it, determine the trigger that caused the eruption, share it and talk about it.  It took me a while but the moment I did, I felt myself recovering.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I like to finish the day thinking positively. So I will forget about the smashed cups that started the day and focus more on how much fun I had singing Kareoke to finish the day . 

A furry little giraffe snuck into bed with us this morning and took the body count to 4.  The little giraffe was a little ill-tempered and the question was asked of him, “which Mr Man would you be, do you think?”  The reaction of a few grunts granted him the name “Mr Grumpy.”

 

Naturally, the question went around the bed and when it was my turn, I melted when both boys shouted, “Little Miss Happy”!!!!

 

I melted because I haven’t felt happy internally recently, because of the monkey that arrived in Rock and the leak that started its damage last week.  I melted withgratitude that I have been able to keep my happiness on the outside, even if not on the inside.

 

I read today that research has proven the theory that gratitude creates joy, rather than joy creating gratitude.  The 11,000 pieces of data showed that people who described their lives as joyous or themselves as joyful actively practiced gratitude.  The theory disproved that if you were joyful, you should be grateful, but rather that by a daily tangible habit of written or spoken gratitude brought forth more joy in lives.

 

Perhaps this is where my happiness or joy stems from; there have only been a handful of days when I have not written down at least 5 things I have been immensely grateful for in that day – from a smile or hug from one of the boys, fresh air in my lungs on a run, the active presence of the Big Man, love from friends, my Dad, my sister, our collective health to happiness and ability to heal.

 

Perhaps I found this information today, because I needed to hear it. For as I came downstairs in the glow of my label “little Miss Sunshine”, I found out that my little ‘Joy’ doll had been lost and left behind when I had given Joy (metaphorically and physically) to cheer up a little boy.

 

And it was like the plug had been pulled on my sunshine.

 

How crazy is that?  A little plastic doll, given to me by a whole heartedly compassionate friend when I was trying to re-find my own inner and outer joy; who I kept in my handbag at all times, just in case I felt a little lost, a little sad.  I could feel for her, look at her nestled in my pocket and know that joy is there, it just has to be found by looking for it.

 

And now she is not there to be seen or felt. And I felt a sheer moment of panic.

 

Until I realised that was utterly ridiculous and started to cook eggs in a routine way that does actually bring me pleasure and joy; I love a noisy, happy kitchen with eggs cooked many ways for many people.

 

So, wherever Joy is, perhaps under a coffee table in a coffee shop, thrown away as rubbish or found by another who needs her… I know now that I don’t need her to remind myself of my own inner, and outer joy, but instead just look to gratitude for the moment my boys called me ‘Little Miss Sunshine.’

 

But all the same, I will probably go and see if I can find her tomorrow.

The leak and the monkey have left me drained, as they always do.  The result of constant battle in my head to seek positivity, good in between the negative weeds in mind and the consistent weight on my shoulders that I lug around.

 

But they are silent and transparent, so no one else can see or hear them.  Just me.  No one can see when they are present or when they have left.  Perhaps only in my demeanour, my intolerance and lack of patience, over sensitivity, dark eyes and furrowed brow.

 

After 4 special days, the leak has diminished and the monkey on my back has slid away, only to peer at me every now and then.

 

I read a quote by Socrates today and it reminded me how grateful I am for the patience shown to me by the Big Man and how he softens the walls I put up between us.  I am grateful for the friends who know and appreciate the walls I have built around myself to protect me from my own shame, but who love me enough, like my company enough to walk through them, climb over them or just smash them down to show me compassion and normality.

 

And particularly and most especially to those that cross continents to do so.

 

Montepuliciano strikes again.

Over wine and ‘too finger licking good’ ribs, the 3 of us debated a broad range of topics from social gender categorising, apartheid, roles of men and women in the current era. It was far from dry…. in discussion and the level of our wine in our glass.

With the silky wine flowing through my veins, the weight of the monkey on my back feels lighter. I hope I sleep again to find she is lighter still, perhaps gone tomorrow?

As I set challenges with paper aeroplanes and laps of the garden, I laughed and brought myself into the present moments. The silver strings attached to my past are tenuous, but always there. When I lack in sleep, the tension becomes weightier, a roadblock to my state of happiness and becomes a monkey on my back I carry around with me, whispering in my ear the words once written to inflict pain, and continue to do so.

Laughter and wine drowns out the whispers so I keep children, good friends and wine close until one day I can be brave enough to drop the monkey. For I know the monkey is just my protector and keeping me aware and enlightened. But she is also preventing me from truly letting go, releasing the breaks and speeding in to the future.

So why can’t I let her go?!!!!! Because I am just human…. as I have been reminded carefully, with love and gratefully acknowledged over tea this week.

There is a leak.  In my positivity, my newfound confidence in life.

 

But I know it is temporary.  All I need to stem the leak is sleep.

 

Something is clearly keeping me awake, something making my dreams too vivid, so vivid that I subconsciously don’t want to sleep or forces me awake.

 

But positively, on 3 hours sleep, I loved today.  In my pj’s with my bestie, drinking tea til almost noon, discussing everything, anything, all things in my world and hers.  A special time watching our godchildren and their siblings explore the gardens, the house, get lost in the basement and stuck up trees.  Eating cake.  Clearly.  Drinking wine.  Inevitably.

 

All I need to stem the leak is sleep and more days like today.