Ha.

I am grumpy.  Being grumpy was making me grumpier… getting annoyed at myself for being grumpy.

 

Until just now.

 

Being grumpy is a good sign!  I have had all the other feelings and emotions, draining me, with no energy left at the end of the day to be grumpy.

 

Does that mean my energy is coming back?

 

I am lighter… I have had half a tonne of hair taken off my head this morning and my chakra’s realigned and all negative energy wafted away.

 

Bring on the grump!  It is so much better than being on the floor, melting with sadness or smashing anything in sight with anger.

 

And just like that, the recognition that it is a good sign, it’s gone.  And here I am singing along to ‘red light’ on car share, holding hands and laughing at the beaded seats.

 

Peter Kay could get rid of any grump and bring on happy thoughts.

 

May Day.  Bank Holiday.

 

With the boys at school, it felt like it did when we were footloose, fancy and child free.  It was a day of mooching and snoozing.

 

Had we caught Willy’s flue or was it just too much wine with friends?

 

Or perhaps just a day of relief that everything is finally falling in to place… ?

 

May Day, the first day of my favourite month.

 

May.

 

I am reminded of the loving kindness meditation I have been repeating these last few days:

 

“May I be happy.

May I be safe.

May I be healthy.

May I be at peace.”

 

And then wishing the same for other loved ones who I wish the same for:

 

“May you be happy.

May you be safe.

May you be healthy.

May you be at peace.”

 

May. I love May.

 

A month of hope.  As nature shows us, the wet and wild early months of spring bring forth the new beginnings and blossoms and turn the landscape in to something beautiful.

 

Another of life’s beautiful metaphors.

 

They say grief is like waves. 
Eventually you learn to ride them.
When I was underwater after Mumbo died, when I was on my rocky sea bed after my world crumbled, if I tried to come up for breath, a mighty wave crashed down, never allowing me to breathe, or even try to get on my board to ride….
Eventually, I could float and grief came like the giant rollers of the deep sea…the spaces and moments between the slow rise and fall of excruciating and heavy hearts were calming, allowing me to recover and prepare for the next wall.
And now, on my hilltop, my rocky cliff face just under the summit, the waves happen far below but it is now the clouds that being the sorrow and heartache; sometimes the loss of my Mumbo squeezing my heart and wishing she were here to ask the questions only a mother can answer…; sometimes the loss of my marriage and childlike dreams of one man forever darken my days, mind and heart.
But they are clouds. 
And eventually, like the waves, they pass on.
This one is a particularly turbulent one, swirling in moments of missing my Mum as I fill the empty space left by my wedding rings with hers and mourn her and for me.
I have learnt to help the passing, how to breath and live through it. I run. I bake. I hold my boys tight. I let him hold me. I see friends even though my heart is not in it, and allow their lives, their smiles and laughs to distract from my life, my heavy cloud.
Eventually, like the waves, the clouds pass and the sunshine will warm up my smile.

When life overwhelmed Mumbo, she said she would always go to the side of the motorway embankment and zone out to the soothing hum of traffic noise or scream as no one would hear her.  I imagine this to be her own form of ‘mindfulness’, to let her thoughts wash over her and let it all go, so she could come back to the house with peace in her heart.

 

This week, I was listening to a speech given by Pema Chodron, a guru of meditation and mindfulness practices, and how she has been ‘practising’ mindfulness for years, and still practising and learning now.  I wish I had my phone with me, I would re-listen to it as I remember laughing out loud at her and the way she laughs at herself for being rubbish, despite being a teacher.

 

She compares mindfulness to the picking of a scab.  The scab being the discomfort we can feel inside and how mindfulness can help us feel the discomfort but give us the strength to resist picking at the scab, letting the discomfort pass and each time we allow it to pass, we enable the healing process to work its magic;  let the new skin grow, eventually leaving only a scar.

 

I had been feeling strong this last week; my anxiety less, my confidence growing, my discomfort softening as the scab healed.

 

And yet today I did the most ridiculous thing.  I thought I would ‘test’ myself; test my strength and see if it was solid, see if I was healed.  I itched the scab.  In fact, I picked it off.

 

And now I am sat here bleeding.

 

I am sat here bleeding in to my tissues and wishing I hadn’t been so stupid;  so stupid to have believe I was strong enough, that the scab would reveal new, beautiful skin below, showing I was healed.

 

I wish I hadn’t been so stupid to test my resolve and look at the 40 or so photos she sent me to introduce me to their life, their embraces, their messages of love and longing, their messages discussing me.  I wish I hadn’t looked at all the information she gave me of the justification of her side of the sorry tale.

 

I am bleeding from the heart, gut and head.

 

So stupid.  So stupid.

 

Like my Mumbo, when life gets overwhelming, I take myself out to find my own place to zone out the world and let my emotions out where no one can hear me.

 

And when the calm comes, I will count my blessings for I know that gratitude is the antidote to depression.

 

And when the bleeding stops, the scab reforms, when I have peace back in my heart I will drive home.  Until then, I will listen to Lisa Tarbuck or the sound of the sheep in the fields around me….

 

Post script:  I am now back at home being bandaged back up with tea and talks by the aga by the only person who can help me heal from the wounds he inflicted.  And I know I won’t be picking at the scab for a long time, if at all.

 

Last night I was interviewed by Oprah.

 

She worked her magic on me through the night, teasing out all the facts and details, feelings and emotions, like the different coloured flags in a magician’s sleeve until they lay in a heaped puddle of silky colour on the floor.

 

As the sun rose, I felt light headed from the lack of sleep, but generally lighter from the liberation and stronger from the Oprah love; her compliments and words of thanks, just as she does with all her guests, making them feel like they have taught her invaluable lessons and inspired her, rather than the other way around.

 

Perhaps she has become the new cheerleader in my mind, a stronger character than Snow White, the Queen of Inspiration and Strength, rather than the Princess of Hope and Kindness…. or maybe they are just joining forces during this time.

 

It was no coincidence then, when she was at the top of my suggested playlist this morning.  Even less of a coincidence that she was interviewing one of my favourite teachers, Dr Wayne Dyer…. And they happened to be talking about coincidences!

 

That there is no such thing.

 

In fact, the word coincidence is derived from the mathematical term, where two angles ‘coincide’ to make a perfect fit.  It doesn’t describe a fortunate mistake or lucky happening.  It was meant to be.

 

I was meant to listen to their discussion.  So much of it I needed to hear today, giving me strength and guidance to know I am in the right place and I am on the right path, right now.

 

In addition to the definition of coincidence, I loved their discussion on perfection.  How life is always perfect and exactly as it should be, even in terrible times of turmoil, despair.  Both Wayne and Oprah talked of their own demons and tragedies but that all of it transformed them in to the people they are today, each experience being a teacher of a lesson and all they had to do was listen, be open to learning and then take the wisdom and share it with the world, turn something bad or sad in to something good and worthwhile.

 

What has happened in my life has been perfect.   It feels odd or strange to say that but as difficult and heartbreaking it has all been, has lead to where we are right now.  Heading to the life we have always dreamt of.  I am not a victim of my circumstances but a victor.  I am stronger and I am more confident at being me.

 

And if I am to believe and trust in that, then forgiveness comes back on to the table.

 

‘Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.’  A beautiful way to think of it.

 

Can I see myself as the Violet?

 

If everything that has happened is ‘perfect’ in the order of my life, is there anything to forgive?  If the heel crushes to release the fragrance, shouldn’t the heel be loved?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have a new list book for this new term and I am being very productive with my ‘54321 done!’ attitude.

 

And yet today, after reading the most poignant article – ‘The day my child lost her joy’, I am keeping with the lists, both written and mentally stored, but reprioritising the order.

 

The author’s striking words, ‘In the process of making my own life miserable, I’d funneled my unhappiness straight into my daughter’s once joyful heart and spirit. Her pain was a direct reflection of the expression I wore on my face’ reminded me of me, many versions of me:

 

The ‘corporate me’ when I was working all hours with 2 little people in full time nursery, 2 little people who wouldn’t go to bed and one who would never sleep; a Mummy always on her blackberry, desperate to ensure her ‘working Mum’ or ‘part time’ status never gave them an excuse to think less of her; a wife and housewife juggling social occasions, affection, a tidy house and never quite meeting expectations, especially  of her own;  a woman desperate for 5 minutes peace and quiet to think, be still or even just get her legs waxed.   All my boys wanted was time with a relaxed, present physically and mentally Mummy and all I got were snot rings around my black trousers where they clung on crying.

 

The ‘entrepreneur me’ when I was juggling lots of different ideas on how to generate an income and contribute financially to our family –  ecommerce strategy consultant, health and wellness business or magazine sales and promotion; juggling being a single Mum during the week; and 2 boys in different schools, both craving attention, to tell their day stories, cuddles and craving security, tantrums the only way to get me to listen or hear when I was living totally in my head.

 

The ‘broken me’ when I was on my rocky sea bed when I was juggling the battle between my head and my heart, struggling to ‘live’ and breath, unable to get out of bed, eat, function. My 2 boys mirroring my pain, Tom hiding in the corner of his bedroom, curled up and hiding his sobs, Willy openly despairing, his wide eyes not able to comprehend.

 

I recognize I have come so far.  I am no longer any of those ‘me’s’.  I congratulate myself as I silently nod in agreement of her words on how to ensure goals aren’t always tangible but that ‘they consisted of immeasurable items like listening, laughing, dreaming, playing, connecting, and loving. With a more meaningful daily goal, I was able to see the blessings in my imperfect self and in my imperfect life.’

 

And my boys are far happier, relaxed now.  Their relationship to each other greatly improved, rather than playing off each other to get my attention.  They play together, the odd fight soon forgotten, they care for each other; they are calmer, loving, laughing, talk openly and delightedly about their lives and plans for the future.

 

She concludes, ‘And we have the power to control what they absorb, but first, we must tend to ourselves.’

 

Brian Tracy wrote a brilliant book called ‘Eat the Frog’ in order to promote efficiency by doing the biggest item or the item you are most reluctant or nervous about, first; by putting it at the top of your list and getting it done leaves you the rest of the day clear to tick off the ‘easier’ or simpler tasks.  It makes sense to front load your day, so you don’t end up with the big or most important jobs at the end of the day when you are tired or have less time, therefore more likely to deprioritize to tomorrow…

 

So top of my list now is me. I am the frog.  I do the things first that make me the best person I can be for that day. That first hour at least is mine.  Before I do anything else.  It may sound selfish, but actually, from experience, it is selfless.  To be the best version of me right from the get go of the day, means I can serve my boys, my family, my business, our future.  By the time they come home, I am theirs.  My mind isn’t filled with anger or frustration or resentment, because I put myself first.

 

I am the frog.  I taste delicious!!

 

 

Full article and required reading for all parents, not just mothers.

http://foreverymom.com/family-parenting/when-my-child-lost-her-joy-rachel-macy-stafford/

 

 

 

 

 

A gorgeous friend yesterday gave me 2 things to think about.  One was a in a youtube clip where Pema Chodron declares that her 2^nd husband was one of her greatest teachers because he left her.  She was drinking tea and he left to be with another woman.  She explains that in the falling apart and the quiet moments of shock and silence afterwards is when she learnt so much.

 

In her own words, she explained how she was desperate to keep the marriage together, even though it hadn’t been going so well, but because it was what she knew, made her feel safe and secure.  She felt she needed the marriage picture, the man, the role of a wife to feel happy.

 

What she learnt in the 3 years of subsequent grieving and groundlessness, was that she was reliant on being dependent, feeling attached.  She realised she needed that somebody else to confirm her very being, to confirm that she was ok!  The lesson was that her own view of herself was not enough, she had to have and believe someone else’s view of her to be ‘ok’, to be happy.

 

There is a small part of me deep down that can relate.  I am grieving for the loss of the eternal ‘attachment’ to the perfect man, my prince charming, my first real love.  Part of my identity was the lucky lady with the longest and strongest relationship and marriage.  I still find myself crying for that, a silent tear every now and then when my gut flips over;  the same feeling of loss I had when in those moments I remembered Mumbo was gone.  Only I know they are less for her now, more for the loss of years of love, security and a feeling of shame for being so naïve and childlike.

 

So perhaps all this was and is my next lesson on my journey of self-esteem recovery, that I don’t need anyone to define me.  I don’t need to justify myself against their view of me, or how I should be in their eyes.

 

It’s ok to be just me, the way I want me to be.

It’s ok to be me, ‘non-attached’ but connected deeply to who I want to connect with, in a more mutually respectful way.

 

And the second was a quote from an Glennon Doyle Molton and links in with the non-attachment piece.    She makes a list of ‘what she knows’ and the 3^rd point was:

 

‘’Crisis means to sift.  Let it all fall away and you’ll be left with what matters.”

 

In this crisis I have done a lot of sifting.  Both material and immaterial, tangible and intangible.

 

And some things I was able to let go very easily, some were more of a wrench and a mental battle, some are still hanging on and I find a tough task to sever the cord.

 

But each cord is made up of multiple strands and for the remaining cords still clinging on, I can feel each strand pinging away and I am beginning to feel lighter all the time.  Having been so closed and tight and holding on, I can feel myself opening up and revealing my inner soul.  I have never been a ‘closed book’, always wearing my heart on my sleeve, but this feels like a deeper unveiling of the real me.

 

And as life’s metaphors would have it, as I was walking around our soon to be new home, the dream house, the tulips were in their most stunning full bloom, a blood red sea following the garden path.  And yet I found just this solitary one, who called out to me and showed me its hidden inner beauty.

 

The lesson here, the only attachment we need is to our own inner self and that is when we live the most beautiful and free life.

There is nothing like the smell of fresh baking.  It has a beautiful way of pervading through every wall and door in the house and through your nose and even skin!

 

I began baking at 7.30am this morning just after waving off the boys.  Baking calms me.  And after ‘Hurricane Willy’ this morning, who has decided he only likes one pair of pants and one pair of socks, I needed this peaceful activity.

 

As the sponge sandwiches were baking, rising and doing their thing, I did mine.  I lay and breathed in the aroma, feeling my stomach rise…. And then fall away.

 

In this crazy, high speed, techy, plugged in world, how often do people just take the opportunity to just lie and listen and smell, breathe and feel?  As a child, my sister and I would lie under or on the branches of the trees in the woods and watch the sunlight through the leaves, listening to the quiet.  Later, my best friend and I would run up the school fields, sprint and then lie on the grass listening to our hearts pounding before walking calmly back to take an exam.

 

Meditation and Mindfulness.  Just the words used to frighten me away, thinking they were activities for the hippy and the weirdly and overly spiritual.  But all it is, is being present, doing nothing else but being…. For a few minutes or longer.

 

My homework from therapy has been to continue my meditation practice (or mindfulness or zoning out… or whatever!) and focus on some of the calming, compassionate techniques or guided sessions on anxiety.

 

“Gratitude is the antidote for depression.’  I can’t remember who said it, but I scribbled it down the other day after hearing it and so my ‘zoning out’ sessions are gratitude moments.

 

I could have lain there all day, listening to the birds, the next door neighbour’s hum of the chain saw, enjoying the smell of vanilla until my timer went off after 23 minutes and it felt like moments.

 

Gratitude is the antidote for depression, but so is living in the moment, unplugging and zoning out, letting the mind and brain rest.  I owe a lot to this practice of stillness of the mind, it helped me through the unsettling times of seeing my Mumbo in the mental hospital and during the week it took for her to pass.  It has helped me see a clear path forward for every bump in my rocky road in the last few years and even more so now.  My daily 10 minutes in the morning, along with my 10 written gratitudes in the evening are like brushing my teeth – non negotiable.

 

**

 

Interesting, as I go to my physio appointment, the latest Lewis Howes podcast is all about a story of meditation.  I love how she explains the impact on the brain.

 

She has a jar of water filled with glitter, the mind is the jar and the glitter is your brain.  She shakes it up so that the jar is sparkly and cloudy and this represents how your brain looks when you are stressed or angry.

 

By letting it sit for 10 minutes, everything settles and your mind becomes clear when you breath, leaving your brain to be able to see clearly again.

 

 

“There will never be an ‘us’ if I play small.”

A quote by Sharon Preiss that was on today’s passage in the ‘Book of Awakening’ by Mark Nepo.  I don’t pick it up every day, but some days, intuition or whatever, it is brought into my consciousness and I pick it up from the stack of books.

I loved today’s passage, and so pleased I read it for the 2 minutes it took.

“Hard as it is, we cannot shrink from our relationships or we simply become an audience or gofer for the dominant partner or friend.”

It was only when I started to read ‘I love me’ in July last year, and started my journey to rebuild my self esteem and my back bone to stand up to myself, I started to become less of an audience to my life and the gofer for everyone who was able to see my vulnerable state to want to please.  That few months of self exploration, in hindsight, laid an invaluable hard surface for the ensuing events, rather than a wobbly, uncertain one.  I had started to believe in myself again, my value and perhaps that is why I have been able to refind it again, after it had been ‘lost’.

Martin Buber, a philosopher believed “before there can be a true relationship, there must be two separate beings who can relate.”

I have become my own person again.  I am no longer submissive.

Whereas I used to see us all just as a family, I now see us all as individuals, all connected and all related; our roots connected and intertwined but growing in our own personal way, giving each other the space we need to ‘play big’, rather than suffocating each other to ‘play small’.

It feels good.  It finally feels good to recognise that.  And to recognise that we are outgrowing where we are, our branches spreading higher and farther, rather than being restricted by limits set by ourselves and implied by others.

It feels good to feel the house emptying, ties to the old being released.

It feels good.  It feels good to know our roots are still entwined despite it all.

Today the metaphors of the world around me have been shouting out for me to notice them.  And I am reminded of the passage in Eat Pray Love when Liz reads the Instructions for Freedom,  ‘Life’s metaphors are god’s instructions.’

 

And as the instructions are all to ‘let go’, today as been all about letting go of material things.  This weekend we have been clearing out the house, all the old, unused, tired, unnecessary items in the house.  We have taken car loads to the tip, the charity shop and we have had monstrous fires;  fires burning 10 feet high with black smoke from some of the toxic fabrics and fillings.  Our unwanted belongings, left for someone else to enjoy, crushed by the metal roller or burnt to cinder and ash.

 

‘The day is ending and it is time for something that was beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful.  Now let go.’

As we were carrying sofas to the bonfire heap, I thought exactly that to myself and wrote it in my journal, ‘In order to create or start something new, you have to let go and clear out the old so that you make room for the new.’  This house has been a beautiful home and start to our family and there are beautiful memories we will take with us but the few toxic ones are being metaphorically burnt to ash and sprinkled to the fields.  The dark memories have no place in the beauty of our new home.

 

‘With all your heart forgive him. Forgive yourself and let him go.’

I believe this is the only way I am going to get my heart out of its cage of steel.  It sounds so simple.  I practice letting go all the time, letting my thoughts go in meditation, letting go of feelings through breathing or exercise and now my possessions.  Why is this so hard?  I have to let go of my first husband, my first love… easier perhaps if my future new husband, new love was a different person.  I need to make peace with myself, the past and let go of the old … allow space for the new.

 

‘Let your intention be freedom from useless suffering.  Then let go.’

By being unable to forgive and love freely, I am causing myself unnecessary suffering.  It all goes against my nature, but I am also stubborn.  And I continue my internal fight – between heart and head, stubborn grit and freedom of spirit.  Yet, I recall the advice of our therapist – ‘until you find yourself able to forgive, remain willing to be able to do so.’  And perhaps that is all I can do… for now.

 

‘When has the past has passed from you at last, let go.  Then climb down and begin the rest of your life with great joy.’

I have been through painful experiences before, loss and grief.  I know that time eases the passage.  And I know that the past is important to remember but to not let stop you from the best future possible; to listen to its messages in whatever form it arrives in.  Just like the message I found from Mumbo today….  Totally apt as we embark on the biggest building project of our life, mentally, spiritually, physically both personally and in bricks and mortar.

“Getting the builders in… more fun getting them out though!  Mumbo & DJ xxx’

I can’t wait to climb down.