Today made me think about unconditional love.   What is it?   Literally, to love without condition or limits.

 

For me, I always felt it was to put someone else’s life, happiness, well being before my own.  To throw myself in front of a bus, to save the loves of my life without a second thought for the loss of my own.

 

I learnt that definition of unconditional love from the love I felt from my Mumbo, the love of a mother for a child.  I cannot believe it is almost a year that I have lived without it.  And I have survived it; my own ‘annus horribilis’.  That’s not to say I haven’t had love.. I survived with love; feeling love from so many others and giving love.  Giving unconditional love.

 

I realised today that giving unconditional love comes in many forms.

 

The small things – from spending nearly 3 hours hitting redial every 3 seconds to get through to a gymnastics class for Willy, and finding it fully booked;  to driving 45 minutes both ways in rush hour for a 2 minute conversation with a paediatric surgeon, to say no operation required until the infection is unbearable.

 

To the big things – to allowing my heart to overrule my head.  My head ‘detoxed’ of the toxic voices, thoughts and words, now finally quiet enough for it to hear my heart asking, pleading to be healed.  Unconditional love for another allowing my heart to love fearlessly and courageously, so that it can mend.  The hate I felt during the detox left me devoid of joy and lead me off course in the pursuit of happiness.

 

Unconditional love has let my heart overrule my head and open my mind to see a man with a good heart, but an imperfect human, flawed as we all are, with the ability to make mistakes.

 

Unconditional love for myself and the work I did to ‘love me’ with Dr Hamilton over the summer laid the ground work for me to be strong enough, respectful of myself enough, open minded enough to remove my blinkers and most importantly full of compassion to see the truth.

 

 

So now that the past and historical facts are all out there, it is time to move forward.  Learn how to move forward.  And there are many experts out there, my favourite psychologists and experts in the field of infidelity are Esther Perel, Steven Stosny and today I came across Janis A. Spring.  They all talk a lot of sense.  And they make sense of many of the uncharacteristic behaviours, thoughts and feelings I have had.

 

Janis and Esther are on the same wavelength when they talk about a second marriage after betrayal, but to the same person. That it is possible.  Esther says that it is possible, and she asks couples the question, “your first marriage is over, do you want to get married again?”

 

Janis shares more about how and where she has seen couples turn a catastrophe into something to learn from and grow together and build a second marriage to the same person, but with new skills, a fresh outlook, a rekindled desire.

 

But she is also bluntly honest; that it takes time.  And that many couples give up all too soon. But those who make it are patient and hold each other together.  They continue to walk the walk of open honesty, hearing and listening and hold each other, especially during the times of dark despair, even when they think there has been far too much damage to ever heal; especially during those times.  The couples who persist with the hard work on themselves and with each other can end up with a life and partnership stronger than before, stronger than many who never have the trauma of a betrayal or infidelity.

 

I found comfort in her words on emotions.  For my emotions have ruled me, my behaviours, my actions and attitude for the last week or few.  I have let my emotions flow through me, without suppression, but they have left me somewhat exhausted, like any psychological trauma would do.  She elaborates that you mustn’t confuse emotions with reality.  Your feelings of hopeless and despair are not forecasts of the future.

 

And that gives me hope.  And as I understand, hope is the conduit for miracles.  For on paper, in my head, this situation needs a miracle!  But my heart says the miracle is just hard work and an abundance of patience, tenderness and of love in the hard times.  Not only for each other but also for yourself.

 

And today, I was tender and patient with myself, rather than be frustrated with my lack of energy.  And I showed love and respect to a man who is grieving and suffering just as much pain as I am.

 

 

For over a decade and a half, my job was to look in to the past.  My job was to understand the processes, procedures, decision making criteria, technology support and routines of people and their daily lives at work.  I needed to know every detail, fact, button press, meeting and exception.  Every. Little. Intricacy.

 

I needed to know all these things, because if I knew everything, then I could plan for it, mitigate the risk, limit any future surprises; my job was to improve the daily grind to a daily flow, with the aim to make work lives better.

 

So quotes and phrases like ‘don’t look back you aren’t going that way’ or ‘the past should be left in the past, otherwise it can destroy your future’ have been really grating on me.  And being told not to keep looking at the details, data and history or being advised to stop deciphering each word and intonation, date and image enraged me!  But I only just realised why.

 

Looking back is ingrained in me.  Looking back has always helped me prepare for the future.

Unpicking every single detail is ingrained in me.  Details are how you see patterns, flaws and have confidence you have all bases covered when you rip it all out, knock it all down, rebuild the foundations and then put back in the good and leave out the unnecessary, the obsolete.

 

And as I used to lie awake in my consultancy days, or half unconscious, even subconsciously scrolling through all the details in my mind, I have been doing that too for the last 3 months;  crescendo-ing in to incredible, unsquashable noise in my head last week.

 

And just as it used to in those days, it would all suddenly fall in to place.  All resistance to options and ideas fall away and a path become clear.

 

As I had my final Detox Bath on Friday, I was listening to Liz Gilbert in Big Magic and she was referring to the common quote seen so much these days, ‘What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?’

 

Personally, I am not a fan.  The focus too much on failing.  The intonation that you are scared to do anything.

 

But I am a fan of Liz.  She turned it round for me.  ‘What would you do if you knew you would fail?’  The implication that you would do something regardless of the outcome because you loved it so much.

 

And in that moment, that realisation, I knew the way forward.  The noise stopped.  Well, not really, but I was able to see it as just unhelpful, damaging thoughts again and so acknowledge them and let them scroll past.

 

And that’s not to say there won’t be hiccups, mishaps, mistakes and overseen errors along the way…  but I will handle it.  Just like I always have done.

 

Was itYves Saint Laurent who said that ‘it isn’t the dress that’s important but the woman in it’?
I love fashion and clothes, but I have always been a rapid shopper.. not a browser, procrastinators and I always shop alone. I am a classic dresser, not really a follower of fashion, appreciating new trends and ideas but not able to visualise or see them on myself.
And as I sit on my train back north, I ponder my shopping habits and their relation to and Influence on life.
With fashion, I believe you have to try something on to know whether it fits. It’s the same for me with decision making. Try the decision on. Put your head in, follow through with limbs and see where they lead. How does it feel when it’s on? Does it itch or irritate, pull or strain? Does it suit you? What truth does the mirror say?

Does it diminish you? Make you look and feel pale and small? Do you want to hide in shame?

Or does it reflect your personality, make you come to life? Do you want to whirl in joy?

If it is a new style, out of your comfort zone, you really do have to take it off the hanger and wear it. Only then do you know it isn’t fear making you choose to revert to comfort. New can be good. Different can shake things up, a different shade make your eyes sparkle, a different length make you walk 10 feet tall, a step away from the old, motheaten and stale, to fresh, light and free. Radical change can be exhilarating and exciting; it can also be eye catching and attention seeking, confidence boosting. Potentially and dangerously superficial?
And if you then decide to stick with what you know, it is not because it is the easy choice, but because it feels right. It fits. It fits you, hugs your curves, shows off your highlights and transforms your flaws.

And there’s no rule to say you can’t embellish or improve it, add a hint of new, a scatter of difference, patch up the tears or rips and make a flaw into a ‘beautiful enhancement’. Revamping your classic style can be refreshing, satisfyingly grounding, sustainable and quietly natural and yet still as impressive without the flamboyance.
Whatever you choose. It’s you wearing it. It’s you living in it. It’s you stepping out into the world to face the judgement and opinions, critique or praise of others. So choose to wear it confident, proud, at ease and without looking back, no regrets.
But if you’re not 100% sure, but gut instinct says to go for it, you can always keep the label. You can always change your mind.
And as YSL said, just be the woman in the dress. Focus on her. Be comfortable in her skin. For that is the real reflection of how successful the outfit is.

So it is day 11. My 10 day of detoxing over.  The detox from addictive, innessentials for body and mind, the focus on nourishing, healing wholistically.

 

Time for some reflection – How do I feel?

 

Strong and Lean.  I admit, there wasn’t much excess fat on my body.  A little is good.  But I haven’t felt this lean in a long time, the evening bloat no longer present.  But I did lose 3lbs and a centimetre from each measurement (waist, hip, thighs).

 

Satisfied.  I really never felt hungry and as long as I kept eating, I didn’t crave any of my vices.  I didn’t need coffee to wake me up.  I didn’t need chocolate or anything sweet after a meal.  There was only one evening I could have sunk a bottle of wine, but I distracted myself with a steamy bath instead.

 

Vibrant.  Strangely during it, I didn’t feel very energetic, but I still managed to exercise to the full.  It was the detox of my mind that took most of my energy and I think that is because of my current life situation, nothing to do with food intake.  Without social media to distract me, I withdrew in to my head, heart and soul and dug deep to root out any hidden pockets of fear or despair and worked to clear them out.

 

What surprised me the most?  I didn’t miss facebook as much as I thought I would.  And in fact, I won’t be reloading the app on my phone.  And the bath!  I hate baths.  Or thought I did.  But my evening bath was a source of pleasure as much as I distrusted the instruction.  The routine of body brushing and scrubbing in the shower, covering my body in mud and then sinking in to a steaming hot bath in candle light was therapeutic.  The quiet time to listen to my thoughts or a gentle voice was magical.  I felt settled.  And I contribute my lack of evening bloat not only to the lack of inflammatory dairy and gluten to the introduction of daily relaxation;  Dr Hyman talks a lot of how stress can alter your metabolism and mean you ‘keep fat’ and how relaxation combats that;  proper relaxation, time alone without distraction or noise.

 

What parts of it will I keep as daily routine and what will I add in?  The bath.  The bath is probably the only thing I didn’t really do before.  I realise through following the clear food plans that I eat very healthily anyway;  perhaps need to avoid some of the starchy vegetables I didn’t realise were starchy.  And I will always have sugar snap peas and carrots in the fridge – they are my new favourite snacks.

 

Would I do it again? And would I recommend it?

Absolutely.  After each holiday or period of time of unhealthy living or eating, I would carve out 10 days to do it.  Even after just 5 days I felt amazing, all toxins flushed out of my head and system.  And if you want to lose weight, rather than being about food deprivation and calorie counting, it is about a focus on health and lifestyle for longevity.

 

How did I celebrate… ?

With a very strong vodka and tonic and 7 mini toblerones!  And a trip to London to celebrate my longest standing friends turning 40.  There will be laughter, hilarity, boob discussions and apple pie beds, secret eating and drinking from a bottle and ten of us in one bed until the early hours.  Some of us on a high, some of us on a low but regardless, we are together holding each other up as we have done, always have done for 30 years.

 

No one is perfect…. And after every good detox, there has to be a retox..  It’s only fair to the natural balance of life.

In difficult times I am always reminded of Eleanor Roosevelt’s words on strong women:

 

“A woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong it is until it is in hot water.”

 

There are many ways to become strong and many hot water situations. The more hot water you get dunked unceremoniously into, the more it seems you can cope, building on the strength you built prior; like an elastic band, once stretched beyond it’s limits, it never goes back quite to how it was.

 

And with each hot water tea bag dousing I have had over the last few years, I have noticed there are a few phases:

 

• The initial shock phase…before the hot water breaks through and into the tea leaves, holding your breath in surprise.
• The brewing phase … as you sit and weep, become vulnerable, your resolve weaken as you let your insides out and infuse your surroundings.
• The stirring phase… as you consider the options, subconsciously and consciously playing out the scenarios with mixed emotions.
• The cooling phase .. as everything settles, reality is accepted, and then you can move on, take the next sips of life.
• The releasing phase… as you move on, the feelings reduce, emotions drain away, until just a stronger tea bag is left.

 

I am in the stewing phase… or maybe in the stirring phase…  whatever – perhaps both. Swinging from one to the other.

 

I am concerned that I don’t want to stew too long; I could get bitter, cold and just a bit too dark for anyone to want.

 

Before that happens, it will be time to change the water. Throw the old dark, tepid, murky water out with the dishwater. Dive in to a new cup, change my surroundings, get out of the drama and wait and see what life will bring me… maybe some peace and quiet. Maybe more hot water?  Fear the only thing holding me back, fear of the unknown outcome.  Even though I know it is just tea!  It’s just life and I know I can handle whatever it has to throw at me… no matter how hot the water.

 

I know the key to being a strong tea bag is to take the lesson from each dunking into hot water. It is not always to just overcome it or survive it, and definitely not to let it drain you of your character, perfume… but to absorb the experience and build on it, take on a fuller flavour from the lesson.

 

But whatever happens in my current tea cup, I know and am honoured to be surrounded so many strong ‘tea bag’ women who tend to survive hot water, survive the stewing, the stirring, the waiting and go on to release and go forth again, wiser, tougher.

 

Strong tea bags tend to hang out together. They don’t need to whinge or whine or even gossip like weak tea bags. They know there is more to life. And, rather than preach, judge or give advice they show compassion, silent support but most of all they listen.  You can tell a strong tea bag from a weak one. It’s in their eyes; their pain, their quiet resolve, their softness in strength and dignity.

 

Above all, strong tea is meant to be enjoyed. And the strongest of which say they are much more pleasant with a ‘dash of sugar’, or a ‘splash of milk’ to soften the bitter taste, enrich the tones, smooth away any bitter notes.

 

And this tea bag, after 4 hours of yet another trip to A&E with Tom, is celebrating a clear bill of health for once and the end of a detox that has left me stronger, leaner, fitter, clearer and just part of the current tea bag event.

 

 

 

 

What is it they say to all super heroes as they realise their super powers?

 

“With great power, comes great responsibility.”

 

I sit here with all the power.  I hold all the cards.  I just don’t know how to play them.

 

Whatever I do, which ever choice, decision or path I take will have a bearing on 4 lives, 2 of the most important lives possible.  My decisions determine our fates.

 

It is a huge burden.  And the burden is mine.  The legacy mine.  Following choices inherited, not wanted.

 

I feel homeless.  No London home, no Yorkshire home.  My beautiful homes that I created as mine, now haunted, violated, tainted.  And I need to be free.  To live alone, live frugally, to know that I can.  So that if I decide I want to follow my heart, my head and my gut will be able to follow.  And the only way to do that is to prove my head right.  That I can build a life alone, look after my boys by myself.

 

I feel loveless.  So much love wasted.  So much love lost. Will I ever be able to trust that I am loved again?

 

Homeless and loveless… I have the power to resolve both.  In my hands.  With my heart.  Using my head.  Following the signs.

 

My reiki master saw 3 birds in my session today and a picnic blanket.  And perhaps they are giving me some guidance.  Or my inner self is the communicators of the spirit world.

 

The picnic blanket signifies a simple life; a joyful and tranquil domestic life.

 

The hummingbird signifies good luck is on its way; she signifies cheerfulness, joy in the world and grace and because of its quick motion, gets things done efficiently.  She signifies freedom.

 

The peacock signifies a rejuvenation, especially when feeling blue; it signifies walking tall and proud.  The alchemy peacock is a colourful transformation and a reminder that we can rise out of the darkest moments.

 

And the parrot!  The parrot is symbolic of truth telling and speaking from the heart.  He is a wise teacher of the power of words and can guide you in the power of communication and a reminder of the words you speak and the secret thoughts you carry.

 

To me they are all signposts.  My Inner parrot is already loudly telling me what I need to do, speaking the words of truth loudly, the facts that mean there is no going back, only forwards.   My hummingbird is researching and making plans to move things quickly so that I can get to my ‘picnic’ of a life, simple, rustic and free!  And at the end of that I can see my peacock..  I feel rejuvenated already just thinking about it.

 

I have the power.  And it is a responsibility.  And I will use this power to buy us all some time and freedom so we can hear the truth, away from noisy ghosts.

Strange how life repeats itself.  Repeats itself but with slight tweaks in difference.  I am not sure what is worse, seeing your child physically tormented, or emotionally.  Both just heartbreaking to watch; see a child suffer, see their tears, see their bravery diminish and their confidence shatter.

 

It started at the end of last term and continued as we came back this term.  Tears before lights out, whispering the nasty words that only children can say to wield pain; the exclusion at play time, the rebuttals, the rebukes the laughter and torment finally too much so that he removed himself and has been hiding at play time in the bike sheds on his own, my little mouse shivering and alone.

 

This time last year, when Tom told me that boys were throwing him against the railings and kicking him, my blood boiled and my rage roared.  My anger matching the aggression, wanting to but resisting the urge to play the angry Mamma Bear, intervene and break them back.

 

My reaction this time was different.  With my heart already broken, it couldn’t break any more.  But I could feel it sob inside, matching the sorrow of my little boy.  Knowing the playground is cruel, making new friends within already firmly established groups a tough challenge.  Having learnt from experience, I didn’t wait.  And while I have been impressed with the pastoral response at school, it is Tom who I have been most proud of.

 

Rob Bell has a wonderful podcast on ‘Making room for the immensities.’  As I listened to it, while I relaxed in my 10 Day Detox mandatory evening bath, I realised Tom had done exactly what he was talking about;  transcendence.

 

He talks about suffering.  An ‘Immensity of life’ of any kind isn’t something you can wind back the clock and wish never happened, or wind forward so that you have gotten over it; suffering from an immensity is something you have to go through.  The ‘immensity’ just becomes part of you.  You will never be the same person you were.  You have to journey through it all – feel the pain, heal your wounds and then transcend to being a ‘bigger’ person from the growth.  And as Rob says, you know you have transcended your immensity, because if you encounter someone else going through something similar, you don’t block it out, you don’t ignore it or run away from the pain it brings up in you, you turn and face the person and say ‘me too’.  Me too.  And show them compassion and love and guidance.

 

On hearing his little brother was suffering, going through an emotional time at school, not dissimilar to his own, I saw that he had transcended.  He was a ‘bigger’ boy.  He climbed into bed with Willy, held him close and I left them to it, letting Tom share his pearls of wisdom from first hand experience of how to deal with nasty boys in the playground.  He shared his ‘me too’ moments and his ‘me now’ story.

 

It was an emotional day.

 

It was an emotional day.  Seeing Willy hiding behind the school assembly props and being lead out sobbing, fearful of what the boys would tease him for…  And yet, picking him up at the end of the day to find him happily playing with new friends.

 

It was an emotional day.  The boys tired and emotional, shouting at me.   Blaming me for ‘kicking Daddy out’.

 

It was an emotional day.  Seeing and hearing the emotion in the Big Man’s voice as he explained clearly and calmly to the boys why he had moved out and was still not moving back in after 3 months.  Hearing his voice crack and his eyes full of pain, as he explained he had broken the vows we had taken in marriage, how he had hurt me very much, how much he regretted his actions and that to help me forgive him, he had to give time and space for that to happen, however long that might be.

 

It was an emotional day.  Seeing Tom cry and put his fingers in his ears as he curled in my lap not wanting to hear the explanations to the questions Willy was asking.

 

It was an emotional day.  Knowing as a family, and noticing it isn’t just me who is suffering, but all of us.  All with our own level of pain, sorrow, hurt and anger.  And on hearing Rob speak about transcendence, realising we need to go through this suffering together, holding each other together so that we can transcend our very own immensity.  An immensity that won’t define us, but will make us bigger, better people and so that one day, as individuals, or as a unit, we can help others by saying ‘Us too’.

 

My 3 current books continue to be my bibles.  Get happy.  Big magic.  10 day detox.  I dip in and out throughout the day, for reference, for background noise, to ground myself.

 

In the 10 day detox, it says that during the course of the 10 days ‘many 10 day detoxers experience profound shifts and gain greater sense of clarity about their lives, relationships, work and more.’  It then explains the reasons why, but fundamentally can be summarised simply ‘issues that you have tended to manage with food may now be exposed.’

 

I would say that perhaps food necessarily wasn’t my worst ‘toxin’ over the last 3 months, but I wouldn’t contradict myself by saying I used wine or vodka to numb the pain, blur the grief, soften the sadness.  I used cake and sugary foods to encourage myself to eat while in a constant state of nausea.  And I used social media for escapism; the readily available, constantly updating, live ‘OK’ magazine insight into other happy times, other lives, connect, feel connected while I hid myself away.

 

Without my vices, my mind is clear just as the book says.  ‘When we take away the diversion of food {or toxins in my case}, we open up an opportunity for deeper healing by dealing with the root feelings.

 

The thing is I loved my life, my family, my Big Man. Change was happening, everything improving, evolving. All marriages go through ups and downs… falling in and out of love and sometimes even out of like.  Pressures of 2 working parents, 2 careers, children; underlying resentment of the other if one puts family first and the other a career; resentment on both sides – to feel forced or pressured to ‘give up’ the glory, the recognition for a lifetime of thankless, unglamorous school runs, shopping, cooking and cleaning, the other because they did and now they bear the financial burden; the lack of sleep, due to children or drinking to avoid the mundane, ignore the real problems. Dwindling romance where intimacy becomes functional – how can you be intimate with someone who doesn’t show appreciation, demoralises you… or maybe just after so many years together, bores you?  That’s not all my story, some is, and some I hear from friends or strangers on an adjacent coffee shop table.

 

We were on an up. After a pretty tough and significant down… And now I know, the down lasted the whole time we had a 3^rd person in the marriage; sapping money, time, love, compassion, honesty, truth, but as she began to leave the scene, harmony and balance began to be restored and I felt we were equal again… like a new couple, happy with life and in love, respectful, more considerate, planning with excitement.

 

I loved my life. I always loved my family.  I never stopped loving my Big Man.

 

That’s my clarity.

 

Get Happy taught me today to look at what I was holding on to.  “What are you needlessly holding on to that’s robbing you of happiness?’

 

I can only ever tell my story, share my feelings but I am guessing she was hurt too. She loved her life. A good looking, attentive guy, generous with time and money. Of course, in messages to me she denies liking any of the material things (despite also admitting to begging for them), but to me there is no coincidence that the minute it all stopped, it didn’t take long for her to start crucifying my life.

 

And I suppose she mirrored, maybe consciously or unconsciously, what had happened to her. She unraveled the lies of an unhappy marriage and family life, as the words and photos of my blog described the real truth of joy, love, unity and partnership. So she unraveled mine, in photos and words, their intimate conversations and pictures. I had been unknowingly wounding her daily, so she had to return the favour with a thousand cuts to the heart in one fell swoop.

 

It was a dirty, mean and nasty thing to do. But it showed her true colours.

 

On some level, I suppose I should thank her. For revealing their relationship and our marriage were built on lies and deceit. Perhaps on some level one day I will be grateful as this devastation could be the opportunity to rebuild on stronger foundations and to build a life far more creative, equal and beautiful together.  And perhaps she may be grateful to me, for my blog, for saving her from a relationship that could never have been more than secrets, lies and fantasy.

 

But I doubt it. For all the messages she has sent me, she tries to tell me she is pure, sweet and innocent, but in all the copied dialogue, photos and words she has sent me, the icing maybe sickly white, but it is covering a cake that is rotten to the core, hollow, empty and lacking in flavour.  Her words only ever to destroy, throw blame, cause devastation.

 

My words painfully innocent in comparison.

 

And so there it is.  What I am holding on to that doesn’t serve me.  The words and images that display a life of liars.

 

‘In the end, just three things matter:

How well we have lived;

How well we have loved;

How well we have learned to let go.’

Jack Kornfield in ‘Get Happy.’

 

So can I let it go?   Can I let the ghost of her go in order to love well?  To continue to love the man who he is now, not the man he was?

 

I could.  Or rather I can.  I can block it from my mind, erase it all from my photographic memory, ignore the imprint on my heart, delete the images from my phone, my icloud.

 

But the question is do I want to?  Am I ready to?

 

So to Big Magic.  Liz talks about the Martyr and the Trickster.  She has been the voice of so much reason to me recently.  So many of her chapters guiding lights in what to do next.  And today was no different.  Who do I want to be?  The Martyr or the Trickster?  Her descriptions of the two made me laugh.

 

I will not play the woeful, pitiful martyr in this bitter sweet play of my life story.

And yet nor will I play the lighthearted joker of a trickster in this tragedy and dramatic twist of my journey on this earth.

 

I will be the heroine.  Just as everyone is the hero of their own one time earthly play.  Today I am clear on my brave new chapters, I know what is going to be left behind in the last one.  I will continue to fight and win the battle of my heart and mind.  I have my armoury, I have my troops.   Onward!  I hear my heroine shout.

 

And yet inside, I am still petrified.  This next chapter, I will aid my heroine to find strength and confidence, for on the other side of that is the Utopia that is happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

Fear and anxiety have been the words that have stood out for me today.  Recognition that I feel both.  Final acceptance.  I don’t like to admit that I am afraid.  I don’t really suppose anyone does?

 

A lovely friend gave me a brilliant little book called ‘Start where you are’ for Christmas and it is full of little exercises alongside positive or thought provoking quotes.  I scribbled through a fair few of them in Africa, opened my mind to my dreams, of plans, of travel, of the future unlimited my anyone or anything.

 

Today the page fell open on a different page.

 

“Fears are paper tigers.”  And the adjacent exercise had two outlined lions and inside of each tiger I had to write 3 of my biggest fears.  Once done, admitted, accepted and out there on the page, I had to colour in the tigers so I couldn’t see my fears.  Gone.  Easy as that.  Paint over them, with bright colour.  The fear, just a thought on paper.

 

I have a tug of war, or many tugs of war going on in.  But the common denominator is fear against courage.  The mind against the heart.

 

Fear.  Fear of it being too soon to forgive him again, let him too close again, love him again.

Courage.  Courage from my heart to accept dinner and movie, a cuddle on the sofa.

 

Fear.  Fear of being hurt again, fear of finding out more hidden secrets and lies.

Courage. Courage to see his remorse, his tears, hear his words and see them as truthful and real.

 

Fear. Fear of being alone, a lonely sad and bitter spinster, bitter and ugly.

Courage.  Courage to allow myself to have fun, be happy, to do what I love doing, be with who I love and just to be me.

 

Fear.  Fear of being together, just because on paper, in spreadsheets it is the right decision for the best future for the boys, but in reality, being unhappy and dejected.

Courage.  Courage to take steps to find my own bolt hole for the time being, just the 3 of us to give me confidence on being alone.

 

Fear.  Fear of loving again.  Fear of being in this heartbroken pain again.

Courage.  Courage to know that one day I will be able to trust again.  One day.

 

Fear.  Fear of never knowing what choice to make, fear of always being undecided and ‘in limbo’.  Courage.  Courage to know that one day, I will wake up and just know.

 

My heart pulls him in.

My mind pushes him away.

 

One day, my heart will win.  Either because it still loves him, or the love is all gone.  Until that day, the battle will rage.  And I will remain in state of anxious annoyance.  The one where I live in the moment, focussing on seeing all the good around me, in him now, not then.  The one where I run as fast as I can to outrun the pain, the anger, the frustration of why? How? WHY?.  The one where I lie in bed and count my breath in and out to focus my mind away from the chatter.

 

And I take hope from my passage in the ‘Get Happy’ Book.

 

“Hold hands with anxiety.”  It says.  For it motivates us.  “…learn to see it as a friend or scared child and hold its hand.”  Doing anything new, working through any change will always bring with it a certain level of anxiety, but recognition of the fear, acceptance of the fear can help you perform beyond expectation, by keeping you on your toes, heighten your senses.  Fear can be a friend.

 

And overcoming fear (your head), with courage (your heart), makes you brave.