Last night I went on my first ‘first date’ in over 18 years.

It was very different in some ways to my last ‘first date’ and in some ways similar.

Similar in the sense of nerves, a tingle of excitement, uncertainty laced with anticipation of where it may lead… and what to wear!?  Revealing or demure?  Classic or trendy? Natural or dramatic?  What first impression did I want to make…?  I was late… not such a great impression…

Different in the sense of what we did.  My previous first date was in London, in the summer, drinking in the eclectic and trendy bars in the backstreets of Regent Street and ending up dancing in the Hannover Grand, pizza on the way home in the early hours. This time it was in Leeds, a very smart restaurant, beautiful wine, a chateaubriand and a movie.

My original date nearly killed me.  He didn’t have a key to the house he shared with 2 others – they only had 2 keys between 3.  So he had to smash a window with a brick… and the brick missed my head by an inch.

My date last night started to heal me, revive me.  He spoke of his first wife.  All the things he loved about her, admired about her, missed about her.  He spoke of the remorse he felt, the anguish and guilt for all the pain he has inflicted on so many.  He showed his vulnerability and shame, with humility and honesty.  He was generous and kind, respectful, grateful and patient and reminded me very much of my last first date, the man I fell hook line and sinker for, fell in love with and adored for over 18 years.

And in those moments I was reminded of the words of Marianne Williamson, who continues to give me great comfort and inspiration:

‘Forgiveness is the choice to see people as they are now.  When we’re mad at people, we’re angry because of something said or did before this moment.  By letting go of the past, we make room for miracles to replace our grievances.’

The road ahead is a long one and I can already see the ups and downs, twists and turns from where I stand.  I know it is just a road, a path, a decided route that I can step off at any time.

So with a deep breath and by trusting that I cannot heal while dwelling on the past,  holding on to my grievances,  carrying around bitterness and anger, I can only heal by living fully in the present moment, by opening up my heart.  I have taken the first step.

The week of half term we spent with my Dad had originally been booked in so that I we could help him declutter and removed some of all my sister and my ‘stuff’..  the stored stuff, the accumulated paraphernalia over the years.

I was at boarding school from the age of 10 until I left 6^th form at 18.  In the 80’s, the only communication was through snail mail.  The phone was limited, one phone call a week with 10 pence to last a few minutes.

My Dad (and Mumbo) had kept ever letter they had ever received from me… and all the correspondence from them.  My Dad wrote religiously once a week, sometimes twice.  Mumbo was more sporadic, wrote on a whim or an emotion or if she had exciting news! … I found her first letter.  It made me cry… in an already emotional week, reading her words of kindness, of courage  and huge love as I embarked on a new journey alone, with new friends, in a new bed, created an overwhelming turmoil of emotion. Huge waves of grief and loss as she wasn’t there to tell me the same words again, to hold me and stroke my hair… and small pangs of anger.  Why me?  Why so much loss, grief, pain to be inflicted on me this year, in such a short space of time?

That one had to go back in the box with the hundreds of others for me to read when I had restored my resolve.

I did pick out one though and brought it home with me.  Perhaps the irony tweaked my attention, pinched at my sense of humour.  By the style of the writing and the phone number at the top, I think I must have been about 7 or 8.

‘Dear Father Christmas,

I would like a wedding dress and a wedding ring and shoes and leg warmers and pyjamas and a Sindy House with all the bits of pieces and clothes.

From Alison’.

32 years later I have all those things, even the leg warmers (neon for an 80’s party!).  In some ways I wish I could go back and whisper to my 8 year old self, as I wrote my letter and tell her she would have all those things….or would that spoil it, spoil the excitement?

As I remain, still suffering with the conflict of choices, the painful emotions, I wish my future self could come and whisper to me that I will get what I wish for now..

‘Dear Father Christmas,

I would like ….’

I am not sure … but just to know that it will be ok, that I will be ok.  That I will find joy and get my sparkle back.

I have always loved research.  Books.  Libraries.  Words.

Writing essays at uni on a topic I was interested in, I would spend weeks gathering as much information as possible, notes upon pages of notes.  And then at some point, after reading enough, key themes would appear and that’s when the story, the essay framework would start to fall together.

I feel like I am on that journey again now.  I am researching.  Fact finding.  Gathering all the information.  Making copious notes in books, my laptop, my phone…

In a day where I have turned off my emotions and the noise, I was able to focus more on building my strength in order to be able to tackle how to write the next chapter of my life.

I started following one avenue of research, asking questions, making mental notes, following up on leads…  letting the results of the investigation and exploration sink in.

And then I changed tack, took a different perspective, saw things from a different angle.. and started to scrutinize other’s research, analysis and assessment.  It was highly fascinating, thought provoking with many questions that are worth exploring.

Being armed with information, despite more questions to be considered, I feel less weak, less vulnerable.

The shaping of a ‘straw man’ for the next chapter is looking promising.

One step at a time….

Today, in an appointment, I was asked if I thought I was depressed.

I was rather taken aback… not sure how to answer.  After the year I have been through, and then with the icing on the cake, including the ‘cherry’ of these last few weeks, I suppose, I would be entitled to be that.  But what is depression?  I only know it as a clinical term for other people.  Not something I would associate with me.

The only way I can describe how I feel, is by using a scene from my favourite movie, Inside Out.

The lead character, Riley has core memories which are represented by bright yellow spheres, protected in a special ‘core memory bank’ to be accessed readily at any time.  Each one represents a core part of her and her unique personality, a core memory for ‘goofball’, ‘hockey’, ‘friendships’, ‘honesty’ and of course ‘family’.  These core memories have shaped Riley to be ‘Riley’ as she knows herself and how others know her.

As life takes an unexpected turn for Riley and her life as she knew it changes, she reflects on her core memories that once made her joyful and happy, but suddenly and unexpectedly they make her sad.  Inside Riley’s head, Joy finds Sadness touching a yellow core memory and therefore turning it blue;  ‘Everything is different now’, cries Riley.  And a new core memory in blue is made to replace the old joy core memory, leaving Riley consumed with sadness, suffocating her personality traits, turning them off, leaving them in darkness.

I have core memories and personality traits similar to that of Riley, ‘fun’, ‘health’, ‘friendships’, ‘honesty & integrity’ and of course at the centre ‘family and love’.  These all made me happy, and despite the tough year, at the end of the summer, my true colour of yellow and joy shone through the sadness and I felt like ‘me’ again.

I have always been known to take photos, a lot of them.  Maybe because I like looking at the memories, maybe because subconsciously I am worried I may forget, that I may have the Alzheimer gene like my Mumbo and Granny.

I have a happy memory wall in the kitchen that I look at daily and regularly, which I suppose triggers my core memory bank and each time I see it, makes me feel blessed, grateful and full of joy. Our favourite holidays, happy times, laughter and they were there to help me focus on our family, our life and our love as I made significant changes in my life, my attitude, my beliefs.

But now, as I look at them, they all are tainted with pain, grief, loss and overwhelming sadness, as all I see are the hidden lies, false smiles, ignorant laughter, all made to be a façade.

But it isn’t just Sadness touching each memory… Anger and Disgust are also fighting over my joy spheres.  Fighting, grabbing, tussling and making so much noise in my head….

And Joy… she is just sinking… sinking… and shrinking back in to the distance, curled up on the floor, head on her knees… watching the carnage in disbelief, in shock, not able to move or do anything to save the precious golden orbs.

Is that depression?  The definition according to the internet is ‘feelings of severe despondency and dejection’.  Synonyms are melancholy, sorrow, woe, misery, gloom… many more.

So am I depressed?

The movie depicts how Joy and the emotion crew work hard to help Riley change her perspective on her new situation. Can I get Joy back?  Can I help Joy become the main character again?

If I reflect on the film and when I reflect on how I have done it before, I know I am not despondent or dejected because I believe in myself enough that I can do it again.  I have sought help. I have my armoury of tools – my books and lessons I have learnt, my support network, my inner strength. I have time.  And I have my belief.

Like one of the messages a friend sent to me, I believe that ‘some times good things fall apart so better things can fall together’.

And I have hope.  ‘Hope is the conduit for miracles.’

With hope and belief coupled with time, I know I will create a new happy wall, covered in happy memories.

So no.. I am not depressed.

But for the moment, i am all probably all of the synonyms, , as I unstick the happy wall to create a blank canvas.

 

There are so many kind people in my life.  Messages, flowers, gifts of giant chocolate buttons, quotes, photos of helpful passages, the feeling of support and love is overwhelming.  Overwhelming in a nice way… a heavy blanket kind of way, secure, reassuring … just there.  I can feel the weight of it, but I am unable to do anything with it… push it away or bring it closer.

I read the messages, but I have no energy to respond.

I smile at the pretty flowers and I eat the chocolates, but they don’t fill the void.

I ponder the quotes and passages, but today they just feel like empty words.

With the boys back at school, I have no focus, no reason to stay strong.  I am allowing the wheels to fall off the bus, allowing myself to crumble slowly.

I fill the empty, quiet house with the voice of an old guru friend, Tony Robbins.

‘Pain is part of life’ he says.  ‘Pain is like a well… you can choose to fill it with fear or with love… you can choose to fill it with anger, resentment or you can fill it with beauty, love, strength and spiritual fulfilment’.

My pain well is not filled with anger or resentment, bitterness or revenge.  But nor is it yet filled with beauty and love.  It is currently just a deep emptiness, numbness, shame, humiliation and sorrow.  I believe that I need to let those emotions flow through the well first before I fill it up with the good stuff… otherwise it will continue to bubble away at the bottom of this deep pit, bubble away while it is ignored until it can no longer stay quiet.

He continues, ‘Suffering happens when life isn’t they way you thought it should be, especially if something outside your control f*cks it up!  But step up and out of suffering. Suffering is not the story.  Pain is a part of life, suffering is an option.’

I do tend to agree with him… suffering because of the actions of another is painful.  But perhaps, sitting with the suffering is part of the process of healing.  And once healed, you then have the clarity to take that step, to step out, up and onwards.  But from experience, rushing that first step can only lead you back to a slippery slope down into the well of suffering.

So right now, I am going to stay here, and allow myself to feel the pain, experience the suffering and know that I have a blanket of support around me, that I hope will forgive me if I fail to respond, reply or acknowledge their presence.

I can’t stop reverting back to the words of Meredith.

‘Sometimes the past is something you can’t let go of.

And sometimes the past is something we will do anything to forget.

And sometimes we learn something new about the past that changes everything we know about the present.’

I am stuck in between the past I know and the past now revealed;  I am stuck between the past I don’t understand and a future I can no longer see;  I am stuck in the middle, just surviving each moment that passes.

I am stuck trying to accept the past, the uncovered events, knowing that it can’t be changed, that it is what it is, even though I didn’t know it.  I am the ignorant fool I was so frightened of becoming.

I am stuck concentrating on trying to understand the future, knowing that each moment in the present has an impact, a bearing on the choices and path I take.  I am the writer of my next chapter, pen poised, but can’t put the nib in the ink.

I am stuck between my head and my heart.

I am stuck in my head with all the facts, all the stones overturned and all the secrets laid bare.  My head is telling me what to write next, loudly, clearly, resolutely, absolutely and calmly.

I am stuck in my heart, tender, honest, scarred and torn.  My heart still beating is asking me to write a different story to my head, quietly, whispering, gently and nervously.

I am stuck.

I don’t like being stuck and standing still.  To get ‘unstuck’ I know I just have to make a decision.  Take the first step, write the first word..

But perhaps I am still just catching my breath?

And perhaps that is exactly where I am meant to be?  Breathing.   Breathing through each moment.  Considering and reflecting on the past in order to shape a new future.  Listening to both my head and my heart….

Breathing…..

…Until I feel I am ready to put that pen to paper and start the next chapter.

Today, I woke to the sound of the boys leaving the house at 6.30am…And the slamming of the back door marked my day of solitude.

I had made a mental list of all the things I was going to do, accomplish, all the things I should be doing to continue to heal emotionally, mentally and keep physically able and strong, my therapeutic practices.

Today I did everything I shouldn’t….  I stayed in bed, watched box sets, snoozed, ate toast and jam, dripping with butter…

Instead of my morning mindfulness, calm and meditational breathing, I let my mind get noisy, watched crap tv, filling my head with rubbish.

Instead of eating food for fuel, I ate for comfort.

Instead of getting out in the fresh air to run, walk, breathe, I lay under my 10 tog duvet.

Instead of unpacking, washing, tidying, clearing up, I just left it… because I can, no one to tut at the untidiness.

Today I did everything I shouldn’t according to all books about finding happiness within, healing, forgiveness, trust… and then perhaps, for the first time in two weeks, I felt like not ‘trying’ so hard.  I didn’t have anyone to put a ‘face’ on for… just me and the cat.

Today’s therapy was a different kind of therapeutic practice.

And one of my favourite series was back. Meredith Grey never fails to provide me with a few lines that relate to my life, words for me to think on.

‘Best to keep the past in the past.  Move on. Learn from it.  If we don’t learn from our mistakes, we wind up in a future that we would never choose.

The past is written. There is no changing it.  What is done is done.  But the future is ours to chose, for better or worse.’

…

As a postscript, I congratulate myself on making a delicious roast beef and trimmings for the boys’ return… and eating it.

Tonight, after the long drive home to Yorkshire, at the end of a long day, after a long night looking after a poorly Willy, I am feeling beyond tired.

But the day has been peppered with little moments that have lit up my sad mood.

Finding the boys at the kitchen table in Grandad’s house, playing pick up sticks…. Just as I used to with Bambi over 30 years ago.

Seeing my Dad and Edna waving us goodbye, knowing they are so happy, in love, content and always there for us.

Arriving at my best friend and sister in law’s house, being bear hugged by my long legged, beautiful niece and seeing how happy the 4 cousins all disappeared to play.

Leaving knowing, I am not the only one is totally confused, disbelieving, feeling like it is all a dream.

Laughing out loud as I watch Willy dancing down the pedestrian streets of York with his day-glo Aperol freebie bobble hat and matching day-glo ‘gravity’ socks, shaking his boottie, hearing him giggle as he knows he is making me laugh.

Always my Tom Tom, coming up to me for no reason and wrapping his long arms around me and lifting his head for a kiss, saying ‘love you, mama’.

Arriving back home to a very welcome food package from a wonderful friend and neighbour left on our doorstop, with instructions to ‘bake’ and ‘enjoy!’.

Freezing fireworks and marshmallows on sticks, sticky in the fire, sticky on our chins.

And as I pick up my new book ‘the Secret Daily Teachings’, I find that today’s quote is rather apt for what I have written.

‘Look for the gifts in everything, especially when you are facing what appears to be a negative situation.’

The theme of today has been ‘letting go’.

I let my boys go.  I have held them so close to me for the duration.  I needed them.  They were my rocks, my reason for breathing, living, eating and survival.

But my Dad, the legend that he is, without asking but as a matter of fact, took them for a day of fun, to give me time to myself, to ‘let go’.

The peace of the house was almost stifling, too quiet, my brain chatter too loud.  So I lay on the same patch of carpet as I did when Mumbo was dying, by the conservatory, looking out over the valley and let my thoughts go to the thunder of the rain on the glass. I let my mind go.

A while later, I found a comfy leather armchair and a good flat white and got out my book. As always, when the student is ready, the teacher appears and this time her name is Gabrielle Bernstein and her book ‘the Universe has your back’.  I was (and still am) intrigued to find out how my latest circumstances could mean how this is the case. The first chapter explains how happiness, success and safety comes when you align yourself to the ‘vibrations of the universe’, and how to ‘let go’ and surrender to all the signs you see around you.  I underlined a sentence:

‘She stopped relying on her own strength and subconsciously asked the universe for help.’

And in that moment, I did as I read, as she said and I let go.  I let my strength go.  My body softened, a tear or two fell down my cheek as I closed my eyes and I surrendered;  I let go of all thoughts of trying to find the answers, I let go of trying to understand, I let go of playing the ‘what if’ game, I let go of trying to fathom out what happens next.  I let it all go.

I haven’t wandered around the shops without agenda or timeframe for many years, many years. But anytime I do head out to the physical rather than ‘virtual’ shops, I am always drawn to and always have been drawn to book shops.  It has always been one of my happy places, to find the latest novel, thriller or best selling cook book and now include the ‘self help’ section.  My eyes and fingers wander along the spines and I picked out a book called ‘the happiness project’, rather apt as my next read and a book called ‘write it down, let it go’.  I turned to the back to see the summary but it simply said,

‘Let it go:  Writing down worries reduces stress and provides long term health benefits.’

It is a little book for writing thoughts, with mindfulness tips and exercises.  I wish I had bought it now… but I didn’t.  I am not sure why.  Next time.

But it (the book, the universe – I am not sure which!) spoke to me.  I have been questioning whether I should continue to blog during this emotional time. Share my deepest thoughts and feelings publicly.  But just as I committed to a #365dayblogchallenge last year, and I blogged through some turbulent times then, I am committed to my new challenge of #dailyblogforever.  And just as people connected to me, publicly or privately during the times when Mumbo was at her worst in the mental hospital and in the dying weeks, sharing their feelings of grief, of Alzheimer’s, of dementia, thanking me for sharing for whatever reason… it seems that I am not alone with my car crash.  There are car crashes, juggernauts and RTA’s happening to other people I know and it seems my blog makes them feel less alone, the books I share become books they read, they open up and share their secrets with me.

So the doubt that had crept in, the feeling of uncertainty, insecurity and worry of what people must think…  all of that, after reading that one line.. I let it go.  I strongly believe as I have done all along, that this act of writing my thoughts, fears, feelings, learnings and ponderings is how I got through last year and I strongly believe how I will get through this one too, and therefore I will continue to let it go.