We went to the ‘flicks’ and pizza this afternoon.  Always a treat.

 

In one of the trailers, Batman says to Robin – ‘life doesn’t give you seatbelts’.

 

My life has certainly felt that way this last 10 days, a car crash, a great big juggernaut smashing in to my blind spot… and no seat belts.  I have felt like life has been in slow motion and I am currently summersaulting in slow motion through the air, watching the debris and catastrophe happening below me, a bird’s eye view of events happening without having any control of the outcome, my trajectory or landing.

 

But despite my weightlessness, I can feel my anchors.  My happiness anchors in the form of my boys, always watching me with their big blue innocent eyes.  My strength anchors in the form of my oldest, truest friends, the Iron Ring are closing ranks, their steel like loyalty tightening around me, ready to catch me, prop me up when my legs threaten to give way.

 

The film we watched was Trolls… And as always, the messages in these movies for small people are profound and told in a beautiful way.

 

The Trolls are happy little creatures, brightly coloured, positive and beautiful living a life of happiness with singing and hugs at the heart of their culture.  They are threatened by the Bergens, who have been brainwashed to believe they can only experience true happiness by eating a troll.

 

As some of the trolls are captured by the Bergens, Princess Poppy starts on a quest to rescue them, but in doing so falls in to a trap and ends up putting the entire Troll community in danger, as they are sent to be eaten by the King Bergen.

 

As she realises her Kingdom is collapsing around her, she loses her positivity, her joy and her colour, sparkle and smile :  ‘The world isn’t all cupcakes and rainbows after all,’ she declares and her vibrant pink turns dull and lifeless.

 

Because her light fades and her colour diminishes, so does that of all her friends.

 

It made me cry silent tears in the dark as I held my goddaughter, for I feel like Poppy.  And yet I don’t have the luxury of letting that show in public, in front of my boys.

 

Of course, the film has a fairytale ending..  Out from the back of the troll crowd comes one of the trolls, previously the only cynic to the hugs and singing….

 

‘Hey you with the sad eyes… don’t be discouraged’ and it was JT singing to me, with my BFF holding my hand and her two gorgeous girls snuggling in to us, feeling the moment.

 

My true colours are still there, even while I am feeling grey and black, black and blue from the crash.. and as the film’s message repeats many times:  Happiness is inside everyone – you just need the help to find it’…

 

And my girls and boys today helped me do that, I smiled, I laughed, I loved and I showed my true colours … (and I felt like eating).

 

 

 

You with the sad eyes
Don’t be discouraged
Oh I realize
It’s hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small

 

But I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

 

Show me a smile then,
Don’t be unhappy, can’t remember
When I last saw you laughing

If this world makes you crazy
And you’ve taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I’ll be there

And I’ll see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

 

Can’t remember, when I last saw you laugh.

If this world makes you crazy
And you’ve taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I’ll be there

And I’ll see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors
True colors are shining through

I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow.

 

 

 

 

I am rubbish at looking at myself in the mirror.  After years of body dysmorphia – I just don’t do it.  Even on my wedding day I didn’t.  It was only when we got back off honeymoon, I saw the photos of what I actually looked like in my dress… It was before the days of mobile phones, facebook and insta…

 

I have become better, trained myself to look in the mirror and find things I like rather than what I don’t like…   So this morning I look at myself in the mirror.  I do not know the person standing there.  A shadow, a stranger.

 

My eyes dull, almost dead where they were recently sparkly, full of excitement and happiness.

 

My skin dry, pale where it was once pink, flushed full of health and glow.

 

My body thin, I can count my ribs, my hip bones jutting where it was once healthy, lean and strong.

 

How can the actions of one person drain the life out of another?

 

And yet I am grateful for my family and my oldest friends.  The ones who connect out of love rather than the thirst for knowledge. The ones who know to give me a bowl of dairy milk with a side of salad.  The ones who know what to say, or not say.  The ones.. those ones.

 

And for the person who sent me this as it is just what I needed to hear.

 

 

There she is. . . the “too much” woman. The one who loves too hard, feels too deeply, asks too often, desires too much.

There she is taking up too much space, with her laughter, her curves, her honesty, her sexuality. Her presence is as tall as a tree, as wide as a mountain. Her energy occupies every crevice of the room. Too much space she takes.

There she is causing a ruckus with her persistent wanting, too much wanting. She desires a lot, wants everything—too much happiness, too much alone time, too much pleasure. She’ll go through brimstone, murky river, and hellfire to get it. She’ll risk all to quell the longings of her heart and body. This makes her dangerous.

She is dangerous.

And there she goes, that “too much” woman, making people think too much, feel too much, swoon too much. She with her authentic prose and a self-assuredness in the way she carries herself. She with her belly laughs and her insatiable appetite and her proneness to fiery passion. All eyes on her, thinking she’s hot shit.

Oh, that “too much” woman. . . too loud, too vibrant, too honest, too emotional, too smart, too intense, too pretty, too difficult, too sensitive, too wild, too intimidating, too successful, too fat, too strong, too political, too joyous, too needy—too much.

She should simmer down a bit, be taken down a couple notches. Someone should put her back in a more respectable place. Someone should tell her.
Here I am. . . the Too Much Woman, with my too-tender heart and my too-much emotions.

A feminist, pleasure seeker, empath. I want a lot—justice, sincerity, spaciousness, ease, intimacy, actualization, respect, to be seen, to be understood, your undivided attention, and all of your promises to be kept.

I’ve been called high maintenance because I want what I want, and intimidating because of the space I occupy. I’ve been called selfish because I am self-loving. I’ve been called a witch because I know how to heal myself.

And still. . . I rise. Still, I want and feel and ask and risk and take up space.
I must.

Us Too Much Women have been facing extermination for centuries—we are so afraid of her, terrified of her big presence, of the way she commands respect and wields the truth of her feelings. We’ve been trying to stifle the Too Much Woman for ions—in our sisters, in our wives, in our daughters. And even now, even today, we shame the Too Much Woman for her bigness, for her wanting, for her passionate nature.

And still. . . she thrives.

In my own world and before my very eyes, I am witnessing the reclamation and rising up of the Too Much Woman. That Too Much Woman is also known to some as Wild Woman or the Divine Feminine. In any case, she is me, she is you, and she is loving that she’s finally, finally getting some airtime.

If you’ve ever been called “too much,” or “overly emotional,” or “bitchy,” or “stuck up,” you are likely a Too Much Woman.

And if you are. . . I implore you to embrace all that you are—all of your depth, all of your vastness; to not hold yourself in, and to never abandon yourself, your bigness, your radiance.

Forget everything you’ve heard—your too much-ness is a gift; oh yes, one that can heal, incite, liberate, and cut straight to the heart of things.

Do not be afraid of this gift, and let no one shy you away from it. Your too much-ness is magic, is medicine. It can change the world.

So please, Too Much Woman: Ask. Seek. Desire. Expand. Move. Feel.Be.
Make your waves, fan your flames, give us chills.
Please, rise.
We need you. ~

~Ev’Yan Whitney

 

 

 

I always take so much inspiration from my boys..

 

I spent the day with my beautiful sister and all our children at a play barn with so much to do.  Despite the tractors, animal feeding, egg collecting, outdoor play area, they loved the big indoor slides the most. The gentle wavy ones for the little ones or warm up, the steep one in to a ball pit.. and the death drops!

 

For the 60 minutes before we stopped them for lunch, they were happy on the gentle one and the ball pit one, saying ‘no way’ to the death drop – ‘waaaaaaay too scary!’.

 

But fuelled with lunch and while Bambi and I cleared away the lunch remnants, we saw little blond heads right in the heavens, little legs dangling off the ledge..  And then, whoosh!  They were gone!  Within moments, their little heads appeared back at the top again… and again and again and again.  Until 10 minutes later, a very hot sweaty haired Willy came dashing over.

 

‘Mummy!  I was so so scared, I wasn’t going to do it… but then I just decided to do it!  And it was brilliant!  And now I am going to do it again and again and again!  It’s like anything… if you are scared, just do it!  You find that it is brilliant and you want to do it again!’

 

And off he went to do it all again.

 

I am frightened of a lot of things at the moment.  Fearful.  Nervous.  About to throw myself off a ledge….loose my stomach, lose my mind, scream… Will there be a soft, smooth slope to catch me?

 

One of the things that had me nervous was this week;  coming to help my Dad clear out the clutter left in my childhood home.  Evoking and stirring up emotions from losing Mumbo, of Dad leaving the only home I remember from being a young girl.

 

But as willy said – you just have to do it;  do the things you fear, face it and throw yourself into it.  Bambi and I did that today. We blitzed it. We decluttered and we cleaned. We boxed up stuff and binned stuff.  We kept stuff for us and we are giving stuff away.

 

And what I realised is stuff, is just stuff. What means something to someone, means nothing to someone else.  What means something at one point in time, means nothing later.  Maybe a little trigger of a memory.. .. but so many more are created.  And while it may trigger a happy memory, it is the memory that is worth the gold, that is the priceless artefact to be treasured, nurtured and stored away delicately.

 

Interestingly, we didn’t really find anything that triggered a bad memory. The decluttering of my first home has inspired me to decluttter my current home…. Bad memories, be gone!

 

 

I woke up at my Dad’s.  It is so quiet.  There was so much quiet, even in my head this morning that I managed a good 15 minutes of meditation practice, healing my body from the inside and clearing my head of the negative and filling with love, kindness and hope for the future.  I felt centred.  Mindfulness is a practice I started seriously as Mumbo was dying, but I had practiced to get through the ups and downs of marriage, life, kids, parenting.

 

Breathing, allowing emotions, thoughts and feelings to wash over me and through my mind, without question, or attachment.  I am not strict with myself.  I have just learnt to be a watcher.  And if my thoughts are frantic and hugely active, then I have trained my mind to focus on a body scan, to be grateful for each part of me, grateful for everyone and everything I love.  I say a loving kindness repetition and give love to myself and others who need it. And I then allow my mind to wander to the future and visualise what I want to create, who I want to be.

 

I see the house we will live in.  I visualise the boys coming in through the back door with their muddy feet and happy blond smiles.  I visualise my kitchen, full of light and peace and calm.  A place for honesty, laughter, discussion and open debate.    I see myself fulfilled from a day focussed on doing things I love, rather than feeling under pressure to do what I should.   I see a happy household.

 

The calm and positively focussed start to the day meant I could make sure the boys had a good day, a good ‘holiday’ at Grandad’s.

 

The food the night before, a few hours sleep and my calmer state, meant I was ready to run.  My next medicinal practice.

 

Some new running shoes had arrived just before we left.  And as I put them on, I remarked to the boys that I loved the logo! ‘Happy Run’!!!  Running is my happy place.  Running with my boys is my even happier place. As they cycle alongside me, they count me down from 10 and then we all sprint and pedal as fast and as far as we can!

 

The wind in our hair made us all whoop out loud!  Blue skies above us, fresh air in our lungs and orange trees around us – a beautiful morning to be alive!

 

There is always hope.

 

Willy said something to me, or was it Tom… Perhaps it was Tom… either way – one of them said, when I was in your Tummy Mummy, I decided to be a boy.  I decided to have blond hair.  I decided when I wanted to come out of you.

 

There is hope.  But more importantly, I have the power to decide.  I have complete power on what happens next, who I decide to be and where I want to go.  As a new baby is conceived, so is a new life.  And only time will tell what will happen, and I can decide how long that time is before this life is born.

 And until then, I will ‘run happy’.

 

 

I feel like I have done a full circle in a year.

 

Last year, we spent half term in Cornwall, on the beach with Dad and my sister.  Healing time.  Family time to hold each other after the sad times of putting Mumbo in a home for the first time.  Father and daughters time, for him to help us through the grief and painful time of losing our Mumbo, seeing her behind locked doors, shuffling, drugged.  And for us, with the grandchildren to give him focus and a void to fill.

 

And here were are again.  Healing time.  Family time.  This time a different kind of loss.  But a similar pain. A similar need for distraction, unconditional love of family, to be held… and to be looked after.  To give me a focus and a void to fill.

 

As Bambi and I walk round the house with sticky notes, sticking green, yellow and blue labels on furniture, pictures, lamps, ornaments that we want to keep, the 4 grandchildren rag around.  They open drawers and cupboards and find  old army whistles, the old wooden imperial measuring sticks, they too lay claim to their prizes, their memories, their heirlooms, their treasures.

 

Dad provides us with one of his legendary meals.  And Edna couldn’t have dished up a more welcome, comforting meal; savoury mince, mash and carrots.  It feels like she has been part of the family for decades, and a calming presence in emotional turbulence.

 

And tonight, I am in my childhood bedroom.  This time a small boy snoring at my feet.  Perhaps as I ate today, I will sleep tonight.

 

And besides, another small victory for the ‘strong independent woman’ today;  my car broke down as we stopped half way down from the north to the south.  But I bought jump leads, and waved them around the front of my bonnet, and played the damsel in distress.  It worked.  I still have no idea how to jump start a car, but I know I will always be able to find someone who can!

 

 

 

 

 

My mentor, Wayne, continued to be guide today.  Explaining that everyone in ‘this play called your life’ (as he calls it), turns up for a reason and then leaves it.  For the good parts and the sad parts.  To bring you love and joy and to teach you life’s lessons.  That everything happens in a specific order for a reason.

 

And his words resonated around the car as he said..

 

“All of your tears cannot and will not wash out one word of it.  This is your past.”

 

For the tears have been falling.  I thought they would fall as the close friends I have been able to see, held me.  But I have been surprisingly together when in company.

 

It is when I am alone.

 

When I stand in the rainfall shower and as the warm water flows, so do my tears.  But no one can see, tear drops and water droplets, I am alone.

 

When I am in the car, a song on my playlist, a choke will erupt, like a guttural animal.  But no one can hear, I am alone.

 

When I am in my bed under the duvet, the darkness engulfing my soul, the pictures in my mind, the fears of my fate, the weight of the decisions, the crushing of my heart, the pain in my chest making me sob.  But no one can see.  I am alone.

 

When I am practicing yoga, breathing in to the tension, allowing the heat of the 40 degrees to warm and relax, clearing my head, the solitary tear from each eye mistaken for sweat.  And no one can see, I am at the back.  I am alone.

 

The tears will not wash it away, but it is release.  A recognition of the past, the present and the lost future.

 

I remain strong.

I am strong.

And tomorrow I will be stronger;  I managed to eat.  Giant Buttons to the rescue.

 

 

 

 

With Mumbo dying earlier this year, Tom being victimised, the Big Man in London, Willy being lost and lonely, I held it together.  I held it together by being a survivor.  Or actually, the experiences were teaching me how to be a survivor.  The techniques I learnt through that time, are serving me well now.

 

Forgiveness.  Love.  Kindness. Compassion.  Feeling the pain.  Living in the moment.  Positivity.  Mental Gardening.  Vulnerability.  Inner strength. The power of intention.  Peace.  Abundance.   The power of your thoughts. The power of your words.  The  power of choice.  Meditation. Mindfulness. Gratitude.  Always gratitude.

 

I will be always grateful to my teachers Dr Wayne Dyer, Marianne Williamson, Jen Sincero, Tony Robbins, Brene Brown, Oprah Winfrey, Eckhart Tolle, Rhonda Byrne, Robin Sharma, David Hamilton, Susan Jeffers and more for showing me how to prepare for impact.

 

Today, I feel stronger.  Well in this moment anyway.

 

My morning meditation start with the words I found from my book in the summer, ‘I love me’. “I am loving kindness”  and then I add “I am happy, confident, full of happiness and free from pain.”  I repeat and breathe until I feel it flow through my body.  And then I give the same to others who I feel need it.  For the last few months, I have been focussing on my sister and on the Big Man.  I could feel their pain, or their frustrations.  It helped me show and feel compassion, to be and show patience when in their presence.

 

As I say those words repeatedly today, it brings me peace and calm and the clarity of what and how I need to act and be in the next few minutes, moments … difficult days and weeks to come.

 

I can see two paths ahead of me.  To play the victim.  Or to play the survivor.

 

To play the victim, I would lay blame, hate, anger at the door of another.  Perhaps lash out, deflect the hurt caused and inflict pain back. I would focus on revenge, be blinded by my anger.   I see a person shrivelled in black, bent over, weak and nasty, turned ugly with evil.

 

To play the survivor, I would focus on myself and others.  Heal myself, strengthen from within.  Do the right thing, the respectful thing, the elegant thing.  I would focus on love, peace and healing,  forgiveness and gratitude for all I have, all I have learnt.  I see a person in white, tall, respectful and calm, peaceful with light.

 

I know who I am. I know who I truly am.  I know the path to choose and the person to be.  Because it feels right.

 

As I am calm and open, I am open to the universe and the messages it is sending me.   And because I am clear on my path, I recognise the messages in the right way.

 

In the background to discussions, Countryfile last night followed a beautiful Kingfisher, regal and strong, proud and true…. Before it bent over and started stabbing the eyes out of a fish it had in its claws.  I hear you Mumbo.  I know you are there.  Telling me to stand tall, stay proud.  I am the survivor, not the victim.

 

As we stand in the kitchen, I can smell a bad smell.  I can’t work it out.

 

And then I remember the gammon joint I was cooking for Monday family supper.  I had taken it out of the aga and put in the cold oven to keep from the dog.  4 days on, it smells like rotten pig.  It did nothing for my lack of appetite, but it did make me laugh with the irony.  I am the survivor, not the victim.

 

I choose to survive.  I am prepared for this.  I am strong.

 

Dr Wayne Dyer reminded me today of two things as I turned on my audiobook, it felt like he was in the passenger seat next to me, my advisor.

 

One – Detach yourself from the outcome.  You can’t make everyone see what you see.

 

“When you become the observer, you detach yourself from the outcome. You get your ego and everything in the material world out of the picture, and you allow the highest part of you to observe the circumstance. You remove all that inner turbulence, anguish, fear, and anxiety, and you then replace it with the calmness of a detached observer. The minute you sense that calmness, the solution is at hand. You’re not operating from adrenaline or fear or angst.”

 

And secondly and probably most importantly for me right now, this hit home.

 

“You can never remedy a bad relationship, by condemning it.”

 

 

 

I saw a little video today with some tips.  I love tips.

 

They are reminders of what I already know.

 

‘Even the tiniest step is progress.’  I got a few hours sleep.  I got up.  I got dressed.  I drove.  I am working on the eating thing.  Solid food makes me gag.

 

‘You don’t have to have it all figured out to make progress.’  That is such a huge relief.  My mind is exhausting and loud, debating and contradicting… Angry yet forgiving…. hopeful but so empty and bereft.

 

‘New beginnings can feel like endings.’  Where I was once excited of blank pages and new starts, I am so scared of new beginnings. It means the fairy tale is over.    I know I should see that means a new fairy tale is about to start.  But I like my old torn and tattered, well read, loved one.  A new one is scary to open.

 

‘Believe what your heart tells you, not what others say.’  Everyone has an opinion.  I have many opinions.  My heart is broken in to 2.  Maybe more… they all have opinons … I have no idea which one to feel or believe or to follow.

 

‘Stop overthinking, whatever happens, happens.’  Yes it does.  I will continue to take it moment to moment.

 

‘If it is meant to be, it will happen, at the right time, at the right place, for the right reasons.’  I can accept that for the future.  But what about what has just happened?  What are the right reasons for this?  Is it ‘right’?  It feels so … wrong.

 

‘Your best is yet to come.’  I look forward to that time.  I keep faith that this is true.

 

And as the boys and I, with friends walk, talk and play around a beautiful, Yorkshire Aboretum in the Autumn, I am reminded clearly of a picture I saw today also with a phrase :

 

‘The trees are about to show you just how beautiful letting go can be’.

 

If there is one thing I have learnt over the turbulent, rollercoaster ride of the last 3 years is that time, time is not only precious, but time is a wonderful healer.  The beauty of time is that it lets you reflect, it allows you to feel all the emotions that need to be felt, it allows you to let scars heal, bad memories fade and good ones surface.

 

And to get through that time passing, you live for the moment.  Take each one as it happens.  Allow emotions to ebb and flow, like the sea, to wash over you, bring with it some overwhelming pressure of feeling and dissipate leaving you free and open to the air to breathe.

 

And as my jumper said today – I am totally ‘winging it’ through those moments.

 

And as I ‘wing it’, I cheer myself on for every moment that passes, for each little obstacle handled, each task completed, each little triumph.  And I allow laughter and smiles in, jumping contests in the park with the boys and high 5’s with my friend as we change the smoke alarm battery that has been beeping for 2 days!  A blue job, I have never had to do.

 

Tomorrow, I will conquer the changing of the light bulbs and making a fire.

 

And I am strong.  i am strong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the end of a very surreal day, I am remembering the techniques I used in some of my darkest days while Mum was dying, Tom was hurting, Willy was lost and the Big Man nowhere to be seen…

 

I lived in the moment.  Not thinking about the past, what could have been or what is going to be.  Just the moment.

 

The feel of the steering wheel driving to Wetherby, admiring the beautiful red and yellow leaves on the trees.

 

Playing uno over the boys lunch of pasta pesto.  No frills today.  Willy on my knee, playing to win!

 

Tom wiping away my tears, holding me tight.  Tom smiling up at his Daddy, seeing a hero.

 

Making a crumpet station and eating the buttery, jammy treats so my keyboard is sticky.  I can’t remember when I last ate?

 

I have my sleep spray.  Tonight I will sleep.  Tomorrow is a new day.  And each moment is a new moment.

 

And I am strong.  I am strong.