I can’t believe that it is day 365.  #365dayblogchallenge complete.

 

A blog every day for 365 days.  My thoughts and feelings every day for 365 days.

 

At the time I had no idea what kind of year it was going to be or what was going to happen.  No one can see the future.

 

In the end, it was one interesting year…

 

My husband took a job 250 miles away leaving me and our 2 young boys on a Sunday night and returning late on a Friday.   The impact on our marriage and family was intense.

The day I started my public journal, my lovely Mumbo was taken with a police escort to a mental hospital.

My eldest son started a brand new school, where he was hurt – both emotionally and physically.

My Mum got worse.

My youngest son felt left out, alone and unloved.

I felt guilty.  Torn.

My Mum died.

My husband came home, fresh from being and living like a bachelor… to chaos and emotion.

I lost my self esteem, self worth and self love.

I broken down.

And I have built myself back up.

 

The blog has documented my innermost feelings, thoughts, joys and despair; how I have dealt with grief, loss, parenting solo, parenting full stop and how I have continued to find joy and love in my life.

 

For me, it has been a pivotal year.  In being faced with multiple challenges, I have embraced different techniques to survive the rollercoaster of ups and downs, highs and lows and held on tight.

 

I have learnt the importance of gratitude; finding the smallest delight, a chink of light in an otherwise dark and painful day.

 

I have learnt to live in the moment, survive in the moment, to let go of past mistakes, free myself of hurt and to not waste energy on worrying so much about what may happen in the future.  My imagined ‘pain body’ of January and February of this year has shrunk, taking with it the anger, rather than letting the anger and rage destroy me internally.

 

I have worked hard on forgiveness, realising it may not be easy to forgive, but that it is worth it for myself, my sanity and to find inner peace.

 

I have introduced habits of daily breathing or meditation to help find focus and calm and to distance and then distract myself from the raging storm around me.

 

I have learnt that self love, self compassion, self respect and self care is one of the most important foundations to life, so that you can serve others and in turn fill them up with love and respect.

 

I feel very different to the person a year ago, at the table with my friend on that dark wet, miserable September evening; I remember feeling lonely, lost, confused about my future, unhappy and overwhelmed.

 

Today as I sit in my sun drenched office, I feel stronger.

 

I have confidence in my purpose, doing something that gives me pure joy.

I have fallen in love with motherhood.

I am a far cry from the cynical corporate ladder climber of 3 years ago and I have embraced a life where I put my children first, with no apology or guilt about my historic, excellent schooling and previous career credentials.

And I have fallen in love with writing, sharing my noisy thoughts and streams of words flying across the cinema of my mind.

 

So is this the end of blogging?   To continue to blog or not to blog?

 

The blog started with my my Mumbo being put into a home in distress and it has come to an end with my Mumbo being laid to rest.

 

The blog started with me a single parent, a frustrated partner in a disconnected, unhappy family and it is ending with a family happier and unified and a relationship stronger than ever before.

 

The blog started with me not really knowing where I was in my life sandwich – what was Ali?  The filling, the butter, the wrapping?

 

The sandwich will never end, there will always be moving parts, bits falling out, filling being shoved back in, the bottom falling off and the lid being lifted.  There will always be bits you love and the bits you tolerate.

 

I close on the 365^th day knowing I am all of it.

 

I am the Ali Sandwich.

 

 

How you live your life, perceive your life is all about choice.

How you choose to live is your choice.  Happy or sad, abundant or miser, forgiver or blamer, grateful or selfish.

Belief is one of those choices.

 

In my family, there are scientists, atheists, non-believers, Christians and probably many more ‘believers’.  I choose to be spiritual.  I believe in energy flows, the power of the Universe and spirituality.

 

Today, I could have chosen to be a cynic or a believer.

 

I could choose to believe that the softly spoken lady with the sparkly blue eyes had read up on me – it would have been easy.   I am pretty much an open book, particularly with the last year publicised on the web.

 

Or I could choose to believe that there were other energies and spirits in the room with us.

 

As I drove home in the car, I was conflicted with the two thoughts and feelings.  Which one?  Cynic or believer?  Did I believe or didn’t I?  What would I choose to base my belief on?

 

The cynic in me said that she knew I had put roses on my Mum’s grave as she seen my blog / Facebook page and the roses I put there yesterday as we scattered her ashes?

 

The cynic in me said that it wouldn’t have been hard to search through my photos online to see Tom playing rugby and his dreams of being an England Captain.  Apparently he is going to win lots of cups … in rugby!

 

The cynic in me said it wouldn’t be difficult to see that I am interested in ‘creams’ and ‘organic’… and that I work out a lot.

 

All of this was coming through the mind and thoughts of my Mumbo… who apparently had been waiting all day to see me, waiting in the corner, wringing her hands.

 

And so what if I chose to believe?

 

The first thing Mumbo said directly to me, ‘Don’t worry, I have my teeth back – they are fine’.  How did she know that that was the one thing that shocked me so much, couldn’t bear to look at as Mumbo was dying?  ‘And so is my hair!’  The other thing, her greasy, lank hair that always used to be soft and washed.

 

And then a shy gentleman came in, stood behind her.  Told her that he had died suddenly of a cardiac arrest and never got the chance to say goodbye to anyone.  That he always used to wear a cap.  Grandad.   My Grandad Brooks.  A great pal of my Mumbo’s.   He died very suddenly right in front of the doctor.

 

There are lots of people, names and places that were mentioned through the spirits of Mumbo and Grandad.  My dishwasher is going to break, but I will know how to fix it, even when others don’t (they told me).  My visa card is going to get stolen and I am going to go to the ballet.  I have to take time out and have some girlie time with my friend Jenny (which one – I am not sure, they didn’t give surnames) and I need to be wary of Ken.  We are going to move house and my Dad (complete non believer) needs to pay specific attention to his feet and his gums, before it is too late…  other than that, he has a long time to live yet (YAY!).

 

They shared various elements of the future for all my boys, how many grandchildren, what their wives were like and the Big Man – he needs to strike while the iron is hot apparently!

 

So cynic or believer.  It’s just a choice.

 

She could be just a lovely lady giving me comfort, giving me pointers, hope and something to hold on to based on my prolific web profile.

 

She told me that if I ever needed anything, I just needed to ask them… She also said Mumbo would be joining me on the way home in the car.  So as I pondered all this and let it all sink in, I thought I would ask Mumbo a question.

 

‘Should I believe Mumbo?  Were you there?’

 

What do you think was the next song on the radio?

 

Glee and their rendition of ‘Don’t stop believing’.

 

Gave me goosebumps.

 

 

 

‘To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die’…  A lovely inscription I saw on a gravestone today.

 

As was ‘Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it’.

 

My Mumbo would always tell us stories of her Gran.  Her eyes would like up with a twinkle and of fondness, of how she was wonderful to cuddle and how she made you feel like you were her favourite.  She would make Mumbo and her brother and sister sugar sandwiches and let them sleep with toffee apples under their pillows.

 

Her Gran was buried in Hull, alongside her sailor.  A sailor who also pulled Queen Victoria’s gun carriage as the Royal Horse Artillery were unable to pull it along the slippery streets.

 

At the same grave site, over the years my Grandma’s ashes were scattered there as were my Mum’s Aunt and her dog, Judy.

 

It took us a while to find it in the 100’s and 1000’s of aging and new gravestones.  We meandered through the dappled paths in the autumnal heatwave, peaceful as the only visitors there.

 

Mumbo was heavy.  She was in a box the size of a shoebox.  Dense, dull grey ashes, hers and the coffin. They could have been from the grate in our fireplace, with the exception of the certified piece of paper with them declaring them to be Mum.

 

There was not a breath of wind, so she slipped through my fingers and settled softly on the roses I had lain there.   We spoke quietly of memories and laughed for a few moments.

 

And then we meandered back.  Just my Dad and I.  Just ambling and living in the moment.

 

Living in the moment, not really thinking about what had taken place until now.  I still find it so strange as I look at her photo that she isn’t here, on this planet living, just ashes on a pink rose, energy on the wind.

 

‘To live in the hearts we leave behind, is not to die’.

A lovely day with my Dad… 
All the stuff I have been reading in the books, he had learnt through life. 
I quote books. He shares stories.
He is so wise. A wise old man. I love spending relaxed time with him, talking about everything and nothing.
I also love hearing him read the BFG or facts about birds of prey to his Grandsons and then kicking rugby balls with them. 

So it seems quite fitting that for the last few days of the ‘Alisandwiches’ year long project to write and publish a blog each day, that my lovely Dad has come to stay.

What a difference a year makes.  He is so happy and relaxed, content and in love with life… With exciting times and plans for the rest of the year and beyond, to travel, explore and live.

I love that the universe has brought him a new lease of life, happiness and love.  He is hope for everyone who has tough times, who shows endurance, loyalty and patience.

As we enjoy the beautiful Autumnal heatwave, I walk behind him and although he still walks the same as always, with his recognisable tilt to the right, his stiff, skinny legs in boyish blue shorts, to me it seems that the weight of the world has lifted from his shoulders and you can almost see the grin on his face with the lilt of his walk.  And as I yell at him to slow down, there it is… he turns round beaming!

Good old Grandad!  (Just what we used to say to my Grandad – his Dad!)

 

 

 

As I did my first downward dog today in 35degree heat after 4 hours sleep and as the blood rushed to my head, and as I felt lightheaded and queasy, I thought in hindsight perhaps it hadn’t been the best idea.. But as I breathed, and relaxed into the moves, went with the yogic flow, I began to feel better. And after 60 minutes, wet with sweat, I found I could sit crossed legged for the first time in moons and my shoulders and neck felt soft after turning to rocks after my 40k bike ride yesterday.
Hot yoga. Something I had tried and started the same time this time last year… But then events unfolded and coordinating classes, commutes and cross country trips to see Mumbo was just one too many commitment to manage. 
Some serious hydration, a shower and then it was a nice surprise to remember we had booked tickets 8 months ago to see Cirque du Soleil. 
Wow. That’s all I can say. 
Hot yoga and then being totally mesmerised by tumbling, flying, balancing and nuts pole climbing… Brilliant way to recover from the night before. 

So the conversation in the car this morning on the way to school was an interesting one!

 

Willy pipes up, ‘Dreams don’t come true.’  A profound statement by the little boy who also says ‘There’s no such thing as trying.  Just do it!’.

 

I asked why he thought that.  ‘Well Mummy, I have been dreaming about having 5000 pokemon cards and in all my life, I haven’t got them.

 

Tom then says, ‘Pokemon aren’t dreams.  You just buy them’.

 

Similar topics came up in my book today.  I am back in my Tony Robbins phase.  I am awakening my giant!

 

Today he talked about the Niagara Effect.  Never heard of it before, but I love the analogy.  Everyone has a dream of what they want their life to be like, how they want to live and how they want to be.

 

You can’t wish your dreams to happen.  You actually have to add the magic ingredient – action; and sometimes some blood, sweat and tears to it.

 

And this is where the Niagara Effect comes in.  As Tony says – people jump in.. but then they are effected (or is it affected? The only grammar or spelling I struggle with!) and influenced by currents of the river, such as current affairs, economics, life issues, and rather than taking action or making committed decisions at forks in the stream,  they end up ‘going with the flow’ until one day they end up on the edge of a precipice.

 

The Niagara effect…  what do you do?  His advice is to do one of two things;  either get out your oars and start paddling really hard and change your course direction.  Or learn from it and start planning ahead in the future by having a plan and making decisive action at each fork.  Rather than go with that flow, take control and paddle in your decided direction.

 

And I would add here, be flexible in your approach, especially if you encounter obstacles. If you lose an oar, get creative or ask for help.  If you get stuck on a rock, jump out and swim.  If someone asks you to join them on a speed boat heading in your direction, take it.  If people laugh at you for taking a different fork in the river to them, put your blinkers on… you are chasing your dream, not theirs.

 

So back to my boys.  At the beginning of the school year, last year, as part of the children introducing themselves to new classmates, they all drew selfies, described themselves and shared what they wanted to be.

 

Tom drew a picture of himself and said ‘My hair is as crazy as a lions hair and it is light yellow.  I want to be the best captain ever on the England Rugby team’.

 

That’s his dream and his idol is Owen Farrell.  So he plays rugby most evenings, throwing, kicking and catching.  His favourite holiday camp is rugby.  And today, the school posted a gorgeous photo of him, looking like a young version of a future sporting hero. 

I made a new friend today.  A mutual friend recommended we meet and we found we had a lot in common, sons called William, born in the south, moved north, healthy interest in health, in the education of the young and less fortunate, short brown hair – 60 minutes flew by.  I love that.  I love meeting new people who you can connect with.

 

This evening, as I lie supine, with a supine dog on my feet, I can see the clear blue sky above me and I feel so heavy with peace.

 

My days are beginning to look and feel and sound like the passage I wrote at the beginning of the summer when I wrote my ideal day, the day I would like all days to be like.  I still read it at least once a day and it just feels as though some of it is already true… When I wrote it, I wrote it in a state of absolute faith and certainty that it would happen.  Maybe that was the key (or the wine I had had before writing it?).

 

I have done the exercise before – the writing of the vision of the future.  But maybe that was where I went wrong, I didn’t believe or have faith it would manifest (or I hadn’t had rose to put me in to that relaxed, open state).  At least I tried again!

 

It reminds me of the definition of ‘to fail’:  To not achieve.  Or FAIL.  First Attempt In Learning.

 

I am so glad I applied the latter.  To fail is only to give up or not try again.

 

And as I write this, I would add to fail is also to not learn from an experience…

 

I had an itchy eye… so I rubbed it with fingers that have just chopped up chilli!  FAIL or fail?  Why did I rub it again?!!!!  I didn’t need to rub it again to see if it would still sting… so that was a ‘failure’ in learning; I didn’t pay attention to the lesson in the experience.

 

I wonder what the cure for ‘chilli eye’ is.  Maybe I will just shut them and continue to feel the heavy peace…

 

 

 

 

 

So I have resorted back to lists.  Maybe it was the ‘summer of no lists’..

 

However, this ‘no list’ period did teach me a lesson. A lesson to not procrastinate, just get stuff done when it comes in to my head. It taught me to prioritise the things that need to get done first and then focus on everything else after.  Just like Pareto’s law of the 80/20 rule, or Gary Keller’s ‘the One Thing’… or as I read today, John C. Maxwell’s ‘Planned Neglect’.

 

I liked that!  Plan to neglect the things that really don’t matter and focus on what will deliver the biggest result.  He used the example of a well known violinist who said that what made her so good was prioritising practice and the decision to flip her morning routine; she ‘planned to neglect’ tidying her room, making her bed and homework in favour of practicing her violin first.

 

So lists are back in my life; but I am doing what needs to be done first to achieve my goals, rather than sorting out the house, tidying, washing, ironing, cleaning, cooking… they will get done.  But second.  Quite exciting really…

 

It’s been on my ‘to do list’ for ages to learn how to breathe.  Kundalini breathe.  Dad left me an article last time I went to visit on the importance of breathing and how this type of special breathing can promote such good well being that it has had favourable results in prevention of Alzheimer’s, amongst other things.  So given my maternal family history and genetics, this has been moved to the top of my list to learn and then practice, daily.  And I need to practice; to master the art of deep abdominal and breathing from the diaphragm in and out of the nose without spraying the contents of my nostrils everywhere.

 

We also did a heart to heart meditation.  Just for a few minutes.  Both of us having had heartbreak throughout the last year or few.  It was very peaceful with our breathe finding synchronicity and the warmth of our feelings and emotions flowing through our arms, finger tips and palms.

 

And then, it was time to get back to it.  Appointments and lists.

 

And my boys.

 

Willy loving being in his new class, confident with his friends in the playground, no longer shy or clinging to me.

 

And always my Tom Tom.  The little boy who is starting to look like a little man.  Leaving the house grown up with his tie and blazer, smart shirt and shoes.  The little man, who returns to being a little boy at the end of the day, blazer in a ball, tie all scrumpled, shirt untucked with mud on the back, laces undone, kicking a ball against the wall.