“Your true home is in the here and the now.”

A quote emailed through from a subscription I follow.

“You can find your true home in the full relaxation of your mind and body in the present moment.  No one can take it away from you.”

And I do feel so very much at home, right at this very moment.  We are all crowded in our kitchen.

The boys are on the island playing some game on their ipad, laughing at each other and cheering their scores.  Screen time usually limited, but after the incredibly impressive reports that brought me to tears as the post arrived today, I am very chilled out.  I am so incredibly proud of these little boys, growing into young men.  This last year has been fraught with emotion, confusion and an incredible amount of change.  They have really shown what they are made of; courage, bravery, resilience and full of life;  both reports commenting on their enthusiasm and positivity.  Yes.  I cried at their reports for their character descriptions;  you can’t teach character and substance, you just are.

The Big Man has his big baboon butt in the air, drilling holes.  Fitting, what I hope isn’t my Christmas present, a new dishwasher after our inherited one died 2 or 3 weeks ago.  He is home.  He is my home.  My saboteur continues to fight that fact each time I am relaxed enough to feel and recognise it.  But in this moment, in the here and now, I am home.

We are home.  And perhaps we always were.  And despite all the changes and moves, no one has been able to take that away from us.

I am craving sugar like you wouldn’t believe.  I haven’t had this kind of craving for ages.  I have tried everything… sweet vegetables and onions didn’t cut it tonight.  Nor did dark chocolate.

 

I moved on to the hidden bag of celebrations, the posh chocolate in the dining room, the final few tangfastics hidden in the coffee cupboard.  And now I am on ice cream.

 

But nothing is really working.

 

It is strange that I am craving sugar, in a week that I am learning so much about how bad it is for you. A key factor in inflammation which is the bedrock of most disease and a major contributor to obesity.

 

Since doing the 10 day sugar detox in January this year, I have consciously been aware of all the hidden sugar in our daily diets and consciously decided to make better choices.

 

So why the craving?  I am also learning that cravings are often not related to food, but more of an emotion or missing emotion; turning to food to fill an emotional gap or detract from an abundance of uncomfortable feeling.

 

I have been nestled with my 3 little boys (includes the cat) on the sofa, tickling backs and stroking heads.  But one head is missing.  And I could over think it.  But I am pretty sure that’s it.  A deep seated, hidden anxiety when we aren’t together.

 

No amount of sugar will mask that feeling.  But perhaps a peppermint tea will?

 

“Joy doubles your powers.”

 

The words spoken in prayer by the headmaster in the final chapel service of the year.  As I come out of this latest cloud of darkness, I know they are some of the truest words ever spoken.  I feel my ‘super powers’ accelerate when I am happy, when I am doing the things that bring me joy.

 

And I see it in my sons.  They are in a school where they are thriving and excelling, because they are happy. And while they are ready for a well-deserved break and rest, they are already asking to practice their spellings, spend time reading or drawing.  Activities, previously unheard of! Their independence amuses me, amusing themselves, quietly alone or noisily together.  But I am secretly delighted, that they are often very nearby; sprawled on the island top or huddled next to the aga where I tend to spend most of my days.

 

The words remind me that the clouds are lifting;  that as the hustle of grief emotions lessens, as anger loses its hold, frustration weakens and hate pales in favour of love, joy and excitement, I am a few steps closer to forgiveness once more.

 

 

 

I woke up angry again this morning.  Angry like the beautiful red sun that I watched rise in to the crystal clear sky, formidable, aggressive and firey.  I get angry at myself for still getting emotional:  for getting angry, upset, sad.  I feel that I should be ‘over’ everything, I should have moved on, be totally happy in the present.

 

So why did I cry when I lit a candle in the cathedral this morning and thought of my Mum?  She died nearly 2 years ago and left us mentally almost 3 times that.

 

And why did it affect me so much, letting our wedding anniversary pass without comment?  I am in a far better place emotionally, physically, mentally than I was this time last year.  So why am I still feeling like I could cry in anguish at any given moment?

 

Time is a great healer.  They say.  Or it is said.  But does it really heal or does it just make you forget, blur the memories, soften the intensity of the pain?  But are you really healed?

 

I can still make myself cry when I remember how I felt when the consultant told us there was no heart beat and therefore the loss of our first baby on 19^th August 2006.  The shock and surprise so intense it stunned me until the realisation that our family wasn’t going to become 3 and a life-long dream to become a Mummy, floored me.

 

That date haunted me.  Once upon a time, hidden away as a good memory date; the day I got the results I needed to go to the university I had set my heart on.  Now a devastating date and memory…  Being left to cry in a little room, signing paperwork and organising operational timings.  Creeping under a duvet in my mother in law’s house and sobbing, feeling useless, hopeless and not enough, not good enough to nourish our baby.

 

And yet, the date now, over 11 years on is superseded by happier memories.  The day I went into labour with Willy, my big brute of a bouncing baby who took 2 days to arrive because he was so healthy he got stuck!

 

I woke up angry this morning.  Angry like the red sun that rose above the frosty fields, turning them pink.

 

But as the sun sets this afternoon, softer, silvery, quietly sliding behind the dark of the trees, I feel as humble.

 

A date is a date.  An anniversary an anniversary.  And as years pass, those anniversaries can change, for the worse but also for the better.  The Big Man is right.  While I am too angry, feel it too hypocritical to celebrate another year of marriage, we are still married and together.  And I will consider his suggestion that perhaps we need to something to celebrate the date, turn it back in to a happy date.  Just as the arrival of Willy did.

 

Chatting with a dear friend this afternoon as we leant against her aga for warmth and cuddled her baby kittens, I realise how far I have come; we have come.  And that I have so much to be grateful for.

 

So just like the setting sun, I am a softer, silvery version of myself.  And far more humble.

 

 

Today was good for me.

‘Sages, leave your contemplations,

Brighter visions beam afar,

Seek the great Desire of nations,

Ye have seen His natal star.’

Today, was good for me. Being part of a team again, a day full of connections bringing a sense of belonging to my ‘outsider’ badge, stuffing envelopes, tying ribbons, pouring damson liqueurs, offering enormous poinsettias for donations.

Today, was good for me. Trumpets to lift my spirits and raise the roof. Angel choristers and opera professionals swelling my heart and lifting the corners of my smile…

Today, was good for me. A reminder that there is always someone living and breathing a more difficult tragedy.

“Don’t look back, you’re not going that way.”

The words a very dear friend sent me around a year ago.  At the time, I found that a real struggle; torn between what had happened and how to build a future on a foundation that was suddenly completely void.

A year on, we have rebuilt a firm foundation, filling it with a new freshness and a brave boldness and we have paved the way for exciting plans for the remainder of our lives.

And yet today, on what would have been our 12^th wedding anniversary, I quietly grieve behind the scenes of what we had previously created. The only way to rebuild this new life together, for me anyway, has been to discard and sweep away the rubble of a broken first marriage.

This time last year I wrote about a the Japanese proverb that describes how broken objects  are often replaced with gold, turning the flaw into a unique part of the object’s history, only adding to the beauty, reflecting the inner light outwards.  Those words carried me through this last year.

 

Tonight, I reflect on another proverb; A wise man once said nothing.  So tonight, as I warm myself by the aga, I will say nothing, stay still and reflect peacefully at the quiet in my head and the love my heart.  A million miles away that the broken object that I was just a short year ago. My cracks filling and almost filled with gold.

 

In the daily battle of life’s inevitable knock downs, I have realised that the number of blows has made my armour more durable, even if dented and battle scarred and my resilience and strength stronger from repeatedly using the appropriate muscles….

But sometimes, we need added warpaint and disguise.

Another night out. The bravest of fronts often mask a powerful vulnerability. A new tender and trusting love, a fresh happiness fiercely protected from the daggers of judgement. It’s growth too important, my weapons of response a retreat in understanding their lack of it.

I think I might be a little crazy. Or a little mad anyway, to accept going to a party on a school night. And a crazy fun apres ski party in yurts at that!

Not just because I may get carried away… and have far too good a time… (am I allowed to do that?) …. But because our track record in going out to parties, hasn’t actually worked out well so far….

Maybe this time.

Maybe because I am dressed as a hard-nosed, ‘don’t mess with me’, ‘my boyfriend is KGB’ Russian oligarch.

Just call me ‘llia’! I have got this…

(Pretty please?!)

When I sit down to reflect on a day, there is an event I need to write about; or more often than not, it is a common theme, word or trend running through the day or my mind.

 

Today, it was my hashtag; the one I use frequently on my health coaching Instagram feed.  #loveyourself

 

Recently, I have been finding this hard to do. And have hashtagged away through gritted teach, uncomfortably knowing that that is exactly what I need to do.

 

Loving yourself used to be a very strange concept for me; reflecting thoughts of vanity and arrogance.  But my curiosity was aroused and through reading books and listening to thought leaders, my own perception of the topic has changed.  Loving yourself to me now means being ‘in spirit’ with yourself;  living your authentic self by doing what you really enjoy doing, surrounding yourself with people you really enjoy being with and not living a ‘false life’, so that you can actually love yourself for who you are.  You are living ‘in the spirit’ with which you were born, rather than influenced into.

 

When you see someone who is truly living this way, they are inspirational.  They are happy, they are passionate, they are energised.  They are ‘in spirit’.

 

It dawns on me today that I found my #loveyourself hashtag had been sitting uncomfortably with me because I had been ‘out of spirit’ and out of sorts.  I certainly haven’t been inspiring myself or loving myself.

 

But after a good night sleep and reclaiming my morning ritual and ceremony, I found myself reconnecting.

 

I am the first to slide out of bed and the arms of the Big Man;  and I creep into each boys’ room and sit quietly with them, stroke their hair and count my blessings, put my lips to their brows and whisper quietly so they wake up gently, their arms clasping around my neck and pulling me closer.  I connect with them;  I connect with myself and live in those moments, for I know some day soon, they will be too big for morning cuddles with Mummy.

 

While they all rouse, I pad softly to the kitchen where I put on the kettle and set out my intention for the day, run through my top priorities and breathe for a few moments.  And as the kettle whistles, I usually have company and the whirlwind of the day begins.

 

It is in the small rituals and habits we create through the day that we find mindfulness, connection and our true spirit.  And I recognise that perhaps in the last few days, couple of weeks, I may have been performing the traditions, but missing the mindful connection to myself;  overshadowed by tiredness, grief, anger or sadness.

 

But here I am, bouncing back with my super power and loving myself again.