It is clear from today, having not had many moments alone, that could be my problem.  The alone time.  The time to overthink.  The time to hesitate, hyper-critique myself in to hiding and feeling helpless.  The exact 4 H’s Mel Robbins refers to as the keys to understanding self-doubt.

 

So today, I have felt good.  Alive.  Out of my Fly Trap.  Free.

 

A day joined at the hip with the Big Man, giggling on a spin bike like kids, enjoying a jovial lunch with friends and then a house full of little boys and grandparents eating steaks and chips.  I am content.  Self-doubt slipping out of that egg timer.

 

Tomorrow I know will be the same again; surrounded yet liberated from my noisy mind.

 

I will do well on Monday to remind myself of this; and if I feel that sand slow or the egg timer do a mid-flow flip, refer back to Mel Robbins and her 54321 key to unlocking self-belief and confidence by continuing to take those small steps forward.

 

 

 

It feels good.   It was the right decision.  Going dark and removing all links to social media, deleting the apps from my phone.  Likes, follows, loves, shares were never what I was looking for;  just to share experiences of life – the ups and downs, the joys and the grief so that perhaps others didn’t feel so alone in their sadness or inspired to share their triumphs.

 

It is a strange thing, grief; grief from trauma especially.

 

I will never lose the sadness of losing my Mumbo to Alzheimers, too young for her to go and miss the enjoyment of the one thing she was looking forward to in old age – grandchildren.  But in some ways, her death was expected.  She was always going to pass away at some point.  And while the disease was tragic and horrific, the final death was a release and a relief, even if sudden.  Now, nearly two years on, I find it easier to look back on the happier times and memories, rather than see the gauntness, toothless, noisy deathbed.  And when I see reminders of her – Kingfishers or lillies, robins or roses, or hear her favourite songs on the radio, smell her perfume on someone else… I smile and know she is near.

 

Grief from something unexpected, is entirely different.  I remember the Venus Fly Traps on our windowsills at home, to catch the clueless flies as they naively fly past or rest.  That is how the grief of the loss of my first marriage, my first real true love captures me.  A year on, the desolate, debilitating and overwhelming constant myriad of feelings have passed over.  A storm can’t rage forever.  But over the last few days as I had been busying myself with life, the Venus Fly Trap of grief leapt up and grabbed me.

 

Just like the trauma itself, it is sudden.  It catches you completely unaware.  Plunged into darkness, I have learnt to use my tools in order find life, light, peace and joy again.

 

It takes a while for the Venus Fly Trap to open up.  But in some ways, I am grateful for the darkness, to go through the process of searching within, connection with myself and others.

 

I had been plummeting in to negativity;  perhaps the nerves of waiting for my results made me doubt myself and brought back all those memories of not being good enough, feeling worthless – no good as a mother, an unlikeable, unlovable person, friendless, husband-less, failing, old, lumpy and wrinkly body, ugly useless piece of shit… and with each negative thought bead, the next self doubt bead followed.  And the overthinking loop became a habit.  And like the sand in the egg timer, all the confidence drains away and only insecurity fills the void.

 

But.  But.  BUT.  IF there is a problem that can be solved with action, it isn’t a problem.  Great quote from someone – can’t remember who.

 

And an egg timer can be turned on its head and the sand can be perceived as self doubt being drained away and confidence and all its companions come spilling back.

 

And after a while of appreciating the dark, feeling the delicious, tantalising, excruciating sting of pain, when I can bear it no longer, I find the strength to take that action and flip it.

 

 

 

 

 

My head is so noisy it feels like it is going to explode.  My insecurity crescendos.

 

And I need to write.  But for some reason, I can’t.  And I always said to myself that if I felt that I couldn’t write authentically, became more concerned of the reactions and judgements of others, I would stop being so public.

 

And while I would like to think that people are non-judgemental, I can feel the walls of whispers around me in old circles and new ones.  Or perhaps that is all in my head too?

 

While I like to think the suffering has become less, the pain at times still feels as raw as it did a year ago.  And to deal with it all, I need my project of a daily blog go dark.  And in that darkness, I know I will find the sparks of light again.

 

Interesting.  So interesting.  With a week off from my course, due to Thanksgiving, I am reminded of something else Marianne said yesterday:

“If you fill your house with light, darkness can’t come in.”

Learning, experimenting with the information I am given, focussing on assignments, living my purpose and passion on a daily basis, giving me a focus, fills me up with light.

And this week, I have found myself sinking into shadow and the darkness knocking on my door.  My feelings or lack of feeling of self worth plummeting, in all areas of my life when I find myself on my own.

I reminded myself that during the times when I feel a lack of self worth, i need to practice self compassion.  So on a morning when I had all good intentions to carry out my usual Wednesday morning off chores, I had to hide under the duvet to ignore the darkness and breathe through a battle between my head and heart before I went in search of light;  my boys.  Always my boys.  And especially on the sidelines watching them shine their own light.

Marianne Williamson was in my car today.   And on my dog walk.

 

I loved what she had to say… I always do.

 

And now that my ‘happiness’ has returned, no longer in search for it, inside and out and with joy pretty much omnipresent (or safe in the knowledge I know how I can find her when she hides in the shadow), peace is now the quest.  Peace in my mind, in my heart, to go hand in hand with joy so that I can face any drama or upset coming my way with dignity and grace.

 

And Marianne is probably one of the greatest teachers and thought leaders on peace.

 

She was asked a question on ambition and I loved her response.Something along the lines of…

 

“Nature is ambitious.  It wants everything to become its highest form of possibility….  Does the embryo have to be ambitious to become a baby?   Does it continually say to itself, I will be a baby, I will be a baby?  A rosebud doesn’t have to keep telling itself it is going to blossom into blooms.    Just like the acorn doesn’t have to strategise about becoming an oak.”

 

They all know.  They just surrender to the knowing and let nature and the power of energy work its magic.

 

It kind of calls me out on my affirmations and goals and plans.  Doesn’t it?  On the other hand, I think I have always known what I wanted to be, but been influenced or coerced or felt that I didn’t want to disappoint.  So maybe I need to set those intentions to bring me back to what I know to be true in my heart, to stop the conflict and the struggle and help me find peace?

 

And while they know, the embryo, the rosebud and the acorn, they know what they are and will be, but they don’t just sit there waiting for the magic, expecting the universal energy to provide… they work with it.   They do what they need to do in every moment, happy and peaceful in the knowledge that they will become the most magnificent version of themselves.  It’s in those moments, that they take the warmth from the sun, they nourish and fuel themselves with the nutrients at hand and they focus on growth, in that moment, growing to the next stage.

 

So when I become overwhelmed with my goals, ambitions and intentions, I bring myself back to me. To the now.  Taking the warmth I need from my family, my good friends, the sun, I nourish my soul with compassion, I fuel my body with good food and I grow through learning.  I keep growing to the next level, the next step up, just a little stretch further.

 

And just like the embryo, the acorn, the rosebud, I will peacefully and magically flourish in to the version of me that nature intended.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I was warming the pan of almond milk for our turmeric latte (something I thought I would never write!), I wondered how quickly it had become time to consider Christmas.  The years seem to go by quicker… but here we are again.  Strictly down to the last eight couples, the lists are being written, and swopped with siblings.  And a day buying the one smart (ish) Christmas outfit for the boys who live in trackies and tees.

It looks like there are only 4 more Monday’s until Christmas Monday… !

A Sunday, just as it should be.

Lie ins, 4 in a bed.

Dog walks, chasing rugby ball grubbers.

Soup, salads and toasties.

A long afternoon, all working in the garden.

One on a tractor, one behind a mower, one with shears, one with loopers, everyone chasing the barrow.

Late autumn roses, their smell fragrant.

A reward for their contribution, time at the skatepark.

A Sunday roast beef, all the trimmings.

Creme brûlée and Strictly.

Kisses. Cuddles. I love yous.

Just as it should be.

Ah… date night.

After nearly 2 decades, a year ago we started dating from scratch. 2 strangers getting to know each other again. 2 strangers sharing their passions and their future dreams. 2 strangers sharing their vulnerabilities, their fears, their regrets.

They started where they were.

They started with what they had.

They kept talking.

They kept dating.

When one fell, the other held them up.

On date one, there were nerves and Adrenalin. A year on, in the candlelight, holding hands, there was peace, respect and togetherness.

On the back of my blog post last night, a beautiful friend sent me some beautiful words.  And those words danced a jig around another set of words that drew me in as I read the opening to Oprah’s new book.

 

What can I say… I am a sucker for words….

 

The first, the beautiful words from my beautiful friend, “A happy life is just a string of happy moments. But most people don’t allow the happy moment, because they’re so busy trying to get a happy life.”

 

And the others from another beautiful soul, Oprah “No one has been through what you have been through, not in the way that you’ve experienced it.  And yet, all pain is the same.”

 

Today, as it always seems to flow,  the moment I feel great comfort and happiness, pain is triggered.

 

But there is always choice.  And while sometimes choices and decisions are elusive thanks to emotional turmoil, I am out of the storm.  So I can choose.

 

I chose rather than to focus on the pain of the flash backs of ugly, trashy images triggered by a date, I chose to see and live in the string of happy moments.

 

Starting from the moment Tom snuck in to bed, pushed away the Big Man and curled around me, reminding me it was Exeat morning.  To the intense moments of togetherness, openness, honesty and true closeness on multiple levels as I shared my pain with the Big Man.

 

And all the moments in between!  The boys playing rugby in the garden;  cardio tennis and hitting clean shots low over the net;  sitting with an incredible woman and such close friend, coaching her and myself through this stage in our life;  being excited by the words I am writing on a page as I dream up new courses for women returning to work, even more excited by those courses for women decided on leaving a corporate world; choosing advent calendars and realising the countdown to my favourite time of year is on;  looking at the plans of the house and moving walls by pencil lines…..taking a sip of wine, closing down this blog to go and join my family for movie and popcorn night in the den.

 

This evening, as has become customary the night before a ‘no school day’, we all lay draped across each other on the sofa, watch Blue Planet and one by one fall asleep.

I am so happy and content. That feels so wonderful to write…. it feels like the storm is over and the life test complete, learnt from and passed.