On healing wounds...

I hate wounds. I hate having to deal with my own shit. It feels so hard. To delve deep into what is really behind your dissatisfaction, your anger, your sadness, your frustration. Right now, I am currently dealing with two sides of the same thing: the need for space and the need for people. Both co-exist in me and yet fight within me. It is doing my head in.

With three small kids aged 6 and under constantly needing me to wipe their bums, look at their latest cartwheel, listen to their reading, help them make a paper aeroplane, assist them in learning to tie a shoe lace, watch them cycle with one hand, witness their first drawing, I am constantly in demand. And usually all three want me at the same time. The minute I decide I will try to be 'present' and spend some quality time with one of them, the others start fighting or disturbing the 'chosen one' so that it all ends in fighting and me screaming.

So I crave time to myself. Peace. Quiet. A breath. In and out. Shoulders dropping. Chest opening. A time when I am no longer 'responsible' for someone else, for their safety, their behaviour, the person they might become if I let them continue in this vein without punishment or correction. Why? Because to try and be in control of all of these balls (not to mention the housework, the provision of healthy, home-cooked meals, my own career path, my businesses and self-care) = OVERWHELM. Sometimes I can cope and feel very grateful for my life and my beautiful, healthy children and sometimes I feel I have made one huge mistake: that I am not cut out to be a mother. It was all a big mistake. I should just quit whilst I am 'ahead' and confess I am actually really bad at all of this.

But on the rare occasions when I do get the time to myself, I crave being with my kids, their exuberance, their life force because I get panicked by the very silence that I craved. The endless time stretching out ahead of me. It's almost as though I am so unused to it that when it is there, I no longer know how to be in it. So I swing from one extreme to another: desperate for time alone, and then rudderless and scared when I have it.

I know that these are both a need for me to find the comfort I need from within. But it just feels so hard. I can't do it right now. I can't yet be the person who both notices the pattern and soothes the inner child who is panicked. For now, it will have to do just to notice it. To watch as I fall into the familiar pattern of self-criticism, berating myself for wanting not to have kids, wishing I was one of those single people that could do whatever they want whenever they want; observing as I fill my time with needless, small tasks when I finally do have time to myself, desperate to fill the void that suddenly feels too huge for me to occupy.

So for now, I am just going to sit with this feeling of being shit. I don't like it. But I don't yet have the strength or wisdom to heal this wound. Instead I opted for quite a lot of white wine, pasta and lashings of garlic (no idea why but garlic seems to provides bottomless comfort) followed by one (OK, two) chocolate brownies and some more chocolate on top of that. Plus a good cry and a soul session with my ever-committed partner. And that is ok. Because healing takes time. And you can't force it. And if any of you are struggling right now, I am here with you - feeling the pain to release it. After all, if you notice your pattern, then that means you are more than half way to letting it go. It's not great to admit defeat but it's all I can do. And that's ok. Here's to being in spiritual limbo.....

Art by Christian Schloe

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Jabs, jabs and yet more jabs...

One of the downsides of long-haul, foreign travel is vaccinations. To "cover" ourselves in just four of our destinations - India, Myanmar, Laos and Bali - we need jabs against at least 7 different fevers, diseases and infections. These include Japanese Encephalitis, Hepatitis A, Hepatitis B, Rabies, BCG and Typhoid not to mention twice-daily, anti-malaria tablets to offer protection in those areas of our itinerary where the mosquito has already developed immunity to the weekly dose. Then there are the further precautions that fall to the responsible individual: the exotically named 'jungle formula', anti-tic and insect sprays; the re-hydration sachets to mitigate the effects of the ubiquitous traveller's diarrhoea; the sterile kit containing 'hygienic' needles, canulas and scalpels (?) which you hope to God you will never be in a position to require using; the long-sleeved clothing and sleeping nets to guard against yet more mosquitoes that could be vectors for dengue fever (which has no vaccine as yet and whose 'critical phase, while rare, occurs relatively more commonly in children'. Excellent).

It goes without saying that we are hugely privileged in the West to be able to vaccinate ourselves against potential medical dangers that are an everyday occurrence for those that live amongst them. Researching potential complications associated with any of the list above does not make for happy reading and I actually feel pretty guilty about having a choice in the matter. We are even more fortunate that we can afford to exercise our choice (our private medical bill for the four of us so far is £1,534 and counting). But persuading three kids of this fact before their fifth visit to the travel clinic in two months is not straightforward. Luckily it helps that our nurse is brilliant with kids, has about ten different kinds of coloured plasters to choose from, a room full of child-friendly distractions: bubble blowers, puzzles, crayons and books and that she goes out especially before each appointment to buy them some sort of treat to eat afterwards (note box of mini chocolate chip muffins being guarded closely below).

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On practising 'presence'...

Most spiritual books and gurus, tell us that we need to focus more on the NOW. To get out of our minds and the potential worries and anxieties it can so easily fabricate about the future (which usually never materialise anyway), and to not spend too long dwelling in the past unless it is "to feel to release" a particular energy that has become stuck in an uncomfortable episode. I have three kids under 6 - all born within three and a half years - so I unwillingly spend a lot of my time in the NOW. Mainly dealing with their requests, hunger, arguments, laundry, spillages, punch-ups, breakages, bum-wiping or generally trying not to lose one whilst out and about. I don't love spending my time doing this. I am not a 'natural' caregiver. Frustration levels start very low at the beginning of the day but quickly mount with each new request as my own needs (mainly just for silence for one minute) get more and more ignored.

I don't intend to bank every frustration and let it all mount until I explode, offloading it disproportionately onto one of them and I definitely try to remember that they are just 'being kids' and to allow them that precious freedom to do 'silly' things even though that might mean a ton more washing / chores for me. Nevertheless it is very hard not to see the day through ever-darkening, brown-tinted glasses, especially during the school holidays, when you are on constant, almost 24 hour call with little to no respite.

So it came as a welcome distraction this morning to read an email from Christine Kane on how to nurture your inner creativity. One of the suggestions was to write a Love List. This resonated with me much more than a Gratitude Journal because it seemed so much more immediate. It is great to tap into your gratitude on a regular basis - and it is something we do as a family from time to time which is very sweet (mostly the kids are grateful for their soft toys) but I usually end up feeling like I need to be grateful for big, general things like my health, a roof over my head, food on the table etc and it doesn't always feel very PERSONAL. In fact, I hate to admit it, but it almost becomes just another 'chore'. A Love List however - now that felt different. A list of all the things that bring you happiness? Yes please! So I immediately tried it out starting with the things that had inspired joy in me that morning. And guess what? There were quite a few. That I had forgotten. Or at least buried under the poor-me-I'm-such-a-victim-for-having-to-deal-with-continuous-crap-stuff. And writing them out made me feel happy, NOW. Rather than frustrated, NOW. It allowed me to switch the brown-tinted glasses for rose-tinted ones even if only just for a moment (kids weren't around : )...)

So today's post is about seeing if you too can switch glasses. If only for today. And see how it makes you feel. And if it feels good, try it again! After all, like so many things that are good for you, it takes practise to implement on a regular basis. But if it helps you stay in the NOW and that NOW becomes HAPPY, then what's not to like?!

Here are my two lists side-by-side....

Former brown-tinted, frustration bank input (before noon): - 2 year old insisting (read 'tantrum') on filling own cereal bowl to the very brim despite warnings that whatever went in would need to be eaten by him. He didn't. I shouted (8.15am?). He did. Under duress. - 2 and 4 year old trying to 'tickle' my feet whilst I attempt to do some pilates exercises - 2, 4 and 6 year old not wearing shoes outside despite previous threats that no-one would ever be allowed out ever again if they come back in with black-soled, mud-encrusted (usually formerly white) socks on that then need hand-, pre-washing and soaking before the laundry - 2 and 4 year old then putting shoes on outside (with new socks) and KEEPING them on inside thereby leaving a sticky, wed, mud trail from the back door all the way to the bathroom on the beige (rented) carpet - being told by watch repairer that my "luxury brand" watch (that 6 year old borrowed and trod on) is not repairable and must be returned to manufacturer (by hand, in London) which will cost at least a couple of hundred of pounds. - 2, 4 and 6 year old covering the trampoline with water from buckets and thereby soaking themselves and their clothes in water and mud - 2 and 4 year old then 'washing' their feet in the bathroom sink whilst covering themselves in thick layers of liquid soap

Current, rose-tinted, Love List input (before noon): - watching 2 and 4 year olds break into spontaneous dancing and laughter to a busker in the middle of the high street - seeing the 2, 4 and 6 year old delight in the selection of library books on a stand near the parking permit queue (7 people long = over half an hour wait) and taking themselves off to read them - observing passerby's faces lighting up with joy as the 2 year old greeted and waved at most of the people he walked past with a huge grin - the children's delight at their 2 minute interaction with the postman and their pride in pointing him out to me as their 'new friend'.

So, the last list wasn't quite as long but the effect it had on me was much longer lasting. I even started to smile as I re-wrote it. So thank you, Christine Kane for the inspiration. I am going to try and do this every evening and maybe get the kids to do it too. A new family ritual : )

ADDENDUM: rose tinted glasses lasted until 7.45. Then fell off spectacularly and smashed on the floor. So I tried. I'm a human mother not a robot one. Tomorrow is another (relentless, no school) day. And I will try to get through with a second page of my Love List....

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Why authenticity is the antidote to depression...

I came across this great article recently and wanted to share its hugely important message: http://upliftconnect.com/antidote-for-depression

For there is no greater pointer to a life being lived inauthentically than feeling depressed. I too suffered for a period of time when life was unbearable, a big black sink hole. And when I reflect back, it was a time when most of my surroundings: people, possessions and places were not in alignment with me - the real me that I was suppressing in order to try to fit in. Once I realised this and broke free, things radically improved. It therefore served as one of the major turning points in my life. A wound that became a transformational blessing.

Depression is not to be dismissed lightly but at the same time, it is merely a by-product of our superficial, disconnected times. The more we can channel our warrior and "soothe" ourselves past our fears about becoming the real version of ourselves despite the consequences, the more we can move towards a fulfilled, self sufficient, happier and connected life.

(PS the word "soothe" is in inverted commas because it is so alien to me that I have to distance myself from it by using punctuation marks. To find a way to be "soothing" has therefore become my particular challenge for the day - to get that tapping into your inner warrior can also be a form of self-care not just self punishment. The old me just pushed her way through fears by closing her eyes, clenching her fists and turning numb in case the consequences hurt too much - if you can't feel, nothing can hurt. So in line with this article, my next step is to allow the softer, more tender part of me to emerge. The bit that doesn't hold a shield. I am weary of pushing. Time for some surrender.)

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On acceptance...

Today was my younger daughter’s Nativity play. This is her first year at school and she turned four only the week before term started so she is still little. Only the first two years of the school perform a nativity play and it is considered one of the highlights of the calendar. Not for her. And as a result, not for me. Whilst very gregarious at any other time, when told to “perform”, she freezes. Not just out of shyness (her explanation) but also I think because of the sheer weight of expectation being placed on her little shoulders. Since performances began at nursery – concerts, singalongs, plays – we have been the only parents waving and giving the thumbs up encouraging her to join in, grinning demonically in order to get her to copy but to no avail. We are greeted with a sulky bottom lip, a glare and a frown. Other parents usually think it is funny. Not me. So to avoid this today, I thought I would entice her with the idea of a meal out – a treat to celebrate her saying her one line out loud and joining in with the others. I thought I’d nailed it – she was excited about the two theoretical balls of strawberry ice cream that would materialise for pudding. But no. Sadly, today was no exception. I will add the photos of one silent, sulking angel surrounded by a host of beatific ones to the family album.

At first I felt angry. That this should have happened, again, despite my incentive. I’d failed. And I also felt embarrassed. Why my child when all the others seemed to be in their element on stage, giggling and showing off for their proud parents? But then I realised my reaction was far more about my awkwardness than about her: I was ashamed that my child had stood out for the wrong reasons; I was resentful that my proud parent moment had been snatched. So I channelled my inner empath and put on a “I’m so proud of you” face. After all, parenting is no different to most other walks of life: you fake it until you feel it. She was happy and so was I.

When I got home, I read the latest email sent from Bethany Webster on Welcoming the Divine Child Within You. Serendipidously (of course), the very first paragraph struck a chord: “There is power and nourishment in simply being and resting. This is what healthy bonding looks like between a mom and her child: to be welcomed, to be cherished not for what we do and what we produce, but by fully being who we are, in all our complexity... Often the most powerful need of all is to have your existence seen as good; to be welcomed and honoured as you are.” It resonated so deeply because it revealed that I had just felt the opposite: by being angry at my daughter for not fitting in, I was telling her it was not ok to be who she is. I was offering only conditional love: for what I wanted her to do instead of cherishing her for who she was. I felt very humbled.

This lesson can of course be applied to us all: there are parts to each of us that either we or others feel do not conform. To the current demands of our society, our culture, our upbringing or to our own impossibly high standards. But these parts need to be loved equally along with those that do fit in, not judged and pushed out. If we can accept ourselves and others IN ALL OUR COMPLEXITY we allow ourselves the freedom to flourish. From that, flows the energy and happiness that comes from being truly authentic. That may not create the perfect school nativity cast but it will allow for a magnificent diversity of thriving personalities.

As for my daughter, her next challenge (and therefore mine) will be class assembly, performed in front of the whole school and parents. I have decided that I will let go of any expectations: I will be in the background smiling whether she delivers or not; accepting her for whoever she decides to be on that day. And in the meantime, I’m off to organise those two balls of strawberry ice cream....

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