Just a quick update - I went to the physiotherapist on Thursday, and was given crutches. They're helpful for walking, but they do make me feel pretty disabled in all other ways - I can't carry things or even get in and out of a car without a great fuss! Still, it never harms to gain an understanding of other people, and I feel very lucky that (as far as I know) this is only a temporary blip in my life.
However, there was a surprise for me - the physio found the results of my scan. And although I had 'a classic meniscal tear', in fact there wasn't one in evidence. What they think they've found is a broken bone in my knee! This would explain why it 'feels like a broken leg' as I remarked to the doctor through gritted teeth and sobs a few weeks ago. To be fair to him, nothing in my history would have made him suspect that I really had broken it. It's a but of a mystery, but one that hopefully the orthopaedic specialist will solve in the New Year.
The effect on me has been to make me feel quite brave! Although rationally I know that a lot of injuries are just as, if not MORE, painful than a broken bone, I feel Brave. I was worrying that I was being a bit of a wimp instead of just getting on with it... but now I knwo I've been in legitimate pain, it somehow feels better!
I did ask if I'd done any damage by walking on it and he said no (good to keep the joint moving) BUT the crutches are to help take weight off the leg - so a bit of a mixed message there... anyway I should know more quite soon. The pain is bearable at the moment. And it may well be a matter of just waiting for it to heal anyway, so I can do that right now!
What an interesting year it's turning out to be! I don't think I could have foreseen this...
I hope all your plans for Christmas are going well , and that the snow isn't disrupting any travel plans. We have hardly had any snow, despite being in the North(ish). For once, I don't mind - crutches don't come with snowchains!
Sunday 20 December 2009
Wednesday 16 December 2009
Decluttering - things and people?
I was driving along today thinking, "I must update my blog!" and got home to an email from my elder daughter saying the same thing - so here I am.
The knee is still sore; I'm still off work. I was due to have 'Emergency Physio' last week but the physiotherapist had [?Swine?] flu, so that's been put back till tomorrow. Last week my knee gave an almighty CRACK! like a tree falling, and I had a few days almost free from pain. The specialist thinks I have a torn meniscus, which would be consistent with things moving around in there... anyway yesterday I had a smaller series of snaps and cracks, and today it's hurting again - although nothing like it was (I was crying with pain at every step for a few weeks). I had a scan last week and see the specialist in January, no private healthcare for me! It's bearable and has meant instead of stopping to smell the roses, as I usually do, I have had time to watch them growing as I hobble along.
It's been very interesting in terms of my avowed intent to enjoy this year - I HAVE enjoyed it so far. Not the pain, of course, but the sense of my identity not depending on being in work. I have enjoyed (possibly too much!) having the time to sit in cafes, talk to random strangers, and write notes and poetry. I have always been certain that retirement would hold no terror for me. I have a very active inner life; I'm a good friend of mine and relish my own company, as well as having the time to interact with other people.
Which is just as well, because there has been Momentous and Wonderful News this last month! My younger daughter is leaving home to work in France as an Au Pair. She goes in January. It is so exciting - for many years her health wouldn't allow her to do anything, not even paid work. Then she gradually worked her way into a 40-hour week in a shop, has just got an NVQ2 in Retail, and has a great track-record with a well-known company.
However, she has always been aware of having missed out on some of life's adventures due to her health. She had major surgery in January which has dealt with almost all the problems she had been having, and it suddenly dawned on her that now she is free to go and live life a little. She and her sister went to French school when we lived on the Cote d'Azur, and she has decided to spend some time brushing up her French. Her love of children (she's going to a family with three) made au pairing the natural option. She may well end up, as her sister did, leaving the au pairing but staying in the country - only time will tell.
As for me - well, I have never lived alone and so this is exciting for me too! I think it's high time. It's a wonderful feeling when you successfully launch the chicks from the nest. I shall miss her like crazy but I shall be in close touch via Facebook, emails etc and it's not all that far away (the family have invited me to visit, and I intend to as soon as my leg is fixed).
I regard this as another positive about this year - time to be alone with myself and meditate, pray and write. It feels good... and who knows what will happen once she's gone? I can't see the story ending with exciting adventures for my daughters, and none for me! I have been a little concerned by a few people I know saying things like, "Oooh this will be so hard for you! Will you cope alone?" I know they mean to be supportive but it has really led me to question how I come across. Do I seem that helpless? Or are they projecting? Either way, I need to think about it. Even loving friends can be toxic unintentionally. I need to decide whether to call them on it or simply let them go quietly. I don't want or need negative people around me - years ago I would have dismissed that as really harsh, but the great thing about '50' looming is that it really does make me think about the patterns I'm setting for the NEXT fifty years. I appreciate their concern but I don't appreciate them assuming I can't cope alone.
Recently I felt the urge to begin to clear out some of the larger clutter in my home. I had a disgusting old three-piece suite which was far too big for the room. That's gone, and has been replaced by something more modest. My piano had been sitting unused for a long time. I used to be a keen pianist - in fact I counted the piano as my best friend when I was a teenager(!) - but in recent years I haven't really played at all. It struck me that the piano was a reminder of the past and in some ways a symbol of my failure to keep it up. It suddenly felt like the right time to let go of it, and interestingly, I've given it to someone for whom the piano is also a symbol of her past, but in her case, a past she wants to revisit.
This is the point, for me - I'm never going to be the finished product. I'm always going to be a work in progress - and unless I let go of some things, others can't take their place. It was strange how as soon as I got rid of the piano, my daughter seemed to get some internal 'go ahead' to quit her job and go to France. I've always felt I should hold things lightly - giving the piano away was hugely symbolic for me.
So - aching leg apart - I am STILL excited about this year. It's been very different from what I was expecting, but I know in my bones that it's going to end on a really positive note.
The knee is still sore; I'm still off work. I was due to have 'Emergency Physio' last week but the physiotherapist had [?Swine?] flu, so that's been put back till tomorrow. Last week my knee gave an almighty CRACK! like a tree falling, and I had a few days almost free from pain. The specialist thinks I have a torn meniscus, which would be consistent with things moving around in there... anyway yesterday I had a smaller series of snaps and cracks, and today it's hurting again - although nothing like it was (I was crying with pain at every step for a few weeks). I had a scan last week and see the specialist in January, no private healthcare for me! It's bearable and has meant instead of stopping to smell the roses, as I usually do, I have had time to watch them growing as I hobble along.
It's been very interesting in terms of my avowed intent to enjoy this year - I HAVE enjoyed it so far. Not the pain, of course, but the sense of my identity not depending on being in work. I have enjoyed (possibly too much!) having the time to sit in cafes, talk to random strangers, and write notes and poetry. I have always been certain that retirement would hold no terror for me. I have a very active inner life; I'm a good friend of mine and relish my own company, as well as having the time to interact with other people.
Which is just as well, because there has been Momentous and Wonderful News this last month! My younger daughter is leaving home to work in France as an Au Pair. She goes in January. It is so exciting - for many years her health wouldn't allow her to do anything, not even paid work. Then she gradually worked her way into a 40-hour week in a shop, has just got an NVQ2 in Retail, and has a great track-record with a well-known company.
However, she has always been aware of having missed out on some of life's adventures due to her health. She had major surgery in January which has dealt with almost all the problems she had been having, and it suddenly dawned on her that now she is free to go and live life a little. She and her sister went to French school when we lived on the Cote d'Azur, and she has decided to spend some time brushing up her French. Her love of children (she's going to a family with three) made au pairing the natural option. She may well end up, as her sister did, leaving the au pairing but staying in the country - only time will tell.
As for me - well, I have never lived alone and so this is exciting for me too! I think it's high time. It's a wonderful feeling when you successfully launch the chicks from the nest. I shall miss her like crazy but I shall be in close touch via Facebook, emails etc and it's not all that far away (the family have invited me to visit, and I intend to as soon as my leg is fixed).
I regard this as another positive about this year - time to be alone with myself and meditate, pray and write. It feels good... and who knows what will happen once she's gone? I can't see the story ending with exciting adventures for my daughters, and none for me! I have been a little concerned by a few people I know saying things like, "Oooh this will be so hard for you! Will you cope alone?" I know they mean to be supportive but it has really led me to question how I come across. Do I seem that helpless? Or are they projecting? Either way, I need to think about it. Even loving friends can be toxic unintentionally. I need to decide whether to call them on it or simply let them go quietly. I don't want or need negative people around me - years ago I would have dismissed that as really harsh, but the great thing about '50' looming is that it really does make me think about the patterns I'm setting for the NEXT fifty years. I appreciate their concern but I don't appreciate them assuming I can't cope alone.
Recently I felt the urge to begin to clear out some of the larger clutter in my home. I had a disgusting old three-piece suite which was far too big for the room. That's gone, and has been replaced by something more modest. My piano had been sitting unused for a long time. I used to be a keen pianist - in fact I counted the piano as my best friend when I was a teenager(!) - but in recent years I haven't really played at all. It struck me that the piano was a reminder of the past and in some ways a symbol of my failure to keep it up. It suddenly felt like the right time to let go of it, and interestingly, I've given it to someone for whom the piano is also a symbol of her past, but in her case, a past she wants to revisit.
This is the point, for me - I'm never going to be the finished product. I'm always going to be a work in progress - and unless I let go of some things, others can't take their place. It was strange how as soon as I got rid of the piano, my daughter seemed to get some internal 'go ahead' to quit her job and go to France. I've always felt I should hold things lightly - giving the piano away was hugely symbolic for me.
So - aching leg apart - I am STILL excited about this year. It's been very different from what I was expecting, but I know in my bones that it's going to end on a really positive note.
Monday 23 November 2009
Waiting...
Hi,
Sorry to have been away a while, I'm trying to get this knee pain sorted! I ended up going back to the doctor and sitting sobbing in his office, and he was very kind and gave me some different drugs. They don't stop the pain but they do dull it for a couple of hours now and again.
I think they need to research the effect of using a stick on the language centres of the brain! I have begun to use archaic language (such as 'joshing' instead of 'teasing') in what I can only assume is some Neuro-linguistic response to using walking aids!
However - the silver lining is immense. The pain can be almost unbearable BUT! - the sense of achievment when I manage to clean the bath, or have a shower! I've always been one for stopping and smelling the roses - now I can almost watch them unfold as I hobble past!
Soon I shall be having Physio and crutches and then a scan, and then, I imagine, surgery.
So I'll be back here soon with more news!
Sorry to have been away a while, I'm trying to get this knee pain sorted! I ended up going back to the doctor and sitting sobbing in his office, and he was very kind and gave me some different drugs. They don't stop the pain but they do dull it for a couple of hours now and again.
I think they need to research the effect of using a stick on the language centres of the brain! I have begun to use archaic language (such as 'joshing' instead of 'teasing') in what I can only assume is some Neuro-linguistic response to using walking aids!
However - the silver lining is immense. The pain can be almost unbearable BUT! - the sense of achievment when I manage to clean the bath, or have a shower! I've always been one for stopping and smelling the roses - now I can almost watch them unfold as I hobble past!
Soon I shall be having Physio and crutches and then a scan, and then, I imagine, surgery.
So I'll be back here soon with more news!
Wednesday 4 November 2009
New Glasses
I got my new glasses yesterday - they're quite different from my others. After about 20 years of sticking to little gold frames, I've gone for a larger frame in fine purple metal. They look very nice. And nobody has noticed them, which I always take as a sign that they are very 'me', so that's good.
Today I was looking at jobs, and noticed an advert for 'an Impatient, Elderly Occupational Therapist'. Of course the word was actually INpatient. I like glasses with a sense of humour. My sister and I regard these mis-sightings as part of the silver lining of getting older.
I'm still struggling with pasting anything onto here, which is frustrating cos I have loads of poems ready to go! I'll keep trying. I must have missed some button somewhere.
I'm back to the doctor's this afternoon - he's going to refer me on to a specialist I think, which will be good as my knee is very painful. I should also get my blood test results, which I am hoping won't show that I have Rheumatoid Arthritis but - if I do, I can be treated. I've dreamt about it several times, which is rare for me - my dreams are usually fantastic, narrative epics in full technicolour, rather than obvious references to real life. Perhaps once I know one way or the other, it'll stop. (In my dreams I always have RA, so we'll see how accurate they are, or whether they are playing to fears).
There's a lot to be said for being slowed down. It's painful to walk, but I make sure I concentrate on what I can see as I go, rather than the pain and the speed. You notice much more -particularly other people with limps, who have emerged from all sides, reminding me of how the world seems to be poplulated entirely by pregnant women when you're pregnant yourself.
My little town is a haven for the crippled - I've noticed since I moved here that the pavements are swarming with mobility scooters (rendering pedestrians less mobile, but we all co-exist quite happily). So I feel quite at home as I hobble over the cobbles.
Meanwhile, I'm spending time reading up on the Law of Attraction. In my Christian days I would immediately have dismissed it as a load of materialistic bunkum (but then there were Christian movements such as 'Name it and Claim it!' which were just the same). However, I think the Law is what you make it. It is possible to interpret it as the Way to get Wealthy but I think if you are a little more discerning, there is some excellent, helpful stuff in there about pursuing one's own spiritual path.
I've also read Jekyll and Hyde, as part of some research for a class homework on Horror. It's a very interesting read, and although I found the style a little elderly at first, once I'd got into it I was more than ready for the excellent last chapter, in which Jekyll discusses the struggle within him. Having only seen bits of films, I had always assumed that Jekyll was Good - but the whole point (it seems to me) is that Jekyll remains human - ie a mix of good and bad - and THAT is what allows Hyde to conquer, because the evil in Jekyll identifies with Hyde and therefore makes him stronger - he draws from both sides of the personality whereas Jekyll's goodness is ever-diminishing. It's a powerful comment on all the bad habits we allow to grow, I think.
Today I was looking at jobs, and noticed an advert for 'an Impatient, Elderly Occupational Therapist'. Of course the word was actually INpatient. I like glasses with a sense of humour. My sister and I regard these mis-sightings as part of the silver lining of getting older.
I'm still struggling with pasting anything onto here, which is frustrating cos I have loads of poems ready to go! I'll keep trying. I must have missed some button somewhere.
I'm back to the doctor's this afternoon - he's going to refer me on to a specialist I think, which will be good as my knee is very painful. I should also get my blood test results, which I am hoping won't show that I have Rheumatoid Arthritis but - if I do, I can be treated. I've dreamt about it several times, which is rare for me - my dreams are usually fantastic, narrative epics in full technicolour, rather than obvious references to real life. Perhaps once I know one way or the other, it'll stop. (In my dreams I always have RA, so we'll see how accurate they are, or whether they are playing to fears).
There's a lot to be said for being slowed down. It's painful to walk, but I make sure I concentrate on what I can see as I go, rather than the pain and the speed. You notice much more -particularly other people with limps, who have emerged from all sides, reminding me of how the world seems to be poplulated entirely by pregnant women when you're pregnant yourself.
My little town is a haven for the crippled - I've noticed since I moved here that the pavements are swarming with mobility scooters (rendering pedestrians less mobile, but we all co-exist quite happily). So I feel quite at home as I hobble over the cobbles.
Meanwhile, I'm spending time reading up on the Law of Attraction. In my Christian days I would immediately have dismissed it as a load of materialistic bunkum (but then there were Christian movements such as 'Name it and Claim it!' which were just the same). However, I think the Law is what you make it. It is possible to interpret it as the Way to get Wealthy but I think if you are a little more discerning, there is some excellent, helpful stuff in there about pursuing one's own spiritual path.
I've also read Jekyll and Hyde, as part of some research for a class homework on Horror. It's a very interesting read, and although I found the style a little elderly at first, once I'd got into it I was more than ready for the excellent last chapter, in which Jekyll discusses the struggle within him. Having only seen bits of films, I had always assumed that Jekyll was Good - but the whole point (it seems to me) is that Jekyll remains human - ie a mix of good and bad - and THAT is what allows Hyde to conquer, because the evil in Jekyll identifies with Hyde and therefore makes him stronger - he draws from both sides of the personality whereas Jekyll's goodness is ever-diminishing. It's a powerful comment on all the bad habits we allow to grow, I think.
Friday 30 October 2009
Where'd the month go?!
That's a reference to the wonderful Michael McIntyre, whose show I saw the other week. He did a whole set about how people can never believe it's October. ("It was just AUGUST! What happened to SEPTEMBER?!")
But it's true. I've let the time fly past this month with hardly a blog, because so much has happened that I've hardly drawn breath.
My daughter had a (thankfully very minor) accident in her car, I performed in the town Arts Festival, was busy at work...
WAS busy at work.
The Leg - more precisely, the Knee - had other ideas. It feels as though a rat with very blunt teeth is slowly gnawing through the bone. I've had a blood test for Rheumatoid Arthritis. I'm hoping it's not that, though I have been ignoring some mild symptoms for the last few years.
I've now had four weeks off work with another sick-note until November 9th. The pain, I explained to the doctor, was about an 18 on a scale of 1 - 10. (And this from a woman who had both her babies without any painkillers at all).
I'm hobbling round like a good'un, and am considering writing to ask if I could be the New Face of Stannah Stairlifts.
The doctor isn't quite sure what's wrong, but I'm beginning to accumulate fluid on the knee and the pain isn't easing at all, quite the reverse. He muttered something about sending me to Someone Who can Do Something.
SO - my challenge in all this is to see how it fits into my wonderful 50th year...
Not difficult, actually, given that life is never predictable and it's perfectly okay in my book to include some hard times in a wonderful year. So what if I LOOK 85 as I limp through the supermarket? I'm still alive and happy to be so!
I've had time to type up most of my poetry, which will make it easier to send to people and put online. I'm thinking about the future, and taking time to read. I'm making the most of this opportunity to rest and just Be. I can't do any housework which involves crouching or bending, as I can't guarantee being able to get back up (my daughter had to help me last time, and I was crying with pain before I managed to stand back up!)
But - there's always the memories of Michael McIntyre to see me through!
So - I'll just see what happens. It's different, that's for sure.
But it's true. I've let the time fly past this month with hardly a blog, because so much has happened that I've hardly drawn breath.
My daughter had a (thankfully very minor) accident in her car, I performed in the town Arts Festival, was busy at work...
WAS busy at work.
The Leg - more precisely, the Knee - had other ideas. It feels as though a rat with very blunt teeth is slowly gnawing through the bone. I've had a blood test for Rheumatoid Arthritis. I'm hoping it's not that, though I have been ignoring some mild symptoms for the last few years.
I've now had four weeks off work with another sick-note until November 9th. The pain, I explained to the doctor, was about an 18 on a scale of 1 - 10. (And this from a woman who had both her babies without any painkillers at all).
I'm hobbling round like a good'un, and am considering writing to ask if I could be the New Face of Stannah Stairlifts.
The doctor isn't quite sure what's wrong, but I'm beginning to accumulate fluid on the knee and the pain isn't easing at all, quite the reverse. He muttered something about sending me to Someone Who can Do Something.
SO - my challenge in all this is to see how it fits into my wonderful 50th year...
Not difficult, actually, given that life is never predictable and it's perfectly okay in my book to include some hard times in a wonderful year. So what if I LOOK 85 as I limp through the supermarket? I'm still alive and happy to be so!
I've had time to type up most of my poetry, which will make it easier to send to people and put online. I'm thinking about the future, and taking time to read. I'm making the most of this opportunity to rest and just Be. I can't do any housework which involves crouching or bending, as I can't guarantee being able to get back up (my daughter had to help me last time, and I was crying with pain before I managed to stand back up!)
But - there's always the memories of Michael McIntyre to see me through!
So - I'll just see what happens. It's different, that's for sure.
Sunday 4 October 2009
For the little girl in Costa Coffee this afternoon...
I wrote this poem this afternoon in a coffee shop, watching the most beautiful little girl - she looked as though she'd been polished with Baby Brite! I hope you like it.
She sits in a high chair,
Fist holding tightly
The crumbs from the biscuit
Her daddy just gave her.
A CRASH in the corner,
Now everyone’s looking;
A flustered young waiter
Picks glass off the floor.
She gazes a moment,
Then back to her biscuit –
Pays no attention,
Gets on with her task.
She’s only ten months, yet
Has learnt very early
To mind her own business
And do as she’s asked.
But now she is glancing
Across to the kitchen
Her eyebrows are question marks,
Mouth a wide ‘O’.
The grown-ups are chatting,
The noise is forgotten
Except by the baby,
Who’s wanting to know
“What was it? Who did it?
And why did it happen? And
What made the noises? And
How does glass break?”
She catches my eye, and
A look of intelligence
Flashes between us –
And that’s all it takes.
A brief recognition
Of something in common;
I smile, and she grins
As she chews on a spoon
My heart melts, and I whisper,
“Enjoy it, dear baby!
It goes oh, so quickly!
Have fun with your life,
You’ll be all grown-up soon!”
Then I feel someone looking,
Glance over my shoulder
And see an old woman
With snowy white hair.
She nods, and her eyes
Send me the same message,
“Enjoy being young! Have some fun if you dare!”
She’s smiling and beautiful,
Calm and serene, with
Long years of happiness
Etched on her face.
I look, and am heartened,
And know beyond doubt
That the key to growing old
Is to do it with grace.
Never stop questioning,
Let curiosity
Keep you alive and
Thirsting for more.
And don’t let regrets
Quench your pride in maturing –
Welcome each day
As it knocks on the door.
Live like a baby,
With hope and abandon,
Use all your energy
Learning to play.
Don’t use half-measures,
Cram buckets of laughter
As many as possible
Into each day.
She sits in a high chair,
Fist holding tightly
The crumbs from the biscuit
Her daddy just gave her.
A CRASH in the corner,
Now everyone’s looking;
A flustered young waiter
Picks glass off the floor.
She gazes a moment,
Then back to her biscuit –
Pays no attention,
Gets on with her task.
She’s only ten months, yet
Has learnt very early
To mind her own business
And do as she’s asked.
But now she is glancing
Across to the kitchen
Her eyebrows are question marks,
Mouth a wide ‘O’.
The grown-ups are chatting,
The noise is forgotten
Except by the baby,
Who’s wanting to know
“What was it? Who did it?
And why did it happen? And
What made the noises? And
How does glass break?”
She catches my eye, and
A look of intelligence
Flashes between us –
And that’s all it takes.
A brief recognition
Of something in common;
I smile, and she grins
As she chews on a spoon
My heart melts, and I whisper,
“Enjoy it, dear baby!
It goes oh, so quickly!
Have fun with your life,
You’ll be all grown-up soon!”
Then I feel someone looking,
Glance over my shoulder
And see an old woman
With snowy white hair.
She nods, and her eyes
Send me the same message,
“Enjoy being young! Have some fun if you dare!”
She’s smiling and beautiful,
Calm and serene, with
Long years of happiness
Etched on her face.
I look, and am heartened,
And know beyond doubt
That the key to growing old
Is to do it with grace.
Never stop questioning,
Let curiosity
Keep you alive and
Thirsting for more.
And don’t let regrets
Quench your pride in maturing –
Welcome each day
As it knocks on the door.
Live like a baby,
With hope and abandon,
Use all your energy
Learning to play.
Don’t use half-measures,
Cram buckets of laughter
As many as possible
Into each day.
Wednesday 30 September 2009
Fashionable illnesses...
I have a very sore leg at the moment... I wrenched it and I felt the injury happen, and thankfully the leg didn't fall off or anything - so I assume (and so did the doctor) that it will respond to a bit of R&R.
A friend eagerly told me it might be Fibromyalgia. She's had it for a few years now, and I have to say, it seems very fashionable these days. This friend said to me last year: "I like being ill! It means I don't have to go to work and I can do what I like!" She appears to have the energy for the things she enjoys, but is more or less retired on grounds of ill-health.
It seems a high price to pay, regarding yourself as an invalid in order to get permission to do what you want in life. I have every - every! - sympathy with dreaming of a life of doing what you want, but... it doesn't seem to be how it works, not when you're single anyway! I think the whole of society is in an Emperor's New Clothes phase, where everyone KNOWS that work has become too stressful for most people, but nobody wants to be the first to admit to it (it would, after all, bring society to a grinding halt if we actually put our physical and emotional - not to mention spiritual - wellbeing before Money). So we have all these illnesses now... all real, but all very much connected to our mental state.
Six years ago, when I was off work for five months following some rather nasty bullying, I remember realising my body was playing tricks and I gave it a stern talking-to. It was incredibly tempting to be signed off for another few months but I realised if I went that way I was choosing illness over coping... I don't blame those who do, mind, but I do think we ought to acknowledge the enormous stresses people are under.
I was so exhausted that I actually fell asleep whilst crawling along in the supermarket pushing a trolley. I was so damaged by the bullying that I had panic attacks when I was contemplating going back to work.
And yet I'm fine now. I certainly entertain regular fantasies about running that bookshop/cafe by the seaside, as do most of the women I know. But I also realise that for society to run at all (and I don't think it's doing that well tbh) we do need to step up to the mark and do our bit. If we can. Some people are simply too burnt-out to continue, which I think is a perfectly rational response to being under too much stress - but it's not really possible to say "Stop the world for a bit" unless we have illness on our side. I'm convinced that this is what is happening to a lot of people; they are unable to frame the words, "I'm not coping." They can't give themselves permission to feel too stressed to carry on, so - they become ill. (Those illnesses are real. I just think they probably won't respond to medication unless it's accompanied by a change in lifestyle and perhaps some talking therapy or the listening ears of good friends).
True, I'd secretly rather be doing some other bit rather than the one I'm doing right now, but I'm not neglecting my spiritual side, I don't really buy too much into Materialism and I think I have a reasonably healthy attitude.
But what about all these people who daren't admit even to themselves that their job and their aspirations are at odds with their wellbeing?
Wouldn't it be great if there was a little less talk about sex and we removed the taboo around discussing true Happiness (ie learning to take care of our emotional and spiritual needs rather than pretending that getting pissed will sort it all out) instead?
A friend eagerly told me it might be Fibromyalgia. She's had it for a few years now, and I have to say, it seems very fashionable these days. This friend said to me last year: "I like being ill! It means I don't have to go to work and I can do what I like!" She appears to have the energy for the things she enjoys, but is more or less retired on grounds of ill-health.
It seems a high price to pay, regarding yourself as an invalid in order to get permission to do what you want in life. I have every - every! - sympathy with dreaming of a life of doing what you want, but... it doesn't seem to be how it works, not when you're single anyway! I think the whole of society is in an Emperor's New Clothes phase, where everyone KNOWS that work has become too stressful for most people, but nobody wants to be the first to admit to it (it would, after all, bring society to a grinding halt if we actually put our physical and emotional - not to mention spiritual - wellbeing before Money). So we have all these illnesses now... all real, but all very much connected to our mental state.
Six years ago, when I was off work for five months following some rather nasty bullying, I remember realising my body was playing tricks and I gave it a stern talking-to. It was incredibly tempting to be signed off for another few months but I realised if I went that way I was choosing illness over coping... I don't blame those who do, mind, but I do think we ought to acknowledge the enormous stresses people are under.
I was so exhausted that I actually fell asleep whilst crawling along in the supermarket pushing a trolley. I was so damaged by the bullying that I had panic attacks when I was contemplating going back to work.
And yet I'm fine now. I certainly entertain regular fantasies about running that bookshop/cafe by the seaside, as do most of the women I know. But I also realise that for society to run at all (and I don't think it's doing that well tbh) we do need to step up to the mark and do our bit. If we can. Some people are simply too burnt-out to continue, which I think is a perfectly rational response to being under too much stress - but it's not really possible to say "Stop the world for a bit" unless we have illness on our side. I'm convinced that this is what is happening to a lot of people; they are unable to frame the words, "I'm not coping." They can't give themselves permission to feel too stressed to carry on, so - they become ill. (Those illnesses are real. I just think they probably won't respond to medication unless it's accompanied by a change in lifestyle and perhaps some talking therapy or the listening ears of good friends).
True, I'd secretly rather be doing some other bit rather than the one I'm doing right now, but I'm not neglecting my spiritual side, I don't really buy too much into Materialism and I think I have a reasonably healthy attitude.
But what about all these people who daren't admit even to themselves that their job and their aspirations are at odds with their wellbeing?
Wouldn't it be great if there was a little less talk about sex and we removed the taboo around discussing true Happiness (ie learning to take care of our emotional and spiritual needs rather than pretending that getting pissed will sort it all out) instead?
Monday 28 September 2009
Random thoughts...
Is an affair that's going so well you feel as though you're dancing on air, an Elationship?
How near did the Antiques show 'Going for a Song' come to being called 'Going for a Snog'? And what would it have been about?
Why has it taken me so long to realise that 'cassock' is an anagram of 'ass cock'?
Why am I rambling on here when I need a good night's sleep? ;)
Night, all! I notice the Madeleine link has gone, that didn't take long!
How near did the Antiques show 'Going for a Song' come to being called 'Going for a Snog'? And what would it have been about?
Why has it taken me so long to realise that 'cassock' is an anagram of 'ass cock'?
Why am I rambling on here when I need a good night's sleep? ;)
Night, all! I notice the Madeleine link has gone, that didn't take long!
Wednesday 23 September 2009
A quick brush with old age...
A few times in my life, I've had illnesses which gave me a glimpse into old age. When I had a middle ear problem many years ago, I wasn't able to walk alone, and needed a friendly arm to help me stand up straight and walk, not stagger, across a room. When I had a near-miss with ME, I held onto the trolley for dear life as I went round the supermarket, on one occasion falling asleep in an aisle...
And this last couple or weeks have given me a taste of those who struggle daily with arthritis. Shortly after I arrived home from Italy, my fingers - all of them - hurt so much that I could hardly write, let alone open bottles and turn taps. I wondered if it was RSI (not a good thing for an aspiring writer) and faced the thought of not being able to drive if it continued. Then my knees began to protest every time I asked them to carry me anywhere. I realised that it coincided with returning to work, and had a stern word with my body, assuring it that I would be in work with or without its cooperation.
And as suddenly as it started, it all vanished. My hands were fine, my knees seemed okay - until my left leg felt as though it had been stabbed. I rested it, put ice packs on it, and necked Ibuprofen. It improved. And then I tripped on a wire and wrenched my knee.
Reader, I expected to look down and see that my leg had come off.
It hadn't. And again it began to improve with a lot of care and none of my three-times-a-week visits to the gym.
Until last night I woke at 4, in pain. And remained in pain until it was time to get up for work. I drove to the doctor's and, bless him, he saw me immediately and has diagnosed an allergic reaction to mosquito bites, resulting in arthroscopic inflammation.
It will pass. Thank goodness. It may be a sign from the Universe that the Villa in Italy idea ought to be shelved, which is no great heartbreak.
It made me think. I had briefly begun to accept that such pain might be a part of ageing, that however much I embrace the thought of Fiftiness, my body will irrevocably complain at times.
And I'm pleased to say, it didn't dampen my enthusiasm for the next decade. Pain can be borne. All sorts of things can be assimilated into our lives and even perhaps learnt from. I've lived with emotional pain for years on end at various times. I have tinnitus, but forget about it so completely that I'm not sure I've ever bothered mentioning it to the doctor.
We can bear all sorts of things in life, if we choose to. That's not to say that we always accept difficult new things straight away, nor indeed that we ought to do so. It's important to acknowledge pain/sorrow/fear/sadness/grief etc, because (in my opinion) this diminishes their power over us.
It may be that one day I shall have to learn to live with pain. Well, what if that's the case? Many have done it before me. I am no more or less courageous than anybody else.
Meanwhile, I'm thankful that my brush with arthritis appears to be almost over. I have renewed sympathy for those who struggle with it daily. And a new perspective on what the future might - might - hold.
All the more reason to relish the present!
And this last couple or weeks have given me a taste of those who struggle daily with arthritis. Shortly after I arrived home from Italy, my fingers - all of them - hurt so much that I could hardly write, let alone open bottles and turn taps. I wondered if it was RSI (not a good thing for an aspiring writer) and faced the thought of not being able to drive if it continued. Then my knees began to protest every time I asked them to carry me anywhere. I realised that it coincided with returning to work, and had a stern word with my body, assuring it that I would be in work with or without its cooperation.
And as suddenly as it started, it all vanished. My hands were fine, my knees seemed okay - until my left leg felt as though it had been stabbed. I rested it, put ice packs on it, and necked Ibuprofen. It improved. And then I tripped on a wire and wrenched my knee.
Reader, I expected to look down and see that my leg had come off.
It hadn't. And again it began to improve with a lot of care and none of my three-times-a-week visits to the gym.
Until last night I woke at 4, in pain. And remained in pain until it was time to get up for work. I drove to the doctor's and, bless him, he saw me immediately and has diagnosed an allergic reaction to mosquito bites, resulting in arthroscopic inflammation.
It will pass. Thank goodness. It may be a sign from the Universe that the Villa in Italy idea ought to be shelved, which is no great heartbreak.
It made me think. I had briefly begun to accept that such pain might be a part of ageing, that however much I embrace the thought of Fiftiness, my body will irrevocably complain at times.
And I'm pleased to say, it didn't dampen my enthusiasm for the next decade. Pain can be borne. All sorts of things can be assimilated into our lives and even perhaps learnt from. I've lived with emotional pain for years on end at various times. I have tinnitus, but forget about it so completely that I'm not sure I've ever bothered mentioning it to the doctor.
We can bear all sorts of things in life, if we choose to. That's not to say that we always accept difficult new things straight away, nor indeed that we ought to do so. It's important to acknowledge pain/sorrow/fear/sadness/grief etc, because (in my opinion) this diminishes their power over us.
It may be that one day I shall have to learn to live with pain. Well, what if that's the case? Many have done it before me. I am no more or less courageous than anybody else.
Meanwhile, I'm thankful that my brush with arthritis appears to be almost over. I have renewed sympathy for those who struggle with it daily. And a new perspective on what the future might - might - hold.
All the more reason to relish the present!
Monday 21 September 2009
A poem I wrote...
She was a soft, warm blanket
Wrapped comfortingly around him every night.
But as he snuggled into her, he dreamed of
Egyptian cotton sheets; try as he might,
His treacherous memory drew pictures in the air
Which did not match the woman lying there.
He tried ignoring them; it felt so wrong...
But the lure of smooth, cool fabric was too strong.
He took the blanket, flung it through the door,
And cloaked in memories, slept alone once more.
Wrapped comfortingly around him every night.
But as he snuggled into her, he dreamed of
Egyptian cotton sheets; try as he might,
His treacherous memory drew pictures in the air
Which did not match the woman lying there.
He tried ignoring them; it felt so wrong...
But the lure of smooth, cool fabric was too strong.
He took the blanket, flung it through the door,
And cloaked in memories, slept alone once more.
Saturday 19 September 2009
Go on, I dare me...
It's been one of those weeks which feels about three months long, until you get to Friday and think, "Already?!" I remain fascinated by the fluidity of our perception of time. I can only imagine what reaching fifty will feel like! It's only a couple of minutes since my summers were spent hunting snails in Mr Shutt's overgrown garden, surviving only on wild raspberries (until teatime, at least, but it felt dangerously near to starvation at the time). Now they are spent wondering when to do everything that needs to be done around the house and garden, before realising that I've somehow left it six weeks to get my work outfits ready, and it's now too late...
I've never really grown up, I think that's the thing (I was going to write 'that's the problem', but it really isn't - not for me at least).
In my heart, I am still that little girl who wants to spend her days smelling the roses, watching the spiders weave their amazing webs, following ants as they carry miniscule crumbs of biscuit, racing snails, sitting in the graveyard wondering what it's like to be dead and making up stories for the people named on the tombstones, and dreaming of travelling the world one day.
I'm still her.
My daughters love this aspect of me - the enthusiastic, funny, bubbly never-stops-dreaming person who I think probably is the 'real me' as far as one can know. I love it too, but it makes settling into a job extremely difficult. Deep down I don't want to be a mortgage-slave, or appear to think that work is all-important... and yet in some ways it is. There's nobody else to pay my bills if I don't. I believe in Society and responsibility... and yet...
...can you keep a secret? I still wake up in the morning and want to run away. Not in a bad way; not in a 'stop the world I want to get off ' way. I just want to go and See and Be and Do all those things which I always thought I would do when I was Grown Up.
But I've never really grown up! I've done loads of things, of course - I've lived abroad a few times, given birth to the most wonderful daughters who are so much better than the wonderful daughters I always intended to have. I've dined with bishops (including Robert Runcie, who was gorgeous), driven a dogsled, swum naked in a mountain lake in Austria, sung some of the world's most hauntingly beautiful music in various choirs, played Eliza Doolittle in both 'Pygmalion' and 'My Fair Lady' (preferred 'Pygmalion') and been on television and radio.
Should that be 'enough'?
Well perhaps. But I'm no longer one for 'shoulds' and 'oughts'. I would put this whole thing down to Mid-life crisis, except that I don't feel any different about all this than when I was twenty. This is who I am - the restless, "Surely there's MORE?" bit is as part of me as all the rest. So I have learned to live with it, and as I approach fifty I see more and more that I am going to have to do more than tolerate it, perhaps accommodate it a little more. Maybe go somewhere I've never been, all on my own. Perhaps go on the kind of dates I've never been on. Take myself off to a restaurant with food I've never tried before.
It's NOT a rehearsal! I'm one of millions of people who've felt and continue to feel this way. As I look to the coming year, given that I've taken the trouble to start a blog, I think I owe it to myself (and others) to get off my backside and take a few risks!
I've never really grown up, I think that's the thing (I was going to write 'that's the problem', but it really isn't - not for me at least).
In my heart, I am still that little girl who wants to spend her days smelling the roses, watching the spiders weave their amazing webs, following ants as they carry miniscule crumbs of biscuit, racing snails, sitting in the graveyard wondering what it's like to be dead and making up stories for the people named on the tombstones, and dreaming of travelling the world one day.
I'm still her.
My daughters love this aspect of me - the enthusiastic, funny, bubbly never-stops-dreaming person who I think probably is the 'real me' as far as one can know. I love it too, but it makes settling into a job extremely difficult. Deep down I don't want to be a mortgage-slave, or appear to think that work is all-important... and yet in some ways it is. There's nobody else to pay my bills if I don't. I believe in Society and responsibility... and yet...
...can you keep a secret? I still wake up in the morning and want to run away. Not in a bad way; not in a 'stop the world I want to get off ' way. I just want to go and See and Be and Do all those things which I always thought I would do when I was Grown Up.
But I've never really grown up! I've done loads of things, of course - I've lived abroad a few times, given birth to the most wonderful daughters who are so much better than the wonderful daughters I always intended to have. I've dined with bishops (including Robert Runcie, who was gorgeous), driven a dogsled, swum naked in a mountain lake in Austria, sung some of the world's most hauntingly beautiful music in various choirs, played Eliza Doolittle in both 'Pygmalion' and 'My Fair Lady' (preferred 'Pygmalion') and been on television and radio.
Should that be 'enough'?
Well perhaps. But I'm no longer one for 'shoulds' and 'oughts'. I would put this whole thing down to Mid-life crisis, except that I don't feel any different about all this than when I was twenty. This is who I am - the restless, "Surely there's MORE?" bit is as part of me as all the rest. So I have learned to live with it, and as I approach fifty I see more and more that I am going to have to do more than tolerate it, perhaps accommodate it a little more. Maybe go somewhere I've never been, all on my own. Perhaps go on the kind of dates I've never been on. Take myself off to a restaurant with food I've never tried before.
It's NOT a rehearsal! I'm one of millions of people who've felt and continue to feel this way. As I look to the coming year, given that I've taken the trouble to start a blog, I think I owe it to myself (and others) to get off my backside and take a few risks!
Tuesday 15 September 2009
Why ARE we here..??
Yesterday was my non-Silver Wedding. I had wondered how it would feel - we've been apart for 7 years, divorced for 5, so a fair few anniversaries have come and gone. Still, Silver Weddings are still celebrated pretty seriously, and I wasn't sure how I would feel about it on the day.
It was tough. I dreamt the night before about my Ex's family - including his father, who died over twenty years ago, and who was so alive in the dream that I woke feeling really strange about the passage of time since the wedding. It's always fascinated me how you can look back through time to a particular event and it can seem like centuries ago, but look back at that same event, and it could be yesterday. This is one of the things which demonstrates to me that time isn't real at all. (Another being, how you can not see someone for years but slip easily into talking as though you've never been apart).
So I got to thinking, as you do, about how many people on the wedding photos (I didn't get the album out, I know them by heart) aren't around any more. Some people keep their families intact down the years, we began to lose our wedding guests quite early. Two years on, one parent had vanished. Another two, an uncle of mine... and now, a quarter of a century down the line, at least 10 significant guests are gone, and many bit-players too.
Which brought me back to my perennial (everyone's perennial) question - What is the point of being here at all? I don't mean that to sound depressed, it's a genuine question which puzzles me from time to time. I have lots of answers - but they all seem to involve what I mean in context - I am someone's parent, friend, teacher etc. It used to be 'because God made me and loves me' but that one doesn't work at all for me now, as I suspect I may have made God...
Does there have to be a Point? This way Existentialism (about which I know incredibly little) lies.
Yet I do persist in believing - intuiting - that there IS Meaning. I refuse to be just the sum of my parts, and to have relationships which can be scientifically proven to be meaningless.
And I suppose somewhere in that refusal, that determination to have meaning, lies the answer. Greater souls than I have struggled with this and gone away from the fight empty-handed, but that doesn't mean I don't need to grapple too. In fact, I suspect that IS our meaning - that in this seemingly random (yet intricately inter-connected) Universe, humans are movers and shakers simply by virtue of asking the questions; almost like unwitting computer programmers.
Today I saw that Google has found this blog. It feels oddly comforting. I think most of us want to leave our mark on the world, and for me having children doesn't feel that way - they are THEM, not me. I don't want to burden them with validating my life (although of course they do, infinitely so).
This is the year I am going to find some answers! :)
I got this unexpected text from my Ex, which made me feel better in a bitter-sweet kind of way: Strange day. All kinds of emotion. Just thought I'd say it wasn't wasted time. Thank you for then and now. X
One day we too will be memories in a photo album. I wonder if those who follow us will have the answer to my question, and tell a new generation about me and why I was so unforgettable? It struck me as a child that once you are further back than 'Grandma' nobody gets emotional about you not being there any longer. And that's as it should be, isn't it? Otherwise, how would we cope day-to-day with all the emotion?
I'm beginning to feel a hint of Carpe Diem coming on!
It was tough. I dreamt the night before about my Ex's family - including his father, who died over twenty years ago, and who was so alive in the dream that I woke feeling really strange about the passage of time since the wedding. It's always fascinated me how you can look back through time to a particular event and it can seem like centuries ago, but look back at that same event, and it could be yesterday. This is one of the things which demonstrates to me that time isn't real at all. (Another being, how you can not see someone for years but slip easily into talking as though you've never been apart).
So I got to thinking, as you do, about how many people on the wedding photos (I didn't get the album out, I know them by heart) aren't around any more. Some people keep their families intact down the years, we began to lose our wedding guests quite early. Two years on, one parent had vanished. Another two, an uncle of mine... and now, a quarter of a century down the line, at least 10 significant guests are gone, and many bit-players too.
Which brought me back to my perennial (everyone's perennial) question - What is the point of being here at all? I don't mean that to sound depressed, it's a genuine question which puzzles me from time to time. I have lots of answers - but they all seem to involve what I mean in context - I am someone's parent, friend, teacher etc. It used to be 'because God made me and loves me' but that one doesn't work at all for me now, as I suspect I may have made God...
Does there have to be a Point? This way Existentialism (about which I know incredibly little) lies.
Yet I do persist in believing - intuiting - that there IS Meaning. I refuse to be just the sum of my parts, and to have relationships which can be scientifically proven to be meaningless.
And I suppose somewhere in that refusal, that determination to have meaning, lies the answer. Greater souls than I have struggled with this and gone away from the fight empty-handed, but that doesn't mean I don't need to grapple too. In fact, I suspect that IS our meaning - that in this seemingly random (yet intricately inter-connected) Universe, humans are movers and shakers simply by virtue of asking the questions; almost like unwitting computer programmers.
Today I saw that Google has found this blog. It feels oddly comforting. I think most of us want to leave our mark on the world, and for me having children doesn't feel that way - they are THEM, not me. I don't want to burden them with validating my life (although of course they do, infinitely so).
This is the year I am going to find some answers! :)
I got this unexpected text from my Ex, which made me feel better in a bitter-sweet kind of way: Strange day. All kinds of emotion. Just thought I'd say it wasn't wasted time. Thank you for then and now. X
One day we too will be memories in a photo album. I wonder if those who follow us will have the answer to my question, and tell a new generation about me and why I was so unforgettable? It struck me as a child that once you are further back than 'Grandma' nobody gets emotional about you not being there any longer. And that's as it should be, isn't it? Otherwise, how would we cope day-to-day with all the emotion?
I'm beginning to feel a hint of Carpe Diem coming on!
Sunday 13 September 2009
I love this poem...
LIFE GOES ON
If I should go before the rest of you,
Break not a flower,
Nor inscribe a stone.
Nor, when I am gone,
Speak in a Sunday voice -
But be the usual selves
That I have known
Weep if you must;
Parting is hell.
But life goes on
So... sing as well.
Joyce Grenfell (1910 - 1979)
(Every version I looked at had different punctuation, some had none!)
If I should go before the rest of you,
Break not a flower,
Nor inscribe a stone.
Nor, when I am gone,
Speak in a Sunday voice -
But be the usual selves
That I have known
Weep if you must;
Parting is hell.
But life goes on
So... sing as well.
Joyce Grenfell (1910 - 1979)
(Every version I looked at had different punctuation, some had none!)
Get on with it!
I've just been looking at jobs online. I've come across two wonderful schools' websites reporting the sudden and shocking death of their headteachers. Just looking at the websites tells me what an inspiration they have been, what they have achieved and what an enormous sense of grief and loss is being experienced by their school communities. One had won a prestigious teaching award last year.
They were both around my age.
It is a strange thing to feel sad that you never met someone whom - well, whom you never met! I found myself thinking, "If she'd been alive and I'd got an interview, we would have met and this would have been my loss too in some small way." Even without that meeting, I can feel sad for those who are reeling with shock as I type, and imagine the superhuman effort they are making to start term as normally as possible.
As I've written before, we are all connected. It is only by the merest chance that I even know about these people, but that doesn't mean I can't be touched by their lives and early deaths.
We cannot know how long we are here for. So it makes sense to make the most of it, to grasp those nettles, to dare to have those relationships knowing that even if they end, they were fun while they lasted, to take those risks, to make those differences...
...while we can. When we die, we leave a legacy in the hearts and minds of everyone who knew us. To a remarkable extent, we can choose NOW how we wish to be remembered.
If I died today, I think I would be remembered as a warm, friendly, loving and humorous woman with certain talents which perhaps I never used to the full. If death has a meaning for the living, perhaps it is a reminder to live our lives to the full - only I can live my life as it can best be lived. Nobody else can do that for me. This will be a good year to take stock and decide what footprints I want to leave in the hearts, minds and souls of those I care about.
They were both around my age.
It is a strange thing to feel sad that you never met someone whom - well, whom you never met! I found myself thinking, "If she'd been alive and I'd got an interview, we would have met and this would have been my loss too in some small way." Even without that meeting, I can feel sad for those who are reeling with shock as I type, and imagine the superhuman effort they are making to start term as normally as possible.
As I've written before, we are all connected. It is only by the merest chance that I even know about these people, but that doesn't mean I can't be touched by their lives and early deaths.
We cannot know how long we are here for. So it makes sense to make the most of it, to grasp those nettles, to dare to have those relationships knowing that even if they end, they were fun while they lasted, to take those risks, to make those differences...
...while we can. When we die, we leave a legacy in the hearts and minds of everyone who knew us. To a remarkable extent, we can choose NOW how we wish to be remembered.
If I died today, I think I would be remembered as a warm, friendly, loving and humorous woman with certain talents which perhaps I never used to the full. If death has a meaning for the living, perhaps it is a reminder to live our lives to the full - only I can live my life as it can best be lived. Nobody else can do that for me. This will be a good year to take stock and decide what footprints I want to leave in the hearts, minds and souls of those I care about.
Wednesday 9 September 2009
Feelings...
I'm still feeling excited about this year. I'm just coming to the end of a period of counselling which has been very useful. It seems that although I've always been the person people go to with their problems, approachable and empathetic, in one sense it was all an act (I didn't know that).
I'd got to 48 without realising that I had mistaken thoughts for feelings, insight for empathy. To be fair, nobody else had spotted it either. I had to retreat into analysing and thinking as a little girl, when it was a bit too painful to face facts such as Mummy not really wanting me around. Because I have a good imagination, I've always been able to articulate my feelings - but in fact they were more... ideas about feelings.
This is hard to grasp, I know. When it first hit me I felt - felt - as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water into my soul.
The fact is, though, that it had never really occurred to me (although I work with children to help them identify their feelings) that feelings are - well, felt.
I'm still not quite there, but I'm getting there. I can now identify anxiety in my chest as opposed to giving a long list of words describing it. I've not yet had many visceral sensations, which is SO weird because I have always seen myself as incredibly intuitive. But my intuition is in my head...
This perhaps explains at last why I always felt different. Since entering teaching I've often wondered if I was some kind of autistic child who miraculously grew out of it. Now I realised that I deliberately froze my feelings because it was much safer that way. I'm beginning to have more and more 'Derr!' moments when it hits me that feelings are called that because you FEEL them in your body. Not rocket science, but to me, Quantum Physics. (Literally - read Deepak Chopra!)
I'm sure it's not just me. Many people run from what's In There. It's just that I'd spent so many years thinking it all through that it never struck me that I was - thinking it through. I've talked this over with my daughters; I think I've spared one of them the trouble of going down this path!
I've certainly held back at times, aided and abetted by Evangelical Christianity. I forgave hurts blindly, never challenging those who inflicted them. I accepted emotional abuse and turned the other cheek for more. I strived to be Loving without tapping into the anger which led Christ to beat people up in the Temple. Above all, I tried to be Nice. Because I knew what Not Nice looked like, and I didn't want to let it out.
Now I feel safer. It's okay not to be Nice. I always knew that - in my head... now I Know it - in my heart.
As people go, I'm not a bad one. No more or less than most of the others on the planet, in fact. I'm spending time every day meditating on some thoughts of Deepak Chopra (from the book 'SynchroDestiny') and one of the main themes is that we reflect, and are reflected in, everyone on the planet.
It's a big thought, but a comforting one in many ways. I have always felt a deep, deep connection, almost indescribable in words (and therefore probably one of my longest-lived and most authentic emotions) to the world and its inhabitants. I've been puzzled for years about why, when I drive past old people and their dogs, I'm overwhelmed with sadness at their inevitable separation down the line. For decades I've counted certain trees amongst my greatest friends.
Does this make me mad? Perhaps, I suppose it depends who's judging.
All I know for sure is that it makes me ME. And that's a great way to approach 50, isn't it? Being the most Me I've ever been...
I'd got to 48 without realising that I had mistaken thoughts for feelings, insight for empathy. To be fair, nobody else had spotted it either. I had to retreat into analysing and thinking as a little girl, when it was a bit too painful to face facts such as Mummy not really wanting me around. Because I have a good imagination, I've always been able to articulate my feelings - but in fact they were more... ideas about feelings.
This is hard to grasp, I know. When it first hit me I felt - felt - as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water into my soul.
The fact is, though, that it had never really occurred to me (although I work with children to help them identify their feelings) that feelings are - well, felt.
I'm still not quite there, but I'm getting there. I can now identify anxiety in my chest as opposed to giving a long list of words describing it. I've not yet had many visceral sensations, which is SO weird because I have always seen myself as incredibly intuitive. But my intuition is in my head...
This perhaps explains at last why I always felt different. Since entering teaching I've often wondered if I was some kind of autistic child who miraculously grew out of it. Now I realised that I deliberately froze my feelings because it was much safer that way. I'm beginning to have more and more 'Derr!' moments when it hits me that feelings are called that because you FEEL them in your body. Not rocket science, but to me, Quantum Physics. (Literally - read Deepak Chopra!)
I'm sure it's not just me. Many people run from what's In There. It's just that I'd spent so many years thinking it all through that it never struck me that I was - thinking it through. I've talked this over with my daughters; I think I've spared one of them the trouble of going down this path!
I've certainly held back at times, aided and abetted by Evangelical Christianity. I forgave hurts blindly, never challenging those who inflicted them. I accepted emotional abuse and turned the other cheek for more. I strived to be Loving without tapping into the anger which led Christ to beat people up in the Temple. Above all, I tried to be Nice. Because I knew what Not Nice looked like, and I didn't want to let it out.
Now I feel safer. It's okay not to be Nice. I always knew that - in my head... now I Know it - in my heart.
As people go, I'm not a bad one. No more or less than most of the others on the planet, in fact. I'm spending time every day meditating on some thoughts of Deepak Chopra (from the book 'SynchroDestiny') and one of the main themes is that we reflect, and are reflected in, everyone on the planet.
It's a big thought, but a comforting one in many ways. I have always felt a deep, deep connection, almost indescribable in words (and therefore probably one of my longest-lived and most authentic emotions) to the world and its inhabitants. I've been puzzled for years about why, when I drive past old people and their dogs, I'm overwhelmed with sadness at their inevitable separation down the line. For decades I've counted certain trees amongst my greatest friends.
Does this make me mad? Perhaps, I suppose it depends who's judging.
All I know for sure is that it makes me ME. And that's a great way to approach 50, isn't it? Being the most Me I've ever been...
Friday 4 September 2009
Perspective...
Yesterday I visited a friend in hospital. I say a friend - he taught me 'A' level French over 30 years ago. We got in touch on Friends Reunited in 2007 and we've corresponded ever since. Earlier this week he rang to let me know he had probably got cancer and was in hospital for tests and pain relief. My immediate reaction was to ask if he'd like me to visit, and he was so thrilled that I went the next day.
I took the train up to Leeds. Even though my daughter had warned me about the charge to use public toilets, I was a little shocked at finding the station ones cost 30p. I showed my age by muttering darkly, "Six shillings! That's 72 old pennies! Inflation? Pah!" and walked cross-legged to the bus stop...
People were very friendly (as I'd expect in Yorkshire - still, it was nice to be right!) and someone showed me the stop I needed. St James' is HUGE - I found the right bit of it without too much trouble, and stopped off for a coffee before searching for my friend's ward.
As I sat there collecting my thoughts, I decided to write a poem for my friend in the blank card I'd bought. I wondered what one puts under such circumstances... everyone responds differently to the news of terminal illness, but I felt that if it were me, I'd like to know I wasn't going to be remembered just for being an invalid.
Here's the poem. It's not great literature, I didn't have time to polish it much, but it came from the heart and I know he loved it...
FOR JACK
Since we last met...
Thirty Christmases have come and gone;
Yet still I see you as you were back then.
Patiently dealing with our teenage silliness,
Coaxing us to a deeper knowledge of the grammar for which our school was named.
Still images are imprinted on my mind;
'Le Grand Meaulnes' - a film in Leeds -
Your dry humour, love of crosswords,
The sudden silence when you raised your voice
Because we'd gone too far.
We never kept in touch, but through the years
I have remembered you.
As I drink tea, and wait to come and find you on the ward,
My mind will not allow me
To see you any older than you were.
I replay the moving pictures...
You trudge across a bridge,
Perhaps you glance to see the river
Meander past the boathouse to the weir.
And then you climb a slope.
I walk behind you, watching,
Waiting for the moment when your back straightens, your weariness lifts,
Your face a happy beacon
As your little daughters run to you.
You drop your briefcase, scoop them to your shoulders,
Hold them close...
That's how I remember you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
We had a great time catching up. There no strangeness between us, none of the awkward shyness you can feel when you meet an old teacher. We simply met soul-to-soul, and took great comfort in it.
Perspective. Life in perspective. What really matters? Estranged family had been to see him in hospital - bridges were being built. Love was shining through and triumphing.
Whatever happens, I hope he will take comfort from my memories of him as a young man full of vigour and love for his family. That's how I remember him.
I took the train up to Leeds. Even though my daughter had warned me about the charge to use public toilets, I was a little shocked at finding the station ones cost 30p. I showed my age by muttering darkly, "Six shillings! That's 72 old pennies! Inflation? Pah!" and walked cross-legged to the bus stop...
People were very friendly (as I'd expect in Yorkshire - still, it was nice to be right!) and someone showed me the stop I needed. St James' is HUGE - I found the right bit of it without too much trouble, and stopped off for a coffee before searching for my friend's ward.
As I sat there collecting my thoughts, I decided to write a poem for my friend in the blank card I'd bought. I wondered what one puts under such circumstances... everyone responds differently to the news of terminal illness, but I felt that if it were me, I'd like to know I wasn't going to be remembered just for being an invalid.
Here's the poem. It's not great literature, I didn't have time to polish it much, but it came from the heart and I know he loved it...
FOR JACK
Since we last met...
Thirty Christmases have come and gone;
Yet still I see you as you were back then.
Patiently dealing with our teenage silliness,
Coaxing us to a deeper knowledge of the grammar for which our school was named.
Still images are imprinted on my mind;
'Le Grand Meaulnes' - a film in Leeds -
Your dry humour, love of crosswords,
The sudden silence when you raised your voice
Because we'd gone too far.
We never kept in touch, but through the years
I have remembered you.
As I drink tea, and wait to come and find you on the ward,
My mind will not allow me
To see you any older than you were.
I replay the moving pictures...
You trudge across a bridge,
Perhaps you glance to see the river
Meander past the boathouse to the weir.
And then you climb a slope.
I walk behind you, watching,
Waiting for the moment when your back straightens, your weariness lifts,
Your face a happy beacon
As your little daughters run to you.
You drop your briefcase, scoop them to your shoulders,
Hold them close...
That's how I remember you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
We had a great time catching up. There no strangeness between us, none of the awkward shyness you can feel when you meet an old teacher. We simply met soul-to-soul, and took great comfort in it.
Perspective. Life in perspective. What really matters? Estranged family had been to see him in hospital - bridges were being built. Love was shining through and triumphing.
Whatever happens, I hope he will take comfort from my memories of him as a young man full of vigour and love for his family. That's how I remember him.
Tuesday 1 September 2009
And so it continues...
Today has been a long day, full of appointments and non-appointments (I was a day early for one!)
I took the car (aka Zachary) for his first MOT and 30,000 mile service. I spent the morning walking up and down the local roads, stopping at cafes from time to time, until at 1 they told me it would be all day, and asked if I'd like to borrow a car. Which I did, only to realise on the way home that my house keys were on the car-keys fob. I called at a friend's house and spent a couple of hours with kittens crawling up me and lying asleep on my chest.
The cat hadn't been well so once I'd collected the car (£233 plus another £180 in two weeks when they replace a part) I popped her to the vets - another £43... At least my trip to the doctor's was free! I had a good chat and laugh with the nurse who saw me. Bills were the last thing on my mind.
You know what? I refuse to worry about money. My Dad, who wasn't in the least religious, always taught me that "If you give, you get back." He said it was like some Universal Law. He was ahead of his time... anyway, I have always given, and always got back. Years ago I even tithed my student grant. I was the only person I knew with money left at the end of each year.
I spoke to a dear friend tonight. He has just learnt that he probably has cancer. He has thousands of pounds more than I do, but he probably won't be able to buy his way out of this one...
Money isn't real, after all. We've invented it. It's useful when it gives you a better quality of life, but it isn't useful when the pursuit of money leads to a poorer quality of life. This much I've learned in 49 years. I'm certainly not going to worry about it - to me, bills are a confirmation of the fact that I have enough. And that's all I need. More than enough will surely come my way, and I shall enjoy it, but enough is... well, enough!
I took the car (aka Zachary) for his first MOT and 30,000 mile service. I spent the morning walking up and down the local roads, stopping at cafes from time to time, until at 1 they told me it would be all day, and asked if I'd like to borrow a car. Which I did, only to realise on the way home that my house keys were on the car-keys fob. I called at a friend's house and spent a couple of hours with kittens crawling up me and lying asleep on my chest.
The cat hadn't been well so once I'd collected the car (£233 plus another £180 in two weeks when they replace a part) I popped her to the vets - another £43... At least my trip to the doctor's was free! I had a good chat and laugh with the nurse who saw me. Bills were the last thing on my mind.
You know what? I refuse to worry about money. My Dad, who wasn't in the least religious, always taught me that "If you give, you get back." He said it was like some Universal Law. He was ahead of his time... anyway, I have always given, and always got back. Years ago I even tithed my student grant. I was the only person I knew with money left at the end of each year.
I spoke to a dear friend tonight. He has just learnt that he probably has cancer. He has thousands of pounds more than I do, but he probably won't be able to buy his way out of this one...
Money isn't real, after all. We've invented it. It's useful when it gives you a better quality of life, but it isn't useful when the pursuit of money leads to a poorer quality of life. This much I've learned in 49 years. I'm certainly not going to worry about it - to me, bills are a confirmation of the fact that I have enough. And that's all I need. More than enough will surely come my way, and I shall enjoy it, but enough is... well, enough!
Sunday 30 August 2009
Here we go!
I had a fantastic birthday yesterday. My daughter took me out for lunch (her Dad came too) at a very nice Italian restaurant. I resisted the pizza (trying not to eat too much wheat these days) and chose a chicken dish, which was beautifully cooked and not too filling, leaving room for dessert. I hardly ever eat dessert but I decided I was going to celebrate and chose something I wouldn't normally have - a tart with figs and plums, which looked like the kind of thing which would send Greg into raptures on Masterchef (if you want to win, just cook Greg a dessert with figs in).
I had a glass of prosecco as I wanted my day to sparkle, and feeling very wicked, chose a liqueur coffee to finish - maybe I wouldn't have done if I'd known they were going to bring me a free Birthday Prosecco as well! It made for a very merry walk round the shops afterwards...
I had all kinds of cards and messages from people. Even though the weekend/Bank Holiday combo had done its worst and delayed a few cards, there are plenty on my mantelpiece, and some to look forward to. We arrived home to friends on the doorstep and yet more cards and flowers. It was a really lovely day!
Today I'm going into town to soak up a bit of Bank Holiday atmosphere before revving up for the return to work later this week. :)
I had a glass of prosecco as I wanted my day to sparkle, and feeling very wicked, chose a liqueur coffee to finish - maybe I wouldn't have done if I'd known they were going to bring me a free Birthday Prosecco as well! It made for a very merry walk round the shops afterwards...
I had all kinds of cards and messages from people. Even though the weekend/Bank Holiday combo had done its worst and delayed a few cards, there are plenty on my mantelpiece, and some to look forward to. We arrived home to friends on the doorstep and yet more cards and flowers. It was a really lovely day!
Today I'm going into town to soak up a bit of Bank Holiday atmosphere before revving up for the return to work later this week. :)
Saturday 29 August 2009
Almost there!
Tomorrow's my birthday! I still get ridiculously excited about birthdays... I've never really known why, but I suspect it's something to do with being frequently told as a little girl about my very dangerous birth which 'almost killed' my mother and me. (I was placenta praevia - the minute birth began, my life support system was gone and my mother was bleeding to death. Luckily she was in the operating theatre so an emergency C-section saved our lives).
Birthdays were always a bit of a strange time for me, with Mum recalling the birth story in very dramatic fashion. In some way she blamed me for her ill-health afterwards, and we never really bonded as I would have liked. I think for me, a birthday was a day which had the potential for that magical, story-book Mummy to appear. In fact, I got a bit of a self-pitying thing about them as the day itself was very often either on August Bank Holiday or the Sunday and so cards would rarely arrive on time. For some reason this mattered terribly to me; I took it as a personal slight.
However, these days I just love being around to celebrate Life. Cards are a bonus. And I still get that little-girl excitement about my birthday... Tomorrow I'll tell you how it went!
Birthdays were always a bit of a strange time for me, with Mum recalling the birth story in very dramatic fashion. In some way she blamed me for her ill-health afterwards, and we never really bonded as I would have liked. I think for me, a birthday was a day which had the potential for that magical, story-book Mummy to appear. In fact, I got a bit of a self-pitying thing about them as the day itself was very often either on August Bank Holiday or the Sunday and so cards would rarely arrive on time. For some reason this mattered terribly to me; I took it as a personal slight.
However, these days I just love being around to celebrate Life. Cards are a bonus. And I still get that little-girl excitement about my birthday... Tomorrow I'll tell you how it went!
Friday 28 August 2009
Countdown to Fifty!
This blog is my birthday present to myself. My 49th birthday is in two days' time, and I am really excited about starting my fiftieth year on the planet! So far, each year has been better than the last. I realise there may be a tipping-point sometime in the future, but - so far, so good.
Many people are so afraid of the ageing process; yet it's the one thing we can't prevent in life. I look 'young for my age' - even at 48 I only have a very few silver hairs... but in a decade I shall probably look much older than many of my peers as the plastic surgery culture eats into our self-respect and feeds our adulation of youth.
I wanted to make my voice heard in favour of embracing the ageing process. Just to be clear, I don't consider 50 old at all . I'm the youngest of four, all of whom are outrageously young for their age as well, and the oldest woman I ever knew was 107, which puts it all into perspective, don't you think?
I'm reading a lot about the Law of Attraction at the moment. It's a theme I shall return to, but for now I shall content myself with shouting out to cyberspace, "THIS IS GOING TO BE A WONDERFUL YEAR!!!!!!"
Hope yours is too, do follow me through the next twelve months and see how it goes! :)
Many people are so afraid of the ageing process; yet it's the one thing we can't prevent in life. I look 'young for my age' - even at 48 I only have a very few silver hairs... but in a decade I shall probably look much older than many of my peers as the plastic surgery culture eats into our self-respect and feeds our adulation of youth.
I wanted to make my voice heard in favour of embracing the ageing process. Just to be clear, I don't consider 50 old at all . I'm the youngest of four, all of whom are outrageously young for their age as well, and the oldest woman I ever knew was 107, which puts it all into perspective, don't you think?
I'm reading a lot about the Law of Attraction at the moment. It's a theme I shall return to, but for now I shall content myself with shouting out to cyberspace, "THIS IS GOING TO BE A WONDERFUL YEAR!!!!!!"
Hope yours is too, do follow me through the next twelve months and see how it goes! :)
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