Friday, 21 July 2017

Shock.

I'm not sure you ever get over a shock. I learnt yesterday that we are all born with the built in fear of loud noises, the default is set jump which I do, more so than most. And the fear of falling over a cliff. Which I don't. The shock of sudden death is known as traumatic and can take years to accept and deal with properly. I accept that. I am still reeling from the loss of my sister at Christmas. I think we all are to be honest but life carries on and has that incredible way of smoothing out without much effort from us. We keep going, keep doing our thing, whatever that may be and time ticks on. It has been over 6 months now and I have completely lost this year. I have a small voice upstairs calling me and I'm hoping he might settle again so I can greedily write for longer.. It's doubtful.

My book is being looked at by someone who will help me get it ready for publishing. She doesn't want to change the story. She made me very proud of myself yesterday which is something I feel rarely. It's going to be ready by the first week in September. 

I am in shock that something that has been so hard to let go of, has been described as 'a brave, fascinating story'.. 

I am writing the sequel.

Wednesday, 5 July 2017

Higher love.

I'm back in the room. Thank God. I had a shitty few days. Not really shitty days but a shitty mood that in turn made my days shitty. Isn't it stupid how we let a bad mood destroy a perfectly lovely day? Childish really not to appreciate life as it is and be grateful that we are here after all. We don't need to be here but we are, so better to smile and do the best we can. There's already far too much moaning and misery without going along in a strop because .. what? I didn't get what I wanted? I may as well have stamped my feet in a tantrum. Although I couldn't. I'm embarrassed that I allowed the circumstances to monopolise my life for over 24 hours. I am hurt (yes I know I've said that already) but it's a constant thing at the moment. I can't shake it. I want to make it better. I want to tell my sister that it's okay because it is. It will be okay. I want to hold her hand as she lies in the hospital, unconscious taking her last breaths. I want to hold her hand as she flies home unaware that her life is over. I want to tell her that I will look after her children as best I can for the rest of my life. Unconditionally. Her boy who is now my boy. I love him with a deeper love than I thought possible. He is and always will be hers but he is mine and therefore so is she.

Shitty mood passed, I am waiting to see what my mobility will be for the next few months. I am stuck. I am stationary. I have friends who have taken my children to school and I have friends who have taken me to the supermarket but it hurts that I need help. And I do need help. We'll see what they say. It was a surprise that it was broken, maybe I'll surprise them by being mended already. Fingers crossed.

I'm having my windows cleaned tomorrow. Jobs being ticked off a list that I haven't had a chance to even consider. For months I have put my head down and charged ahead looking after my sisters boy, my girls and my daily business. Have I looked after myself? No I haven't. I have the chance to stop now and pay attention to what is important. I need to listen to my soul. At least when the windows are squeaky clean I will be able to see out towards a future. Because that's what I have ahead of me.

I am always on the go. I rarely stop. I am no different to many but I thrive on dead lines, pressure and time keeping.

"Just because you're not headed to a final destination doesn't mean you should assume that you have lost your drive. The stage between journeys can become a wonderful period of relaxation that prepares you for the path that soon will be revealed to you" Madisyn Taylor.

I talk to her. She tells me things and sometimes, I laugh because I hear myself saying something like, "Oh Shut up, Obviously I know that". Her boy was playing with a toy tractor in the dogs water bowl and making a bloody mess this morning. I said, "Why would you do that? It's the dogs bowl!" and she said "He's 2 and a half". But I'm here and she isn't. I wish it was different but I am so loving having him in my family. He fits perfectly. Literally like he's been here forever. Nothing has ever been this easy. He joined us when my heart was broken but has helped me accept that my broken heart is okay. It doesn't need to mend. It's okay to feel pain and it's okay to allow the pain let love in. The possibility of maybe, just maybe allowing myself to be happy. I might even consider sharing my time with another adult. Only maybe. I had absolutely and completely written that off and I'm not saying that I will because I still see a man holding a glass of wine in France as I sit in my nightie watching the sunrise. Of that, I am certain. I think I am almost 60 years old then but I'm very happy about that.

"You're very lucky that you still feel connected to her" I was told this morning. I am unbelievably lucky that I know, without doubt, that she is guiding me and sometimes, pushing me into situations that create a stir, a smile and a shake of my head. Her ex fell arse over tit in the fathers race in front of the whole school.. That was her. No question. My broken knee cap? Could she be that powerful? Probably not but she can allow me to sit still and be quiet. Hear her, hear myself and allow time to heal me and adjust to this massive change.  I am doing for her what she wished she could have done. Better, I hope. Not meaning to insult or be smart. I'm not implying that I am better but I am saying that I can do this. I've got it.

"Daboo Mummy" my favourite words ever. Fact.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rcsfj9s_aBs

Tuesday, 4 July 2017

Another shift.

I have bust my knee. Quite extraordinary and I can't get my head around it at all because I haven't fallen over and the X-ray showed an impact break. Straight through the kneecap. My consultant at the fracture clinic seems to think it might have been cracked for a few weeks and when I ran a 10K last weekend, the ligaments simply pulled the patella apart. I am in a leg brace and it will take 12 weeks to mend. That's a very long time for a mother of three to sit still. It's a very long time for a woman who runs four times a week to sit still. It's a very, very long time for a woman who usually 'does' to not do. And, again, you really find out who your friends are. Huge kisses to the ones that have stepped up. No pun intended. 

I started my life being abused. A few people know this, not many. I have never really spoken about it. To a councillor, a kindred spirit, a boyfriend who I was told I could trust because they would always be there for me.. Yeah, about that. And because I accepted being abused as my norm, I started life with very little self esteem. I didn't pick up much more throughout my teenage years and then into my 20's, it seemed I was attracted to abusers like a magnet on a fridge. Mental, and emotional abuse luckily more than physical although there was one who thought it was okay to thump me simply for breathing too loudly. WTF? No abuse is acceptable. My mind was played with, my heart ripped up and I was treated like no girl should ever be treated. I was never really good enough for any one of my boyfriends. That hurts. Truthfully, they were never good enough for me either but they didn't need to be mean and take with them the tiny bit of self worth I had. Boys in a break up are bastards. 

I am nearly 46 years old. I know that I'm intolerant of bullshit and bad behaviour but what else is there? If someone shows complete lack of respect, why would I want to be near them? I don't. Not one bit. It has reduced my friendship groups. It has alienated me from old friends who once would roar with laughter as I relayed a tale in the days when we felt invincible. The trouble is, as you get older, you soon realise that life is precious. We are not invincible and words more so than actions can really hurt. That's my main issue right now, I am hurt. It is physical and I'm not talking about my inconvenient broken knee, I am talking about the pain of losing my sister. The other half of me who witnessed my abuse and who wished she could help when she couldn't. I remember her saying after Mum died, how horrible it was for her to know I was being hurt but not being able to do anything about it. Maybe through fear, I'm not sure. I would like to think that I might have tried if roles were reversed. Who knows. I don't blame her for staying silent. She was, after all, only 5 years old. 

I'm intolerant and I'm impatient. Neither are ideal for a usually active woman but I am trying to accept this sudden immobility and use my time wisely. Which is why I am here, right now, today. All three children are out of the house until later and I am at my desk. No more excuses. I have been given the opportunity to sit and finish what I started years ago. Lucky me. I think.

And because this is me and my space, I can also admit that I am crying. A lot. I don't cry. Not really. But I am crying now. And on the flip side of the coin, I kissed an old friend at the weekend and I didn't expect that either. Not one bit. So I'm feeling lucky, sad and confused all at the same time.

Until tomorrow..
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lc8X3FXwQCg

Another shift.

I'm just going to get myself a cup of coffee because it is the smallest of small pleasures in my life that keep me going. Truly, I am a ...