The Ties That Bind

What holds us back from moving forward at those crossroad points of our lives? These past two years I have found myself thinking, some might say overthinking, and writing about choices we make in life and the directions that we take. Often the image replays in my head of a lone girl stood in a clearing in the woods with two or three possible pathways opening up infront of her. Such imagery serves to illustrate the dilemmas we face as we make particular choices in our lives but then again, such choices are rarely presented to us in such a clear cut manner.

It’s not like life gives us a series of signposted options where each path is marked to lead to a particular destination. Mostly I have stumbled around and only part-way along the path discovered my new surroundings and begun to guess where I might be headed.

There are obvious key moments in life where I have stood at the metaphorical crossroads and made a conscious decision to follow one particular path. At the end of school, choosing to study for a degree, saying yes to a marriage proposal, committing to having a family and most recently, walking away from my teaching career- all of these were definite pathway choices. Other aspects of my life feel more akin to being in stumbling mode, trying my best to stay upright as I keep moving forward.

Mostly we keep our momentum moving forward until we hit an obstacle blocking our way, don’t we? Sometimes we have the courage and reserves of resilience to keep pushing on until we break through the obstacle to continue on beyond it. Sometimes the obstacle stops us in our tracks and forces us to look around and notice details previously unseen. These are the reflective moments when we maybe appreciate what we already have and perhaps take some time to re-evaluate who we are and where we are going. I have probably spent most of this year doing that, if truth be told.

I am writing this as the last few days of the year play out their tune, whilst waiting for the fresh melody of a new year to begin. It’s that time when resolutions are discussed, set and more often than not, broken and discarded as quickly as they were established. That’s my backdrop to my thoughts tonight. Like many others, I am wondering what may be ahead for me and what choices I might be able to make in the next twelve months. For unlike the lone girl in the woods, free to skip off along any path that takes her fancy, I feel inhibited. Invisible yet very tangible ties bind me and can make any progress feel impossible at times. I find myself asking what is it that binds me? Confidence issues, circumstance, indecision - all are playing a part. None of us can really go skipping off into the woods without a second thought though, can we?

There is a pressure at this time of resolution making to be better, to reinvent yourself and become a new model, as if the current one has become outdated and defunct in some way. We’ll all have days when we feel defunct or deficient in many ways but is the concept of reinvention, striving for that yet unobtainable you, is that really a healthy option? I recently read somewhere that we  shouldn’t be looking for the ‘new you’ but instead be accepting of the ‘you that you are.’ This may prove to be my biggest challenge for the year ahead.

I started this piece with an idea that I would write about what might be holding me back from seeking work next year. As has often been the case, the process of writing down my thoughts served to clear the pathway for me to take a few more steps ahead. Those steps just might not be going in the way I had first thought. If I stand still for too much longer, I am afraid that the creeping ivy of self doubt will entwine my feet to leave me forever rooted to the spot so I feel a growing sense of urgency to move soon, in one direction or another. For now though, I’ll pause to raise a glass this New Year’s Eve and make a toast to unknown destinations. Cheers everyone!

The Weight of Expectation

I find myself in show week again, which has happened twice a year since 2005. For those of you reading this who know me well, you will be used to hearing about how each show is going, what is going on behind the scenes to get the show ready and how I am feeling about whatever part I am playing in it. It is my norm every May and run up to December. You would think I had it all cracked then wouldn’t you?

Yet thanks to the influence of the ‘Perimenopause fairy’ I have found this run particularly difficult. Each show I have always had my role to play on stage alongside many tasks to complete as the show producer and often choreographer. Most years, although often stressful, I have felt in control and capable of meeting the demands that all of this has set for me. At this time last year, I recall writing a blog piece where I talked about standing on the stage waiting for the curtains to part and the show to start and feeling a sudden dread and urge to run offstage - far more than the usual stage fright that everyone in this strange world of drama experiences. I am wondering now if I shall feel the same again as I get to my cue.

Beyond that though, I have had a few problems along the way as this run has rumbled along. When trying to teach dance routines I have become easily flustered, often unable to quickly recall the next steps that I need to show the cast and as a result, felt low in self-confidence. My part this year is a main one and learning a sizeable amount of script has indeed been a challenge. It feels like I have been saying my lines over and over for months now and parts of them still elude me when the spotlight is on. I ask myself if I am getting too old for all of this?

We all have expectations of ourselves and when we feel that we cannot match up to them that is distressing at times. Then there are the expectations that others have of you and how that impacts upon them and your own self-esteem if you fall short of such expectations. As far as this show week goes, I don’t want to let down my fellow cast and my director who had the belief to cast me in the role. Talking to a friend this weekend about how we both feel, as we both have main parts in this show, it is apparent that we are both under pressure to meet the expectations of coming up with a good performance. Most strikingly though, is that we were both able to complement each other’s performances and yet were not able to see the merit within our own. Doesn’t human nature do that to us? We are blinded to the achievements that we are making and often unable to recognise just how far along a path we have managed to go.

I think my thoughts for this blog piece are also being coloured by my perceptions of what others think of me right now. Almost a year has passed since walking away from my job and I feel an expectation is hanging over me, one that I should move on from this cosy little career break and back into the world of work. After all, I have had the chance to dabble in the daydreams of a writer and to publish a couple of books that have found their way onto the bookshelves of a few friends here and there. I should probably tick that adventure off now.

Do we always do what is expected of us though? I wonder how much we make our choices in life through efforts, conscious or not, to meet these expectations. Do we do things we want to do or what we feel we are expected to do? I don’t have the answers to any of that and perhaps that’s the stuff of a high level philosophical debate. I do know that people are often quick to make their judgements of others and to say what they think is the best course of action for them to take. Each individual has their own set of circumstances surrounding their choices though and nothing in life is clear cut.

As for me and what I am expecting of myself at the moment, I have a few answers and a lot more evaluating to do. I may feel after the show that I should stick to doing everything as before or I may step away from some of it for a while - let’s wait and see. To be honest, that is probably a good attitude to adopt to more than just my role within a local drama group. To continue writing, to look for a job, to challenge myself in new directions, all of those need me to take time to consider further and I have to tell myself that I shouldn’t expect to have all the answers.

Back to School

This week has seen the annual proliferation across social media of first day at school shots of children standing somewhat nervously, somewhat excitedly, all smart in their uniforms and ready to go off for the new school year. I felt quite emotional about this last weekend as this is the first year that nobody in our house is following this pattern. Neither of my children are packing bags with arrays of coloured pencils and newly chosen lunch boxes and I too, after almost thirty years of being governed by academic calendars, am not returning to a classroom or office of folders, waiting for my attention to help the children whose names are contained within them.

Although removed from that immediate environment, the first week back at school makes itself known in other little ways to the wider community. There are certain times of the day to avoid walking the dog in the park, when it would be busy with the newest intake to the local high school letting off steam on their way home, slinging off their heavy school bags to snack and chat with each other. My husband’s morning journey to work has become more crowded and taken longer than it did each day over the summer break, so he is back to factoring in more time for his morning routine. Just being out and about for a walk or to pick up a few groceries, there seems a renewed purpose to people as they travel to or from school, or pick up placatory treats on their way home for tired and not-so-tidy uniformed children who will want to chill out and play rather than settle to some homework after their long day of listening and following rules.

I think all of that gives a little context to my unsettled feelings this week. I thought I had adapted to this writing life, after all, I have been doing this now since Christmas. A discussion with my daughter last Saturday showed how similar we both are. She said that she felt like she wanted to be buying new stationery, even though she has no need of it, just because she used to like shopping for it and planning for the work ahead. I have always been a lover of new stationery too, even my writing now is still divided between laptop and notebook – part of the joy of writing is the physical act of letting your ink flow across the blank page and then selecting a new, funky notebook to begin the process all over again once the current book is full. My writing notebooks have become like sketchbooks to an artist and I am now half-way through my second one this year. A glimpse inside the covers and you would quickly see what I mean, not neat at all, jumbled notes, some even scrawled up the margins but nevertheless meaningful to me at the time.

I mention this stationery fetish as it is connected to that need to plan for what is ahead, to embark upon a new term, to give yourself something new to boost your mood so that you can continue with a renewed energy. Last week’s blog ‘Fairy dust and wishes’ talked about my determination to manage the part I have been given in our drama group’s pantomime, by setting myself goals to achieve – fitness, weight loss and learning lines etc. For me, the new school year was always a moment for personal reflection where I would think about what I wanted to achieve in the academic year ahead, what I might do differently this time round. I guess that is why I have been asking myself similar questions recently.

I have a new writing project in the pipeline and have been working on that almost every day for a few weeks now, giving both it and myself the structure that is needed to make purposeful strides forward. I also face a challenge connected to my writing. This month I am due to lead a talk about my journey into writing and publishing my book and some of the issues covered within the content of it – menopause, mental health, self-help and empowerment. Planning for this event, takes me back to times when I prepared training sessions for fellow teachers or presentations to support talks to parents. The difference, I suppose, is just the context. Whilst I have the skill set required to lead a discussion and I know the content from first-hand experience as, after all, it is my story, it will feel strange to introduce myself as an author.

I am not going back to school this year, in all honesty I do not think I shall return to school in future years – not in a professional capacity anyway. Yet this month still feels like a new beginning for me, reminiscent of all the new terms that I faced. I am growing into my new ‘author uniform,’ I am working out my own timetable and rules and if I need to, I may even get myself some new stationery.

Aged five or six, at my first primary school in Heston, Middlesex.

Fairy Dust and Wishes.

We have just started rehearsals at our drama group and this year I am playing the part of the evil fairy in our version of Sleeping Beauty. I am beginning to embrace the opportunity and the challenge of this, after initially being more than a little hesitant to accept the part. Deep down I knew that it was a part that I would love to do but my midlife head was telling me all the reasons why it would be better played by a younger member of the cast. One who might sing better, look better in a fairy costume and remember the lines better - there are a lot to learn and forgetfulness seems to be creeping into my everyday recently. I don’t think a quick wave of my fairy wand will solve that or have the power to slim me down into an acceptable fairy size, so I will just have to resort to taking on the hard work to achieve it all without magic.

My daughter soon turns eighteen which will mean that both of my children are adults. Old enough to face the scary world out there, and at the moment it seems scarier day by day. My job of protecting them from all of that feels now redundant and the fairy dust that I used to sprinkle liberally around the house on birthdays is gone (as truth be told, I was the birthday fairy all along.)

Yet don’t we spend our whole lives as parents wanting to wave a magic wand to keep on protecting our children, and I’m guessing in time, our grandchildren? We have very little power to do so, especially as they have grown up, and we can really only be around for as long as we’re given the privilege of doing so, to advise if they’ll listen but to allow them to make their own way in the world. Be that good or bad, we can but watch sometimes and offer a support when they need it. Letting them go can feel like watching a fledgling trying to take flight, with all the dips and swoops before soaring off into the distance. I can but hope that both of my children will soar, even if the process may take some time to achieve.

Returning to the question of whether I can measure up to the part I have been given, I have repeatedly told myself that I need to tie up all my doubts and leave them at home in a corner, when I go off to rehearse each week and definitely not let them loose during show week. So what of the challenges that I mentioned? Well both seem significant and so I have decided to use that well-spun strategy of breaking down what appears to be a huge task into smaller, hopefully more manageable chunks. I think it is actually good for me to have a personal challenge, both physically and mentally, to keep me moving forward positively.

The ‘fairy size’ question - well, how big is a fairy? Have you ever actually seen one? In reality, I need to fit into a costume. There’s my challenge - I lay down the gauntlet, to feel comfortable in my costume. I am actively looking to up my steps and level of physical activity each day so that I might achieve this in time for show week. Eat less crap, walk faster, start a fitness workout at home (safe from cynical gym eyes) and possibly, if confident enough, go for a swim a few times too.

The mental challenge does worry me, if I’m being totally honest. There are a lot of lines and also song lyrics to learn and some days I can’t even remember why it was that I walked into a room! Anyway, split it into chunks. Sometimes if we have a whole mountain in front of us and we look up at the vastness of it all, it is too difficult to move, too overwhelming. But every journey starts with one step. I have already started learning the lyrics and I will try to practice what I preached during my teaching career - don’t leave it all to the last minute to complete your homework. I shall attempt to spread it out in the hope that a drip-feed approach works.

I could have refused the part and taken a step back but then I know I would have been wondering what if and regretting having done so. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how we only really regret the things in life that we didn’t do. Even though challenges may feel difficult at the time, perseverance gives us a will to achieve them, plus a lot of support from those around us. I heard a phrase the other day that has stuck with me:

 “Without effort there is never any real reward.”

This may take some effort but my reward will be when my lines are drowned out by booing, excitable kids who I can shake my fairy wand at. Perhaps there is still a use or two for my fairy dust.

Too shy, shy...

This week I am doing something a little different with my blog as I am starting with words that are not my own. Words that struck a chord and prompted me to explore the subject further. I was sent this, from a follower of my blog: 

“I was thinking have you done a blog about shyness? I was thinking about how I was quite a shy person which I know it might be hard to believe now. What is being shy? Is it misinterpreted? Is it a lack of confidence in yourself or just who you are? I know deep down when thrown into some situations that shy girl reappears but more and more I find the voice to speak up or is that confidence? Can becoming more confident make you overcome being shy?”

This got me thinking about all the children that I have taught over the years that one might label as ‘shy.’ Often they were girls and knowing what I know now about certain special needs, for some there may have been something deeper underlying their behaviour, their perceived lack of confidence. Putting that to one side though, there are always some people in a group who are the shy ones, the ones choosing to be at the edges of the conversation, first to sit at the back of a room in an attempt not to be noticed. Are they anxious about doing so or just happier not to be in the spotlight.

My husband has completed the ‘Myers Briggs’ questionnaire as a work exercise which analyses where a person falls upon the introvert - extrovert scale and looks at how each functions best. In an ideal business environment a workforce requires a balance of people for each type brings its own qualities. I think it is good to remind ourselves that silence doesn’t mean that a person has nothing to say. A shy person may have the best ideas in the room and it is how they are enabled to share them that is important.
In my book, I look at my own confidence and how I have had significant dips in that and how I’m trying to keep on rebuilding it. I use the quote about age, paraphrased eloquently by David Bowie: 

“ageing is an extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been.”

It’s certainly true that age and experience of life both bring a certain level of increased confidence. I look back to attending training courses and speaking in front of parents as a young teacher and how nervous I would get and where I chose to sit to hide. Since then I became the one who would scribe the ideas and feedback during group tasks and stand out front to lead curriculum evenings or staff meetings with a learnt confidence. Yet, as the ‘guest blogger’ noted, certain situations can still trigger the former shyness experienced as a child. I suppose it is more likely to be the times that we move out of our comfort zone.

For me, the age-related confidence boost has had the flip-side brought into focus by peri-menopause. Each time that gives you a slap to dent your confidence it can become harder to stand up the next time and there are times that you have to dig deep to stick at it and not run for the hills. The more I have researched for my writing, the more I am aware of just how many previously confident and capable women are out in the workplace, doubting their abilities and working hard not to be those little shy girls.

In a few weeks’ time, due to a post shared on my Linkedin Profile, I have been invited by a London-based media company to talk to their 'women in the workplace' group about the process of writing my book and how that and this blog emerged as positives from the place I found myself in, losing confidence in my abilities but finding an outlet in writing about my thoughts and feelings. The easiest response to such an invitation would have been to politely decline and then regret doing so as a missed opportunity. So instead, I have accepted and am pushing myself to talk about all that has been the focus of my writing this last year, to step out of my comfort zone and to be part of a dialogue with other women, hopefully all finding support by doing so. It is great to see that companies are slowly getting on board with finding ways to support women and as a cause close to my heart, it is important that I step up to offer my ideas within such a context. When that morning arrives, I will be channelling thoughts of the times that I have successfully led presentations, meetings and difficult discussions to tell myself that I can do this so that I can leave the shy girl at home that day.

Shyness, confidence, anxiety - I am not sure where the definitions and the lines between each are drawn. I am not sure that really matters either. Sometimes the loudest person in the room can also be the most insecure too. Human nature is a complex beast and I think we all hide the personality traits that we aren’t comfortable with. How many times do we scan a room and make snap judgements about the people within it? How many times do we overthink our own participation within a work or social situation? Perhaps we should cut ourselves some slack and allow our inner child a space once in a while without the need for apology.

This picture was taken back in the 1980s: confident or shy? You decide...

 

A Cartwheel or Two?

When is the last time that you cartwheeled to work? As you walk your daily route, do you find yourself breaking into a parody of the iconic dance to ‘Bring me Sunshine,‘ established by Morecombe and Wise? I’m guessing that’s a collective sigh and a resounding ‘no’ all round with possible questions in your mind of where is she going with this today. I should explain.
I have just seen both of these on two different corners, each executed by a girl in their summer school dresses, making their respective ways to school. As I drove past, the unfolding scenes brought a smile to my face and I thought about the carefree nature of them. Both girls were old enough that school will represent a tangible workload so in effect is their workplace and it just got me thinking about our working lives and wondering when we start to lose our exuberance of youth.

I don’t recall ever cartwheeling along the street but I used to do so in the park or my back garden without a second thought. It’s one of those skills that I wouldn’t put on my CV but if asked to demonstrate, I am guessing that I would still believe I could and then be sorely disappointed with the results. I imagine it would be like a silly moment I had in a friend’s garden last year when I acted upon a random impulse to roll down the incline of her lawn to find that I am definitely not as physically supple as I used to be.They say that once you know how to ride a bike, you never forget. That phrase does not take into account the physical and mental changes that can creep in with age - the adjustments to your core balance and your inner confidence. Then again, is it all a matter of perception? I haven’t ridden my bike in years, I feel that if I did I would wobble off - akin to some comic character, but I might just surprise myself.

These two schoolgirls took no account of others perceptions as they cartwheeled and danced down the road. They had no lack of inner confidence in expressing themselves in this way. Perhaps they both had something exciting happening at school today, or they’re both just having a positive day, or they just do that sort of thing all the time. I need to start having more dancing days and random moments when a metaphorical cartwheel would be the go to choice to make. I have had a few weeks recently when I have been sliding and allowing the dark corners of my mind to take hold a little. I have found myself overthinking- sometimes even the simplest aspects of my day. It has coincided with me feeling like I have lost my way a little, as I have made some readjustments to my usual responsibilities within my drama group and also fallen out of the writing habit. Again I find it interesting to reflect upon my need to write regularly. The words did not flow for a while and so I did not try and then I doubted that they would ever flow again. Recognising that I was struggling, my husband encouraged me to talk about it and the last few days our snatched moments of conversation, in between the mundane and the necessary, have been about strategies to move forward. Again, he has been right. He set me a challenge to get up at least once a week and start writing, doing nothing else first.

It is the routine of a writing habit that I need, even if much of what I write ends up amounting to nothing. When you have a purpose and a defined role you can follow your direction and notice the details along your pathway. Writer’s block, hormonal trickery and continuing to juggle some of life’s curve balls combined into a heady mix last week. I thought about stopping my blog and all my writing actually. I questioned my ability to take on the part that I have been allocated in our current drama run and considered stepping off the stage this time. I was unsure how to pick myself up and keep walking. I kept most of that to myself and my inner monologue- the one that usually plays out complicated scenarios in the early hours as I wrestle with the familiar insomnia beast. But if I just stopped everything, where would that leave me? The suggestion of a friend to take a break from writing struck a chord and I asked myself why. What am I writing for and who am I writing for? Well, we all have an ego and mine has undeniably been massaged by a handful of book sales and positive reviews that is obviously true. However, it is clear that the book sales will remain a handful, there is no magical international best seller waiting to emerge from my laptop at any time soon, but I knew all that going into this writing thing.

Many years as an Early Years educator have shown me that it is the process and not the product that counts and I should really be aware of that. After all we all have the same destination, it’s the journey we make through life to get there that is important. I should keep writing because it is an outlet and possibly my self-help therapy. I am writing because I have relaxed about it again and I shall keep on writing because I have found something to say and I know that a few people want to read it. These are the things that I need to keep telling myself when my mood dips, when I question myself about my role and whether anyone would notice or be bothered if I stopped writing or stopped drama. If it would matter to me, then that’s all that should matter. I have to stop looking for external endorsement and just cartwheel when I need to - or at least take a graceful waltz around the garden.

And Relax...

I feel my inner mermaid stirring. Sat upon a sandy, Cornish beach in June, I am afforded a precious view of the sun glistening upon the sea. I could attempt to paint an image for you with some well-chosen words as my brushes but it is one of life’s moments that cannot be replicated well second-hand. Suffice to say, the sights and sounds all add to the calm that slowly emanates from deep within.

I guess it must be there all the time, waiting to disperse throughout my being like a soluble aspirin, fizzing its bubbles of tranquility to achieve a state of calm or perhaps the more popular word now is zen.Yet, in my everyday world, the one of daily routine, I don’t allow the fizz to take hold. The first signs of a bubble of calm and there’s a queue of reasons waiting to pop into my mind, to tick off the list of chores, to kick start the cycle of overthinking, doubting my abilities and denting my self-confidence. With all that going on, even in the quietest of environments it is going to be difficult to switch off and start the calming process. In actual fact, I started writing this piece two days ago and could not get past the opening paragraph. Despite having my perfect writing environment- a sea view balcony and a glass of wine- the words would not flow and my mind could not settle. I asked myself why? Why, when on a holiday that I have looked forward to for months, in a place I have dreamed of returning to for a few years, could I not allow myself to switch off and truly relax? I don’t have the psychological qualifications necessary to answer that or to unpick all that is going on in my overthinking head and through my writing.

Today though, I am back on that beach, with my senses stimulated by all that a beach day encompasses and I am writing again. The sun is heating my arm as I write, the sound of the sea forms a backdrop to my thoughts and all around I can see blue. Blue sky, blue waves, just blue. The colour of calm and tranquility I think and certainly evocative of mermaids. I close my eyes and let the image of a mermaid lagoon develop and permeate the corners of my mind. I try to place myself within it, with long, flowing hair and a glittery fish tail. It seems that imagination and being at one with nature is a powerful combination. I can feel that my heart rate has slowed and deep breaths take me further into this current state of tranquillity. If only I could bottle this and keep it on a shelf to take out and use for emergencies. I could keep it in the bathroom medicine cabinet alongside the painkillers and alka seltzer.

A friend messaged me to say that she hoped I was managing to properly relax on my holiday.  It’s been six months now that I have not been at work, others may have assumed that the need for such relaxation was unnecessary and that surely I got to do it all the time now anyway. It hasn’t felt that way at all because even though I may not go out to work, I still have things to do, a routine still forms. I guess everyone’s everyday can consume them at times and we all need a break from our ‘routine’, whatever that routine might look like. I certainly felt the need for it.

One of my earliest blogs attempted to describe my struggles with self-doubt and feeling easily overwhelmed as being ‘confined by my cage of confidence.’ I know that I have made great strides forward from that point but the last couple of weeks I have found myself to be overthinking a lot. Wary of allowing that cage to start constructing itself again, I have truly needed this holiday and the space and time to stop the cogs whirring around. Being drawn into overthinking can feel like falling down a hole and I’ve been struggling to find myself some footholds. Whilst I recognise that this is happening and I know all the strategies I should use to stay positive, a few inches falling down can feel like I have spiralled many feet.

Perhaps it is because I have been wrapped up in projects that have now met their deadlines that I now find myself a little like driftwood cast upon a shifting tide, to maintain the sea metaphors. Certainly the first months of this year I became absorbed in writing my book, then whilst attempting to make all the right decisions in regard to editing and publishing it, I was simultaneously writing and editing a script. Now I feel a little in limbo and in need of a new focus and direction. I draw myself back to my surroundings and find that the tide has gone out to reveal a beautiful rock pool, the size of my metaphorical mermaid lagoon. Though I don’t have a mermaid outfit to wear, this cool pool, out of reach of the frantic everyday draws me close. My daughter joins me and we tiptoe in, ignoring the initial reactions to the cold until we get to the point where we are brave enough to dip our shoulders in.

From that point on, I have hit the zone – I am relaxing. Together, my daughter and I swim around, laugh and float in the pool. At that moment, I embraced the holiday, I valued the luxury of being able to spend time with family and I gave myself permission to take a break and to wait to see what happens when the writer’s block disappears. My daughter wants us to build our own lagoon in our back garden when we return home. I must admit to seeing the attraction but then again, I have always found a draw to water, something about the sea that touches me and allows me to find an inner calm. When things get tough again, as I am sure they will, when the spiraling starts, I need to tell myself to think of this moment. One simple moment of calm when I could be whoever I want to be.

The Path to Happiness?

I am almost at the end of my writing journal and it is now six months since I left teaching. I have flicked back through the pages of my journal with a wry smile as my eye catches some of the quotes pasted within. It is interesting to see how many strike a chord with me now. Where I stand now, with a book published, a new script written and perhaps most importantly, an acceptance of myself within the new parameters of the life I have now set up. Perhaps the most pertinent of these quotes is this -
“If you want something you never had, you have to do something you’ve never done.”

This year has felt like quite a lot of doing things that I’ve never done and sometimes that has been very difficult. Who do we turn to when faced with a hurdle, or at times a brick wall? As a child there was always a parent or teacher around to explain and to help you over an obstacle. There always had to be that delicate balance established between helping you to think around a problem and solve it and not to step in and do everything for you so that you were no longer required to think. Resilience and problem solving are strands that we are in danger of losing in the current educational landscape but that discussion would form content for a lengthy piece, not accommodated here. Needless to say, skills learnt as a child in these areas will reap their own rewards in the long term when times are hard as an adult.

As adults we are mostly expected to know what we are doing and it can feel wrong to admit that we don’t and it can be a challenge to push ourselves out of our comfort zone. During my teaching career my philosophy was always that learning should be a habit that you adopt for life. I have certainly had to learn a lot in the past six months.
Change is always unsettling, often scary, but without change there is no personal growth. Keeping the status quo, having all remain the same becomes mundane and dulls the senses to the richer details of life.

When the changes we face are significant, we need support to stand up and keep going sometimes. I am back now to thinking of that balance that I mentioned. Support can be a word of encouragement, advice from another who has more experience or a push to stop deliberating and to commit to a course of action. At different times this year I have received all of these and some days it has not felt good to hear it but it was necessary.

Feeling that I have accomplished a lot in a relatively short space of time, a friend asked me this week what I was going to do next. My response was ‘Rest, think, and write some more.’ Although this reply focuses upon my chosen writing direction, I am also thinking about other areas where I am yet to achieve - other things I have never done. What would be on your bucket list? When pushed to go for it, I wonder which I could manage to achieve. I am still wrestling with the idea of getting a seahorse tattoo. I have places that I have always wanted to visit, including Canada, New Zealand and Italy. I would love to conquer my fear of heights and ride in a hot air balloon or take a cable car up a mountainside. It would be fantastic to choreograph a dance routine for a theatre show and see it all performed in full costume. As with all challenges, all tasks that seem insurmountable, it is best to focus upon the first step. Every journey, even the longest hike, starts with that first step. Who knows where those first steps may lead me to?

Chasing my Thoughts

Ideas for these blog posts come to me at the most random times. This morning, as I lay in bed going through a particularly long mental checklist of all to be done, the tasks ahead swirl around and merge into words to write instead. In my mind it looks a little like that point when you have thrown all your ingredients into the bowl and have begun to stir them together and they slowly change from separate entities into a silky cake batter, ready to be poured into the tin and baked. Has that got you craving a home baked cake now? I’ll have to add baking to today’s list of tasks.
This last week or two I have been in some dark places, probably for several reasons, but mainly because I felt unequal to the task that lay before me - that of publishing my book. If I had thought about the process of completing a book at the start of this year, I would have focused on the difficulties of writing it. The thought of sitting with a blank page and waiting for some inexplicable magic to happen so that the void becomes full of imagery and meaning - that was my main concern. Now though, I have found that the process of what to do with a completed manuscript is far more complex than I could ever have imagined.
Talking to my son about it during a rare moment where we sat together in the garden with a coffee, I described myself as chasing my thoughts. Right now I can see a run of stepping stones leading from an open lawn, through a rose-trimmed archway into an unknown corner of the garden. There’s a promise of a hidden delight in the corner but brambles and overgrown branches provide to make the journey treacherous. My thoughts have rushed ahead of me, trying to reach their destination but I am left taking cautious steps and sometimes this week, rendered helpless and unable to move at all.
I have discovered that there are three stages to creating a book - writing, editing and publish. Although that sounds like I’m stating the obvious, I had never really contemplated how much effort each of those takes. I won’t bore you with the details and complexities of it all here, suffice to say that each has been a challenge, a sharp learning curve and emotionally draining. Perhaps the inside cover of the finished product should read “this book has caused laughter, tears and many sleepless nights.”
Finding myself struggling with the final hurdles this week, my finger hovered over the delete button on the keyboard. In that fleeting moment I thought that deleting the file, denying all knowledge of the book’s existence would bring me some sort of peace. It would take away the pressure to make decisions. That is the real struggle identified right there - the ability to make decisions. Is the menopause to blame for where I currently find myself with this? Have I just fallen into this state of indecisiveness, driven by overthinking and a lack of confidence, as a measure of my age or the cumulative effect of stress over the last few years?
I usually find it best not to ask such questions for I’m never going to find a definitive answer. Faced with many important questions to answer and decisions to make, I felt alone.
In the last couple of years I have felt my grip on capability slide. I used to take multitasking in my stride, lead meetings with expertise and walk on stage confidently. Now I procrastinate. I overthink. I doubt. I ask myself where the woman that I used to be has gone. These are the sort of thoughts that chase around my head and when at their worst cause me to spiral.
There used to be a helter-skelter ride back on my childhood holidays on the Isle of Wight. I can recall climbing up the twisting staircase with my mat in hand that I then tentatively placed down at the top of the slide. As I perched upon the mat and held its handles on either side, I would take a sharp intake of breath before committing to the twirling ride back down to the bottom. I felt stuck this week, it was like that moment at the top of the slide. I could commit and twirl down ready to run back up again or perhaps this time, I might shoot right off the slide and plummet spectacularly down.
I found a quote at this point, just when I needed it to move forward -
“Keep going, you did not come this far, just to come this far.”
I gave myself permission to admit that it was okay to feel overwhelmed and out of my depth. I asked for help. I persevered. My husband asked me what it was that I was afraid of and then helped me to look at one step at a time. Sometimes you have to stop thinking and start doing. I’m going to wear my red outfit today, not just my sassy red shoes. Today I am determined to finalise the publishing of my book. That deserves a red outfit and lipstick, look out everyone I’m putting my thoughts aside today and tackling my list. Let’s do this!

My book cover photo - 'Finding My Way' (now available via Amazon as a paperback or on Kindle.) 

Lotions, Potions and Defying Gravity

This blog title came to me as I reached for my jar of face cream and contemplated just how many creams and lotions I have started to apply in recent years. As I have slid into my fifth decade - let’s label it “my 50s: the polyfilla years!” - I have become more aware of the work that needs doing to maintain some sort of worthwhile body image.

Rarely one to wear makeup, always one to choose the throw on an outfit and quickly run a brush through your hair route, I now find that I am having to work much harder to maintain my appearance and striving to develop the necessary skills to achieve this. Being currently between viable hairstyles, I can no longer sport the bouncy curls of last year’s perm, yet there’s still enough of a persistent kink in many strands of hair to necessitate a whole hair care regime that I am not used to. A sharp learning curve accompanying the routine of washing, conditioning, applying product, drying and straightening every single time before leaving the house, has left me feeling reliant upon my daughter’s patient support and uncanny knack with the straighteners. Whilst bemoaning my lack of skills to a friend recently I exclaimed in an exasperated fashion that “I’m just no good at being a girl!”

It is certainly true that so-called ‘girly things’ often leave me feeling out of my comfort zone, an aspect that I touched on in my previous blog ‘Sunshine and Spa Days.’ I’m not sure why that is exactly but I guess it is subconsciously linked to confidence and my body image issues. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always made an attempt at looking my best for a night out. With my body that’s taken some effort at times. Too short for many wardrobe choices and with breasts that started migrating south years ago, there’s some serious scaffolding required to defy gravity and many a time that the eye is tricked by relying on a splash of colour or a scattering of sparkle. After all I grew up with the stage message of “Razzle Dazzle ‘em” ingrained in my psyche from my years of dance classes.

Perhaps I have just woken up to the need to make more of an effort to make the best of what I have, as my perception of my body image has shifted over the past year or so? I’m still struggling to keep the weight off and to gather some momentum in keeping the numbers on the scale moving in a decreasing direction. Yet it has to be said that I have dropped dress sizes and changed my wardrobe choices along with that. Maybe it is more linked to my mental state - the confidence I have been working to build back up? As I have explored recently in my writing, a little effort in a clothing choice, a well-matched accessory or an effort to apply a sweep of eye shadow and a bit of lippy can have a positive impact upon my day.

I have never felt skilled in applying makeup, knowing any kind of beauty regime to follow, being adept at styling my hair. Being the short, fat girl I mostly felt that it didn’t matter, and being somewhat nondescript in those areas helped if I wanted to blend into the background. I made fashion choices that presented myself adequately and never more than that. Now within the limits of the clothing and makeup that I possess and the minimal skills base that I have, I am actively trying to present myself more positively. On a good day, makeup, shoes and accessories match. I have been moisturised and polished, straightened, plucked and clipped. Between the creams and lotions, the exotic fruit and plant extract fragrances could make a passer-by think that they’ve strayed into a branch of Lush! But isn’t it good to take care of yourself? On reflection I think this development is maybe just an extension of my self-imposed well-being programme. Taking care of my body and mind with my quest to exercise, keep positive, all with the overarching aim of trying to lower the stress that can seep into daily life at times. If it helps, then it has to be a worthwhile venture to continue, even if it takes a bit of time and effort to do so. Pass me my potions, Harry Potter has nothing on me!

Is it a Red Shoes Day?

Can a colour set your mood for the day ahead? Can one item in your wardrobe change the way you feel and have the power to make your confidence soar? That sounds a little far-fetched but I think there’s something to it. Certainly research has been done linking colours to behaviour and retail and hospitality industries have acted upon it. Just think of the colour schemes used by fast food chains in contrast to a lounge bar. As I write this I am sat in a cosy curved armchair in a hotel lounge, surrounded by shades of beige, brown and deep plum, all illuminated by the amber glow from strategically placed wall lamps. The expectation certainly appears to be that people would linger here, pause to sit and unwind and buy a drink or two at the bar that is fortuitously placed alongside.

Transferring the theory from our environment to the clothing we choose to add to our wardrobe, I am now thinking of a purchase I made last summer. In the scheme of things it was quite insignificant- one pair of red ballet pumps for the princely sum of £3 in Primark. Bright red - a bold colour, a bold choice for me and one I needed a nudge to buy. Though attracted to the shoes in the shop, I was deliberating whether to purchase them, believing that they might be indulgent or better worn by a younger woman. A friend’s encouragement helped me to make up my mind and once I started to wear them, their magic began to make its mark upon me. Red shoes on and it was a natural step to add a further splash of colour elsewhere- red lipstick, a red and pink handbag, a necklace or scarf and from there a growing confidence blossomed.

I think I grew up with the phrase ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ frequently used to pass negative comment upon a woman who chose not to dress in a way that society decided was befitting of her age. Looking back, different generations seemed to have quite distinct dress codes then and some of that certainly imprinted upon me. Some of the clothes I have worn as an adult have been quite frumpy and it is only in recent years that I have actively tried to address this. Losing weight has certainly made this easier and I am now choosing more fitted clothing and a brighter range of colours. In retrospect, trying to cover your lumps and bumps by wearing a dark coloured tent-like outfit was never fooling anyone and as for leggings, they have never done anyone a fashion favour. When you feel self-conscious about your size and ‘the you’ that you portray to the world, there is a certain safety in the comfort blanket of dark and shapeless clothing.

Taking the decision to wear my red shoes has gone from a ‘what might people think?’ option to a conscious ‘today is a red shoes day.’ What do I mean by that? Well, since leaving teaching I have found that there are days when I need to give myself a positive outlook, a confidence boost to step outside and meet up with friends, attend an appointment or just to show anyone who’s watching that I am in the room and I still have something valid to say. At such times, the seemingly small act of putting on my red shoes is a way of telling myself that I can do this, I matter and I have somewhere to be and an agenda to complete.

All the doubts of the red shoes and their purchase resurfaced last week when I was given a leather jacket to try on. Partly thrilled by the fact that it fitted, I looked at myself in the mirror with the overwhelming question of ‘how old do you think you are?’ Again I found myself seeking family and peer approval before feeling brave enough to wear it outside. Perhaps I shall have the same relationship with this item in my wardrobe as I did with my red shoes? Yes, they are both just material items but it is more than that, it is more about what they’re representing. I need to accept that whilst I am no beauty queen, I can still make an effort to look good. I am not too old to add a little style and a splash of colour to my look and if that’s what I need to do to feel more confident, then that’s a positive step that I should take. So whether I’m rocking a leather jacket look or striding down the street in my red shoes, look out because this woman means business and it’s about time that she knew it!

In Need of an M.O.T?

At the end of a particularly blustery day, following a week of true ‘March winds’, I sit in bed listening to the rain on the rooftop and reach for my writing journal. I feel that it is time to reflect and whilst there seems so much around us these days to cast shadows and narrow our horizons, I find myself taking stock of what I have to be thankful for. The large scary stuff can overwhelm us so easily but I have found that my daily habit of writing can provide that much needed outlet of escape – akin to turning the valve on a pressure cooker to release steam.

I often don’t know what is going to emerge as my pen hits the page but by the end of the process it has usually served a purpose, calmed my spirit and allowed the swirl of thoughts to subside momentarily. There have been a lot of thoughts taking a tumble around my mind recently – much like the odd bits of debris I saw tossed about by the wind today as I tried to walk the dog. I have had a few darker days this month, where those self-doubt seedlings have tried to take hold again. They can be as persistent as the weeds and brambles that annually try to choke the flower beds in our garden, giving us a renewed ambition to sort out the space and make something of our bit of nature ready for promised warmer days.

Looking at the work still to be done in the garden today, I noticed a couple of flowers emerging from the branches of a small magnolia tree that my mum bought for me as a birthday gift last year. I have long admired such trees each spring when passing their proud displays of flowers, so to have my own in a pot on our decking is a little joy to be thankful for. Yes, it is a simple thing but sometimes that is all we need to lift our chins and turn our faces back towards the sunlight.

This month has also brought its fair share of appointments for me – the medical ones that make you notice your age again. I have had a blood test to keep a check on my anaemia, ongoing physio with exercises to try to keep on top of on a daily basis and the anxious process of a mammogram waiting for me to finish off the month. There is something quite surreal about the small talk you share with a health professional as they are squashing your wayward breasts in a device that would look at home in a torture chamber and trying to recall how long you have had a particular mole and describe the usual appearance of your nipples. Still, it’s just one of those necessary evils of womanhood and better to have a moment of discomfort and keep all in check than to be oblivious to anything sinister coming along.

The physio exercises I am doing are helping my foot – as they were designed to do – but seem to be causing some transferred pain elsewhere and so I came to bed tonight with a throbbing calf muscle which I hope eases overnight. When I hobbled up two flights of stairs to reach my bed, it was easy to think that I was falling apart and added to my thoughts of feeling my age. I certainly feel as though I am having a sort of M.O.T and wonder how nice it would be if I could trade a few parts in for an upgraded model. A lift or tuck here or there maybe? Not really my way though, I have always thought that I should just work with what I have been given – even if some days there is quite a lot of work to be done.

With an M.O.T and service comes an oil change and a check of tyre pressures. Metaphorically speaking, I feel I would benefit from the same and have been mindful of necessary diet and exercise tweaks that I should be trying to make. On the pressure side, I am now in a place where I know when and how to take effective measures most of the time but I am also aware of the need to support my husband with this. As the weight of meeting the family finances has now fallen to him and the job demands have weeks where he is left looking very tired, our planned short break away next month can’t come soon enough.

They say a change is as good as a rest but sometimes change is by its very nature anything but restful. There have been a lot of changes to our home and family dynamic recently and we are all adapting. Within the context of a few days away, just as a couple, the change of pace and scene that brings will hopefully bring with it the rewards the mind and body reaps from a rest. Our break away has been made possible by the generosity of friends who purchased hotel vouchers for us as birthday gifts last year. It is also being realised because my children have promised to be pet and house sitters and have reassured us that all will be fine and to leave them to it. Let’s hope our trust is not misplaced.

A couple of days away may not sound like much but from previous experience, it can make a world of difference. There is that saying that ‘little things mean a lot.’ Thinking of all the little things we have around us that we should be thankful for and the odd possession that we may like to treasure, it is always the friends and family that I return to, that I value most. When days are dark, or the swirl of thoughts threatens to suck me in to a spiralling state, I can rely upon them to be my recovery service and they don’t even need to bring their van.

Sunshine and Spa Days.

This week has seen me trying something new, which may not seem like much to others but whenever you decide to have a new experience but you’re confidence levels are generally low, it can take a lot to face the unknown. Though this was to be a treat, a way to relax and unwind, I had never been to a spa or had a treatment and so did not know what to expect. A generous thought from a close friend, as a way to have some ‘me time’ - I was set to embrace this as a chance to escape the everyday and to switch off. So, with the odd anxiety about what would follow, we set off for the chance to swim, steam, read, relax and be spoilt with a facial.

As it turned out, I don’t know why I was even anxious about it, but perhaps it’s still those issues I have under the surface of having a poor body image or feeling that for some reason, I don’t deserve to be part of a luxurious lifestyle - if only for an afternoon. That is when you need the support of a husband who is telling you to go have fun and don’t worry about spending a little on yourself to make a nice memory. When you need the comfort of a friend going with you who you know won’t be judging what you look like in your swimsuit and who knows exactly how much you need the experience to just unwind from recent events.

Now a month into my writing adventure- the term I have chosen to call my career break, and I am slowly starting to get my head around my feelings about it and finding a way to organise my time, my responsibilities to family, the dog and the household. I have actually found that it is often half way through the afternoon and I think that I haven’t begun to write again and I wonder how I possibly juggled everything around going to work every day too. Friends ask how things are going and mostly I have positive answers. I have had some days when the outlook has seemed dark but generally, I feel that I am walking towards the sunshine. To do this, I have had to make readjustments in my expectations and so start to find my own way.

Back to the spa afternoon and it has to be said that there is a lot of merit in just doing something new and different. Laying in the darkened treatment room, with calming music playing to match the mood of relaxation, I felt a complete slowing down of both body and soul. Mindfulness has had a lot of press and at times seems a somewhat mocked buzzword but just being in that moment, I could almost imagine my worries and stresses wrapping themselves up in little packages and shipping themselves off to a far flung island. It is certainly an experience I would be happy to repeat.

Somehow, as a Mum, I seem to have been programmed into an inherent belief that there is no place for your own relaxation and self-preservation. Always quick to drop everything to come to the aid of my children or to help out friends or family, it is almost a guilty act to put all such demands on hold and indulge yourself in luxury.
However, having juggled commitments so that I could have that time, I not only found myself refreshed but more able to commit to my writing and to face the ongoing demands of my new daily life with renewed determination. The complete feeling of relaxation seeped through every pore and lasted into the next day, where I had a revelation, a writing revelation. With the mists of self-doubt clearing, I began to write and to enjoy reading back my offerings to the page.

I have a real writing project before me and a clear space to sit in to write it, surrounded by little comforts. Those objects you collect as a Mum that bring a warm memory to mind and a smile to the face. A pebble collected on a beach day with the children which they decorated for Daddy. A couple of favourite photos of the children from many years ago. A writing notice board with quotes and images to inspire and, if I am honest, a nod to the teacher that is still lurking within me for I always liked a board with plans on - just ask anyone that shared a classroom with me! I also have a selection of snazzy stationery nearby, as everybody knows that a writer needs stationery - it’s like a diamond for a diva, the sweet treats within a patisserie or the promise of a toy when you can choose something with the pocket money Grandma gave you clinking in your pocket.

Sitting in my writing space, with a newly found direction, I am at liberty to let the process flow. In recent weeks I have learnt to let this happen, often when walking the dog in the park and feeling the sunshine on my face I have had the best results. Though not able to actually write any of that down at that point in time, it is those moments of touching base with nature - away from the mundane, that the creativity has been sparked.

So I’m developing myself a writing habit and a lifestyle mantra, to help when days seem dark. Write something every day for to do so will eventually find a gem worth keeping. As for a determination to keep going, I have been served well by one quote shared with me by a friend that has truly touched a chord:

“Keep your face always toward the sunshine, and shadows will fall behind you.”

Walt Whitman

If I may be so indulgent to make my own interpretation, I must keep on having walks in the sunshine and another spa day or two.