Screen Time

Have you checked yours this week? My phone now gives me a weekly report as a measure of how much time I have spent and how productive it was too. Who would have thought that we would be willingly scolded for our choices by a handheld device that simultaneously makes us use it to tell us that we are using it too much? The irony. These little screens have seeped into so many aspects of our lives though and the data that is held about us is scary if we take a moment to consider it. Think back to a few decades ago and the very freedoms that were hard fought for then and predicted as a dark future by dystopian writers have become reality. 

Every time we click one of those seemingly fun quizzes on Facebook or allow access to a new app, we are willingly giving up personal details and our location, in fact we are often waving a big flag and shouting to all that we are currently away from our homes should anyone be interested, as we post stories and snaps of our days out and holiday adventures. Even our watches conjure up motivational messages or award a quality score on our sleep patterns and the number of steps we have made. Suffice to say, technology has seeped into all aspects of our lives through these screens. We have definitely opened the metaphorical ‘Pandora’s box’ and there is no turning back with it now.

Although I know all of this to be true, and somewhat resenting that fact, I find it hard to consciously move away from my screens. Now I have to rely upon them as a vehicle for my writing. Not only as the medium for creating written pieces but also where I have to trudge through the treacle-like experience of promoting that work, on all the social media platforms that exist through said screens. I have to accept that I need to use my laptop and my phone frequently but I am aware of how addictive this practice can become.

If you look away from your screen right now, the one you are using to view this, what do you see around you? Are you at home with other family members staring into their own devices? Perhaps, like me the other week, you are on public transport, crowded into a tube carriage with armpit odour as company or squashed on a bus with windows steaming up as the rain rivulets run down the outside of them. If so, I’m guessing a high proportion of your fellow travellers are engaged in their own screen time. Last week I stood in the High Street for a few minutes and just watched how many people were walking and screen watching at the same time, oblivious to their surroundings, some narrowly avoiding trip hazards. It conjured up a sci-fi plot where all inhabitants of a future earth are born with a phone screen instead of one of their hands, but I digress.

Recently at a hair appointment, I had to check my phone for a text message from a family member and I started talking about this very subject with my hairdresser. She brought up an interesting point, which is what really got me thinking about this blog post. Her bugbear, as she described it, is when she has made arrangements to meet with someone for coffee or lunch and the first thing they do is to put their phone alongside them. They then continue the time being distracted throughout, glancing at what floats across the screen and not giving full attention to the social meeting that both parties had signed up for.

It made me stop and think. How often have I done that? Does that mere act signify from the start that I am not fully committed to the occasion and the people that I am with? Perhaps it does. It is certainly something to think about. I need to work on separating my social and relaxation time and activities from my ‘work’ related ones. Keep my phone in the bag when I am spending time on the first of those, so that I can fully engage in them. Just as I have previously extolled the virtues of being in the moment, usually connected in my mind to being outside, close to nature, it is true that I should devote the same courtesies to connecting with the people in my life.

That all sounds fine and uplifting but I guess I am not alone in thinking of times when I have been the only one to put away the phone and to look around to see everyone else glued to theirs. Some evenings in our house, the television is on whilst every family member is either tapping on their phone screen or engaged in a screen activity on a tablet. Still, I guess we can all start somewhere. I can put away my screen and start a conversation, one where we actually look at each other too. It is all too easy to talk with our thumbs, to tap away and be drawn into screen chats, emojis and gifs. There's a lot of research out there about the negative effects of screen time, about the wisdom of putting screens out of sight for a while before bedtime, perhaps I need to take all of that more seriously. I am going to make a conscious effort to reduce my screen time. How about you? I wonder how many people can you actually engage with today. There’s my challenge, but don’t put your answer on social media!

Silence is Golden

Is that really the case? That very much depends upon the context. In current times the moves to promote speaking out about an injustice, saying no to anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or speaking up to show a courage to ask for help- all of these are without question, a commendable course of action to take. My thoughts are concerned with the many moments as a wife, mother, daughter or friend when I have chosen to be silent. Silent when it feels the hardest thing to be but when to say something would bring hurt or unhappiness to another or would simply solve nothing by being pointed out to those involved. I have not always been able to maintain this and all too easily, a few words slip and are instantly regretted for the fallout that ensues.

With so much in the public domain now and a plethora of social media platforms available to us all, silence is a fast evaporating commodity. The spread of a few comments on Facebook or similar is the technologically heightened version of cruel playground gossip and all too easy to become swept up in. When is the last time you felt the need to bite your tongue? I have been learning the value of doing so, much more as I grow older. Family dynamics can require careful balancing and I am still not the best placed person to extol the virtues of silence in that regard but I do need to learn. There are some things that need to be said and airing what we really feel, though hurtful or difficult at the time, can ultimately lead to us all being in a better place. Then there are things that we all may actually know but it does no-one any favours in actually saying any of it out loud.

What about the times when you know something about a friend but you cannot share it? I expect we all make judgment calls all the time and much of this will depend upon how much you as a person revels in a bit of gossip. It’s worth noting though, that for all the gossip and information a person tells you about another, you can be reassured that you will be the feature of at least as many talking points when you have left the room. Those who are the ring masters in the circus of gossip are often adept at juggling - balancing just enough information to give each individual to make them feel part of the game without revealing too much of themselves. But juggling is a skill that takes time to develop and the more balls you add, the more risk there is of dropping one.

Without becoming caught up in specific details, for that in itself would be to start painting with a gossip brush, there are times when I have overheard a comment or glimpsed part of a message on a group chat obviously not intended for my eyes as a nearby phone lights up. Though not setting out to discover what someone really thinks about another or quite believing how unkind an off guard comment can be, once you know something you can’t un-know it. That is the point at which you make your judgement call and when silence can indeed be golden. To pass on the comment or confront the person who was making it would be options with consequences that may well be far reaching. Better to keep quiet and to learn from it - knowing that your judgement of another may now be coloured by the incident but moving on, nevertheless.

In the past, when different circumstances combined to make life particularly tricky, there were times when I would stand in the shower and cry. Some days I felt that I had nobody to talk to and so the confines of the shower cubicle were the only space to let it out. Silence about my feelings was not golden and in hindsight not the best option to have taken but it was probably necessary as I was processing what was happening to family members.

Now that I am in a place that I feel I can move out of the shower cubicle and am more relaxed about sharing my thoughts and even crying in front of those I trust. Still there is a balance needed, isn’t there? I don’t always choose to tell it like it really is - who wants to be that friend or family member who is always negative? Those who know me well enough, know that sometimes silence or that stock answer that all is fine, are both mechanisms employed until such time as I will be ready to talk about it. They also know to balance when to give me the space to process thoughts and when to push me to break a silence so that I can really say how I feel as let’s face it, we all know that ‘fine’ is code for all is far from fine. 

Relationships are a complex entity with many facets, some of the hidden ones only starting to reveal themselves after many years. Scratch beneath the superficial and a solid relationship - romantic or platonic - will have those hidden depths. Thirty years into knowing my husband and we’re still discovering these depths as we have come to rely upon each other’s strengths when faced with a bump in life’s road. The trade off for all the down sides of ageing is hopefully an increased wisdom and a fine tuning of trusting your judgement. A judgement of when to speak up and when to have the strength to rise above it all and let your silence speak volumes. I’m still working hard at following the path to wisdom, how about you?

Just Keep Swimming

To be a parent is at times akin to taking on the properties of a length of elastic. Often being pulled simultaneously in different directions there can be days when you feel that one end or the other is going to reach the point when it all snaps or at the very least, is stretched incredibly thin. Mostly we reform ourselves each day, back into working order, like a durable elastic waistband holding everything up. But what about the odd days when we have frayed too much, snapped and all falls down to reveal your metaphorical undies?

This week a friend reached out to me for advice during one such time when the demands of parenthood felt all too overwhelming for her, asking me what you should do when all you can give did not seem enough. It made me think. Being a parent is a permanent thing and more often than not it is the best job in the world. Yet at our lowest points, when we can feel that all around us might be judging our decisions, it can be a thankless and lonely task.

I have often got it wrong and continue to do so. I in no way have all the answers but I suppose I at least have a track record. With over twenty years of being a parent, you gain some perspective and at least a bank of experiences to draw upon – be they good or bad in the results that they achieved.

Growing up is a complex adventure and making adjustments as a parent to the relationship that you have with your children as they grow up, is also complicated. The phrase ‘they will always be your babies’ may well hold a truth in that you will always feel the need to be reassured that they are safe, happy and supported in their lives. Adjusting how you do this takes some effort, so that their independence and identity is not stifled but that your own well-being is not compromised by being taken for granted or by always playing second fiddle to the tune that they call.

Our house has grown over the years to accommodate our needs by which I mostly mean our children’s hobbies and associated paraphernalia, but really I suppose I mean to accommodate spaces for us all. With my daughter fast approaching a milestone birthday, we will soon officially have four adults in our house – and many days when this number is added to as friends drop in frequently. We are fortunate to have a comfortably-sized house but within that it has been important to carve out spaces for us to escape. Sometimes to escape each other for a while, sometimes to escape the world, the pressures of work or the decisions to be made.

Thinking back to the call for help mentioned earlier – there was much tied up within it about the need for space. Giving yourself space as a parent to pause from juggling all the balls at once, to tell yourself that it is okay to drop the balls some days. Busy families and busy working lives can leave us drained emotionally and it is important to give ourselves the space to step back from it all, to ask for advice, or to block out an hour or two from it all to drink coffee, eat cake and giggle about random shared experiences.

None of us truly know what others are going through or what they may be coping with on a daily basis. Many take on the appearance of a graceful swan and look for all the world as if they are gliding through life majestically without a worry. Onlookers do nto see how furiously hard the feet are paddling beneath the murky pond waters just to keep on course. As parents we see those other swans and can feel like an ugly duckling in comparison but we all have our water ways to navigate.

Before pausing my life to write, my teaching career gave me many experiences to draw upon as a parent. Strategies that worked for behaviour management or in supporting a child’s needs in school could often be mirrored or adapted at home with my own children. However, it doesn’t always work that way. We all know how differently children can appear to be within the two contrasting environments of home and school. General, everyday parenting I gained confidence in. When life becomes complicated by changes, additional needs, moving on to new phases as your children grow – then I could be left floundering around looking for answers. When you feel like you’re getting it wrong with your own children, there is an incredible pressure to resolve it, a guilt that you have made a wrong decision, a need to make things right with the world just as it was when a simple baby cuddle was all that was needed.

All of that has to contribute to the pressure being put on that elastic. It’s good to know who you can rely on at such times, to remind you that you are doing a good job. Keep on paddling, swans, you’ve got this.

Playing at Being a Grown-Up

I feel conflicted, I feel torn, not knowing where my focus of energy should be. I see a pebble on the beach that’s just out of reach, it’s glinting in the sunlight as the waves lap over it. Proving too elusive to grasp, staying tantalisingly just out of reach, this pebble is symbolic of my desire to write. To write for a purpose beyond the familiarity of my comfort zone: my blogging, script writing and the odd poem when the mood takes me.

I don’t know how to answer when people ask me what I am doing. Officially I suppose the answer is taking a career break, though currently it feels that this may have no end as thoughts of returning to the rat race of a work environment trigger an inner panic, a rising unease whenever I attempt to confront the idea, so it would seem that I am not yet in the right place to move forward with this. 

I have made a decision to write, though telling anyone that I am being a writer seems wrong. What is it that prevents me from doing so? I’m certainly not in a position to be earning money from my writing and so is that the crux of it? Do I see the term writer as only appropriate for a commercially viable option? Having spent years nurturing my children into the belief that the creative process is what’s important and not the outcome - why is it that I cannot accept this for myself?

Perhaps the career path I had was so driven by targets that I feel at sea to be ungoverned by these, to be adrift in a world where I may or may not write and may or may not achieve a written product, is as unnerving as it is liberating. My husband heard me telling my son that I feel there’s an expectation that I will write something and I suppose by that, I mean I will write some sort of book. His response was that I don’t have to write anything, I don’t have to do anything, I need to focus on recovering. A statement that was simultaneously endearing and a little shocking, for it jolted a realisation of his perception of my current position. He is right though. I am recovering the segments of my self-esteem, my confidence, my belief in my own abilities and attempting to fit them back into a whole picture- it’s just that right now, I don’t know what the image will be.

These past few weeks have been a process of adjustment, not only in what I am doing and how I am organising my days, but also in what I am feeling and how I manage my expectations and those of people around me. When I am asked “So, how is it being a lady of leisure?” or “What are you doing then?” or “How is it not working then, it must be good?” - how should I respond? I am very grateful that we are able to make adjustments financially to enable me to keep on this route for now. I am grateful that I had this option when to remain in work, in my circumstances, would have led to some very dark places. I am grateful that I have options but as yet, I don’t feel I have answers.

The process of writing is in itself taking a lens to magnify the minutiae- it’s all in the description, the ability to capture a place, an object, a person, with some aptly chosen phrases. So within that, it is no doubt natural that the writer becomes the over-thinker. An observer of life in order to tell a story through the ink on the page, is by nature surely going to notice a feeling and may be more prone to catastrophising over it. I discovered that word this week, when chatting with a friend. I love it as a word, not as a quality, for it encapsulates the struggles of a mind that can leap from 0 to 60 in a blink of an eye, spiralling around all of the possible outcomes that a situation may have. It seems that she and I both share an ability of late to catastrophise.

It can be added to the long list of things that we share then. This friend and I go back to High School days and we have compared notes on life’s milestones ever since: university days, jobs, boyfriends, weddings - being bridesmaids for each other, our babies who are now either grown up or fast heading that way. Along the way though, we have also shared the small stuff, for it is those details that keep the whole thing going, this ‘adult’ thing. When chatting this week, we spoke of our lives with reference to the details and the wider lens view and both agreed that since school we have been waiting for the day when we actually feel like we’ve become adults and that we know what we’re doing, that we have some control. Having both now hit 50, we had to concede that perhaps that day never comes and all the adults that we looked up to as children were also playing the game that we now participate in. The game where you project an image of calm and knowing exactly what to do next, when actually you have no real clue.

So I should return to that pebble on the beach, the elusive one, with its glinting promise and tactile allure. It is perhaps my very adult and grown-up approach that is holding me back from reaching it? I should think of what I would have done to get to such a pebble back in my childhood days and throw caution to the wind, jump over a few waves and grab it. And once I have my pebble, examine it daily and treasure it forever.

Curtain Call

So this week sees me taking part in what has become an annual ritual since 2005: performing in a pantomime as part of my local community drama group. As always, the week is both exciting and stressful as it’s the culmination of many months work, the moment of truth in remembering your lines and then the feeling of excitement as you share the buzz of performing with a group of people that you’ve come to rely on. Looking back over the years, I’ve played many parts from villain to leading lady, chorus line and many variations in between. I’ve never really minded what part I’ve played as the joy for me has been to be part of the whole, and at the end of the day the whole show is the important thing.

This year, I’m playing half of a comic duo which has been great fun; working on timing, choreographing slapstick and funny business and helping each other to deliver punchlines. It’s certainly proved a positive distraction from some of the stresses of both of our working lives and doesn’t everyone need an outlet of some sort to escape their mundane and day-to-day?

As we’ve got to the most important rehearsals of the run, the group has pulled together to sort all the little jobs that need doing when putting on a show, from fixing props to sorting face paints and ordering refreshments for the intervals and many, many more. Within this busy atmosphere and whilst juggling thoughts of all the tasks I need to tick off during show week, as the group producer, I find myself losing my way with my own performance. Standing on stage in the spotlight, waiting for the curtain to open, I had an overwhelming moment of feeling that I wouldn’t be able to do what was required, that I would not be able to put all the good work from rehearsals into practice. This year has certainly been a roller coaster of emotions and now, as I reach the week that I’m usually so in control of, I find myself feeling a sort of stage fright that I haven’t faced before.

In an early blog, “Confined by my Cage of Confidence,” I began to confront some of my self-esteem issues. In the last month, I have found myself returning to these. Confidence is a fragile commodity with many facets, much like a precious crystal. There are moments when I know that I shine and this year I have made many treasured memories where this has been true and I look to all like I’m full of confidence and soaring high. Of course the flip side has been moments of inhabiting low places, when I can feel alone even in a crowded room. This week I got some blood test results back which confirmed that my anaemia has become an issue again, which has at least explained some difficulties that I have had. I understand that low mood is attached to anaemia and the results certainly provide a reason for the dizziness and fainting that I have had this month. Perhaps then, it is no surprise that I feel that my confidence is eroding currently?

So where do we go from here? Well you have to keep moving forward don’t you? Sometimes that feels like wading in the shifting sands left at low tide. Other days, a smile or a simple act of kindness touches your soul, makes a connection and gives you the ability to stride forward at a pace that has eluded you for days. The difference with this crisis of confidence, in comparison to my last, is that I am recognising it as such and I have a network of support that I am able to call on. We are heading towards the end of this year and I know that the next year holds an uncertain path for me. The unknown can cast a fearful shadow upon the mind. I am avoiding the shadows by being honest with myself and my support network. This does mean that there have been some tearful conversations but if there’s one thing I have learnt over the last three years working in the field of Special Educational Needs, it is that there is nothing wrong with having a little cry. A tearful conversation with my husband or a friend that I trust has actually been therapeutic and who knew just how powerful a hug could be?

I have a light ahead of me and each day, I feel that I am moving towards it. When someone notices that you’re stuck or are losing your way and stops to support you, there is much to be thankful for. You owe it to them and yourself to dust yourself down and find the strength to face the next obstacle in your way.

Returning to my moment in the spotlight, I do what a lot of performers do and park the thoughts of doubt to step forward as my character. I do all the silly things that happen in a pantomime and know that my fellow cast will be there to support me and will be giving their best too for every scene. I’ve worked too hard to step off the stage now and the old adage of ‘the show must go on’ is certainly a motivating force. Over the years, as a group we have helped each other, particularly when we have known that individuals have been facing difficult times. We have laughed and cried together and pulled a performance out of the bag, sometimes against the odds. Those in the group in the year I reference in “Kind Hearts and Karaoke” know only too well the extent to which that was true.

So, with my husband backing me up, as always, and my friends providing a safety net that I know I only need to ask for, I’m telling myself that I can do this. I’m facing the show week ahead and with deep breaths, I’m ready for my curtain call.

Acts of Kindness

Sometimes the smallest gestures have the greatest impact. This week I have been fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of several small acts of kindness from friends and colleagues, who have seen a need and stepped in to support me, without being asked. When I have been caught up in the whirlwind of a work and home life balancing act these past few weeks, these little actions have touched my heart and been appreciated so much.

Several of my previous blog pieces have touched on the value of friendship: ‘Friends and Frivolity’ for example, talks of the positive impact of sharing times and making memories with friends. The last few years, I have definitely had more opportunities to spend evenings with friends, to take part in celebrations or simple social events with them where shared interests, conversation and fun have featured to make memorable times. This has had a positive impact upon me but my thoughts within this blog are more focused upon how significant a seemingly small act of friendship can be. Perhaps it is only when you are feeling lost in life that you notice the minutiae of people’s actions?

For a variety of reasons, I have been feeling low recently and the friends who have noticed have truly made a difference to me through their kindness. Whether that has been quietly taking on a task for me so that I have less things to worry about, dropping everything they had planned that evening to come round to chat and keep me company, or diverting my attention from the things that are causing me anxiety by sharing silly stories or reminding me of how much I have to look forward to that’s positive - all these things and more are noticed and have meant more than may be outwardly apparent to those involved. 

People say that it’s when you’re at your lowest that you find out who your friends truly are. It’s whilst I have been in the darkest places that such acts have shone a light to guide me forward and to keep me moving on, to keep me talking about the struggles that often sit within the confines of my mind.

Having taught within the Primary school sector for over 25 years, there has been a lot that I have seen change and much of it, in my humble opinion, for the worse. This is not the right platform to discuss the politics involved in educational decisions or the seismic mind-shift there has been in the processes of teaching little minds. However, it is the little minds of those I have been privileged to teach that are simultaneously the most at risk and the space within which huge potential lies. In the days of Gove’s grammar legacy where infants and juniors are taught to bark the mechanics of reading and writing, it is with some sadness that I reminisce of past teaching days where there was scope to ignite a spark in their eyes as we journeyed together through the adventure that was learning to read and write. There was time to immerse ourselves in a fantastical story and to use their fuelled imaginations to create their own writing, with not a success criteria in sight! The success was obvious from the pride in their achievement of writing a story.

It is against the current backdrop that I have observed the proliferation of some new elements to school: mindfulness sessions giving children techniques to manage their stress and growth mindset displays showing children how to have positive thoughts. At the risk of sounding like a dinosaur teacher, back in the days I am reminiscing of there were no such things in place around the primary school because then the curriculum was broader. The children had regular access to music, art, drama, basic creativity which all the research shows helps to relax the mind, opens the doors to higher order thinking and problem solving which in turn builds resilience skills. It is of no surprise to me that as these subjects have been squeezed out of the curriculum, except for perhaps the odd day in a term when everyone does an art or DT project for a whole day, that I have seen a sharp increase in the numbers of children who are clearly stressed and suffering anxiety and psychological problems. 

Mental health may have become more in the public eye recently, it may be talked about more openly but I worry about the ticking time bomb of child mental health issues that are mushrooming out of control in our schools.

I did not start out in this piece to write what is I accept, a somewhat political or contentious article. It is just that having been through many stresses and in the position to know what it feels like to be in that dark space, it has given me a more acute awareness of what some of our little minds are facing daily. The benefits of kindness cannot be stressed enough. If I can vouch for its power as a lady of a certain age and life experience, then I can only imagine how powerful it can be to a child. You may never know the true extent of the ripple effect of that one small act, upon the rest of a person’s day, week or whole well-being. In a world where you can be anything, choose to be kind.

Taking the Plunge!

There are times when it feels like I’m standing on the top diving board with all around me waiting for me to take the plunge but I’m paralysed to the spot and can’t step off. This week this analogy has come flooding into my mind as I feel that the work-life balance is evading me and the stresses that brings, are swirling around me. The scene from Little Mermaid plays its soundtrack in my head - “up where they stay all day in the sun, wandering free, wish I could be, part of that world.” Have you ever felt like you’re desperately trying to swim up to the surface, towards the light and freedom that it promises but you’re being held back, pulled back beneath the waves and all is swirling around you?

Maybe it’s just me? 

Just lately, I have found that I feel as if things are getting on top of me and as they do I have that all consuming sensation of spiralling out of control. Whether it’s just work and home circumstances or a combination of those pressures with adjustments needed again with my anaemia as it’s impacting upon my mood, I don’t know. When you hear people talk about feeling low, but you haven’t been there yourself, you just think there must be a quick fix and after all, we all have days when we feel a bit fed up. Now that I too have found myself in this category, I have been struck by just how overwhelmed I can quickly become. I have always been a logical, rational person but I can see these skills slipping away as the mood takes hold and I spiral down the helter-skelter of emotions.

The high board is where I currently stand, looking at still blue waters far below. A delectable temptation beckons - joining the cool pool of water, but it’s so far away and involves a leap of faith to dive the distance to reach it. So what do you do? Stay rooted to the spot, dive off with a high possibility of making a complete bellyflop on entry to the pool, or be brave enough to ask for help to find an alternative route down perhaps? It may feel like a backwards route, the long flight of steps back down from that precarious height, but there may be something rewarding in retracing those familiar steps and recognising what you achieved along the way on each step in the first place.

A good friend offering a hand to hold as I tentatively start the long climb down has offered wise advice. If you can’t completely change where you currently find yourself, what can you do to improve your situation? I know that I have referenced this in previous blogs, particularly in ‘Diva or Door Mat?’ but I do struggle to stand up for myself. Being proactive in saying what I can and am doing is not a natural part of my makeup. Neither do I find it easy to rock the boat, to make a fuss about things. So do I just let it all build up until I’m in that overwhelmed state? I guess I do or I have done so a lot. So now I recognise at least that I have to listen to friends who may sound harsh at the time, but who are pushing me to do the right thing for all the right reasons.

The best friends don’t always agree with you, they challenge how you feel about things but they do it in a way that you know they’re around if you fall. Think back to when you learnt to ride a bike. You couldn’t keep the stabilisers on for ever - riding around in some falsely constructed safe reality. No. There came a point when you were on those two wheels and you wobbled off down the street. You fell off a bit but you persevered and rode that bike in the end, probably with a parent or sibling cheering or smiling from the sidelines as you did so.

I hope my friends who are making me ride without stabilisers, are quietly smiling to themselves when they see me manage part of this journey. I know they’re looking out for me and sink or swim, ride or fall, they’ll be around to listen, advise or offer a friendly hug. Let’s face it, even a middle aged woman can feel a whole lot better after a comforting hug and a friendly smile.

Friends and Frivolity

It is often said that friends are the family that you choose for yourself. As it is with family, friends come in all shapes and sizes and move in and out of your life, as circumstances dictate. Some friends are regular participants in your life and others may be more sporadic but true friends, the people who really matter and make a difference to you, are always ready to listen, to meet up, to be a presence when the need is there - even if you haven’t seen each other for a long time. It is a blessing to me that I have a strong group of friends that I can call upon when I need them and who, I would hope, would do the same to me as and when they needed support.

I am about to spend a weekend away with a group of friends - an eclectic bunch who have agreed to join me in a girls adventure marking my birthday. Each one of them has their own busy life and family commitments, yet they put it all on hold to indulge me in a madcap, frivolous weekend and spent a year saving up to be able to do so.

What is it that draws people together to become friends? Often a shared interest perhaps and we are all partial to a bit of drama, this is true. When in the playground, choosing friends, you pick from similar aged peers. Now there’s 20 years or more between the youngest and oldest of our group, yet it doesn’t seem to figure in the relationships. We can all laugh together and support each other, as required, without limits.

It seems like I should return to this blog, when the impending weekend is done and I no doubt will have a wealth of experiences from it on which to comment. Yet is that necessary? I’m thinking of the old adage of “you needed to be there.” Indeed, trying to relay anecdotes of something that a group found completely hilarious to a dumbfounded looking individual, after the event, is never a fully satisfactory pastime.

I know that we will laugh, drink, eat and do silly things and perhaps that’s all that needs to be said. Over a year saving, several months planning events during the weekend, copious amounts of messages back and forth fine tuning details of outfits to wear, times to meet and catch trains and one central space set up for all of us to post our photographs during the weekend - all culminates in a shared experience that, with a bit of luck, we’ll all look back on with fond memories for many years to come.

And that is surely the crux of it? Making memories with the people that matter to you, isn’t that what life needs to be about? I’m sure, when the curtains are about to fall upon your final life’s performance, it is not the items you have bought or the jobs that you completed that come into focus in your mind. Memories are etched into your mind from sharing experiences together - with friends or family, or friends who become family. It is not how long you have shared a pathway with someone that matters, it’s who you jumped in the puddles with, who climbed a tree with you, who ran giggling with you to hide behind the bushes.

So, I’m not sure that the seven of us will be doing those things this weekend but we are booked into a dance workshop, an afternoon tea, an evening of relaxing chat with a tipple or two thrown in and who knows what else may transpire? As the theme is vintage, we’re all dressing up accordingly - I did say it was a madcap adventure! Within that context, we have our feather boas ready and are so excited that it’s akin to being schoolgirls again. It’s so lovely to be giving ourselves time and space to be silly, be pampered and to make memories together. Onlookers may not ‘get it’ but we’re all up for the nonsense of it and if you can’t have a bit of nonsense from time to time, then life’s a bit dull.

Perhaps we all need to be daft from time to time and we certainly shouldn’t just keep things on a bucket list and never get round to doing them. Choose your bucket list items carefully but share the experiences with those who are significant in your life, be that friends or family. I’m off to pack now and I’ve made sure I’ve got my bucket with me!

Kind Hearts and Karaoke

The seeds of friendship can be found in the most unlikely places and, when nurtured well, can grow into a thing of beauty, strength and compassion. Back in our playground days, we fell in and out of friendship frequently according to who wanted to join in the latest game or craze with us: French skipping with the athletic girls, swinging clackers, joining in bundles on the playing field or racing to complete a Rubik’s cube. The rules of friendship were somewhat blurred at the time and on the whole, falling out one day could be repaired and forgotten about by the end of the week. Sometimes, amongst all this you might find a best friend and a few people kept these for a long time – perhaps even counting a playground pal amongst their adult circle of friends.

My experience has been that I have a couple of friends that were made at secondary school or university who I keep in touch with and others who have become friends through work circles. However, it is my hobby which has brought me to a place of developing friendships that run a little deeper. A weekly drama group which combines a collection of people of different ages and backgrounds in a common goal to rehearse, perform and support each other in their hobby. Something about the process of drama is inspirational. People who would never normally meet in other social circles, cross-generational and with all different talents working together for the common goal of putting on a show. I’ve seen people go from shy, anxious individuals perhaps coming along to help out backstage, to standing proudly in a spotlight giving everything they have to their performance, their self-confidence soaring.

Friends I have made through this group have been there for me through personal tragedy, difficult days at work and stressful situations as well as being part of celebrations, fun times and achievements. Perhaps there is something about being part of a creative process together that helps the social bonding – sharing the workload involved in putting on a show, learning your lines and moves together and standing as one as a cast on stage to receive the audience response. It is true that friendships have grown here over the last decade or so and the group is such that we both work and play together – choosing to meet up outside the constraints of weekly rehearsals, with karaoke featuring often as an opportunity for a good laugh as we sing, dance and – let’s be honest – drink together.

Within the long and complex process of putting on a show, we all have different strengths and weaknesses but I have been touched by the small acts of kindness shown to one another to help out with a task, go over a scene where someone may be struggling and mostly in valuing the efforts that each of us are making. In fact, it is at drama that I was inspired by the kindest lady I have had the privilege to know. A gentler, more unassuming person you would be hard pushed to find and the joy of seeing her go from a timid chorus member to commanding the stage dancing with a feather boa to ‘Hey, Big Spender’ is a memory I shall treasure forever.

To look back on this highlight is to confront thoughts of her untimely passing just 4 days before she was due to join us on stage for our annual pantomime. A devastating blow to the group to lose such a core part of the group and such a special lady, it was a remarkable measure of the strength of the group working together to support each other in a way we never felt possible. The old adage is that the show must go on, and indeed her family were adamant that the group should do exactly that, but they were the hardest performances we have ever done.

The group has moved on in many ways since, with new members who never had the opportunity to know her, taking centre stage. This is rightly so, as a group is more than any one individual part of it and the nature of this type of group is that it changes and develops with each new venture that it begins. Though, the best bits of her personality linger with those of us who shared a stage with her and there are times when I have felt that she has joined us back there – who knows?

So yes, I lost a special friend and I discovered depths of character amongst other friends in dealing with this. This is why the friendship I refer to has a strength and meaning beyond that of those playground past times. But by referring to this dark episode, I don’t mean to belittle the contribution that others have made to my life – others who have walked into my group and life since this time. For a friend is not measured by the length of time that they have stood by your side but rather by the impact they have had upon you. Some friends tread a path together tentatively, gradually growing in their shared experiences to find themselves in a place where they realise just quite how much they need each other. Some friends have a presence that’s more immediate, taking you by surprise in how quickly you find yourself seeking their opinions, valuing their advice and noticing how aspects of your life are better for having known them.

It all comes down to kindness – in a busy world where everyone has to be somewhere, meeting a deadline, sorting out a list of chores and responsibilities, it can feel as if everyone is caught up in their own selfish endeavours. So when you find someone who can put that on hold, even for a moment to do something for another person, show a little kindness of heart, then that’s worth celebrating. I am very lucky to have found several people who are happy to share their kind hearts and karaoke evenings with me.

Fabulous is a State of Mind

As I have said before in my post ‘Confined by my Cage of Confidence’, I had decided that I wasn't going to be 50 and fat so I started working on that at the start of January. As the weight has started coming off and I find myself hurtling towards my milestone birthday, an idea has started to form in my mind of being fabulous at 50.

It's the sort of tag line you read on a greetings card or a headline in some celebrity magazine that you glimpse when thumbing through the pages, as you're in the hairdressers waiting for the colour on your roots to take. For those pages though, it’s all a perception played out to portray the elusive image of womanhood. The everyday woman doesn't have access to Photoshop, airbrushing and a personal trainer who will work his magic with you every morning - more's the pity!

It takes a lot of product and time and effort to come anywhere close to the celebrity fabulous that every 50-something is going for! Actually, we're not going for that look at all. Don't get me wrong, we all love to dress up and slap on some make-up, blow dry our hair and paint our nails for a special occasion. It makes you feel good in yourself and adds an extra sass to your steps. 

But on a daily basis, feeling fabulous surely has to go further than applying all that fake veneer, doesn't it? If you don't feel good within yourself, the rest is just a mask you wear to join in the grown-up's game of pretending everything is fine. The inside feeling of being fabulous takes a lot longer to achieve and it can be quite fleeting at times and take many forms. It may only be a little thing but it can have a cumulative effect: the times when I have successfully tried a new baking recipe and seen how much it has been enjoyed; when I have completed a difficult and demanding work task to meet a deadline; when I have spent an evening with friends and laughed until I ached and can’t even remember what it was that started us laughing. Valuing these moments has been part of pursuing my fabulous quest this year. 

Prior to losing weight, I would put myself down regularly and outwardly joke that I was fat, like a mechanism to protect myself it was almost like if I said it first,  then no-one else could comment and upset me. But a good friend pulled me up on this and got me thinking about why I was doing this. The knock on effect of this was that I started my weight loss efforts because I made myself stop having permission to be fat. My default to excuse myself by joking about it was no longer going to be acceptable to me.

When you've been big for a long time, it takes a long time to start to see the shrinking version of yourself. It's like a moth to a flame, picking up the larger clothes first and trying on bigger sizes than I actually need. Inside there's been this slimmer, more attractive and outgoing person waiting to be released and the big me, that's still in my mind, stands in the way sometimes.

To anyone who doesn't know me, I imagine I would still be judged as fat.  Though I've dropped 2 to 3 dress sizes, I'm still not catered for in some high street stores and I know I have a way to go yet. In my head though, I have begun to feel more attractive and with that a certain body confidence and self-image is growing. That's the fabulous bit. When people tell you that you're looking good, when you've noticed that you're less out of breath, when you've started to look at the sort of slinky clothes that you thought no longer belonged in your boudoir, that's fabulous isn't it?

Don't get me wrong, it's not all about the weight.  This year has seen a sort of awakening within me, as I've started to talk with friends about the darker places that I've been to, I've gained the confidence to explore what's been going on. The strain of shelving my emotions, shutting them up in a box on a high shelf has a negative effect over time. It's hard to feel fabulous when you've become disengaged and you're going through the motions of your everyday reality. Unlocking these inner thoughts hasn't always been easy. I think I've cried more tears this year than in the last ten and at times, it has felt like I've opened a flood gate. Yet, it has been a journey that friends have supported me on.

Writing this down has felt like the next stage of the process really – a therapy in itself. I start a page and it's as if I'm unlocking a series of doors in the hallway of my mind. To write is to create. This type of writing has allowed me to create a channel to process my emotions and lay them out there for others to see too. Some may take comfort from what they see laid out before them and perhaps recognise a little of it in themselves. Some may have no interest in it at all. Either way, there has been a response to the words on a page. An artist's work is always a portrayal of part of themselves and the exhibition process inherently stands that up alongside the artwork.

My words and thoughts, tumbled as they do from mind to page, are not nearly as grand as an artwork but they obviously represent a piece of me. Someone said it was brave of me to write about my thoughts and issues. I don't know if it is brave or foolish. I do know that it has felt like a natural step from the year of examining myself from the inside out. I'm feeling more okay with my thoughts and I'm planning to keep doing the things that bring a smile to my face. Mindful of actively adding positive experiences will in itself enable me to meet the negatives more head on. There are parts of my life that continue to cause me stress and currently, I have no control over these. I’m working on it but at least recognising that and asking my family and friends to help me with it, is making things more manageable. I have spent time coming to terms with who I am and where I want to go and I am determined to hit the next decade positively. So I am working on my chosen quest and slowly succeeding as, it has to be said, fabulous is a state of mind.

What makes you feel fabulous? You owe it to yourself to pick something and go for it - have your own regular fabulous moments.