Shabby Chic

Scratch beneath the surface of a grand veneer and is it all that the facade promises to be?
Think of a plush setting that you have visited - a hotel, a theatre, perhaps a high end restaurant. Do you notice the details or are you just swept along with the moment and the ostentatious paraphernalia on display? Take a closer look and it may be all too easy to find the cracks, the forgotten dusty corner and, rather like the proverbial swan, see the drudgery and sheer hard work of all those persevering to keep the cogs turning smoothly to maintain the illusion for the public.

We visited a National Trust property yesterday and marvelled at a chandelier in one of the rooms. We were intrigued to hear that it is cleaned bi-annually and that the process takes two people a whole month to complete. Things of beauty take a lot of work behind the scenes to maintain. Looking at the dining table all laid out with cut flowers, thin stemmed glasses, polished cutlery and an array of fine tableware, it felt as though we had stepped into a moment in time, glimpsing a bygone era of decadence. It brought to mind a stark contrast to the modern-day, throwaway mentality of fast food, delivered to your door at a click on your phone, disposable and nondescript. Whatever the reasons for today’s proliferation of instant gratification, the almost immediate satisfaction of Uber eats, microwaved ready meals and fast processed snacks does not remain a satisfaction quelled for long. Whilst we have created these systems in our society to provide us with quick fixes so that we can get back to our busy days, in so doing, are we in danger of forgetting how to take time out, to pause and notice our surroundings and to appreciate what we have before us?

As I started writing this, I was sat in a hotel bar alongside my husband on our anniversary weekend away. From this vantage point I could see both aspects that I mention, the two sides of the coin - the beauty of the well chosen furnishings, the hotel guests sat around taking time to chat, whilst woven all around the scene was the work going on by many staff to maintain that facade of luxury. On a Saturday morning in July, with many wedding guests arriving, there were times when the staff looked overwhelmed and the luxurious image slipped in places as tables were left uncleared with discarded food and glasses dotted around and the ever-growing queue for the bar dented the peaceful atmosphere we had originally sought. I put down my pen and we headed off for a dip in the pool, an altogether more tranquil experience.

Thinking back to that scene now, I wonder if others were disturbed by the parts I have just described or if they could just zone out, carry on with their conversation or morning read regardless? As I have grown older, I have found it more difficult to do that. I think back to when my children were young and I could hold a conversation with another Mum whilst sipping coffee, changing my child’s shoes and wiping their nose and sending them on their way again to play with the toys in a noisy church hall toddler group - all without a second thought. Now I have to focus on one thing at a time.

That’s maybe no bad thing and as I said before, just taking a moment to pause is invaluable. I am having to work at this still and particularly the last few weeks I have found that I really need to carve myself some time, remove myself from the routine and home environment to be able to pause and hopefully then, to write. It’s back to the need to find the space to think, to recharge, to allow the creative part of the brain a chance to spark. When I have removed myself to the garden, or my loft room or a coffee spot nearby, I am in a much better position to let the pen flow.

I have just read one of those quotes posted with regularity on Instagram, which read something like this - If you look for good, you will find it, if you look for the worst, you will find that too. I think you can stand in a stately home, a grand hotel or a regency theatre and find either the good or the worst, if you try. The best advice is to share a moment with good company and the good grace to be thankful for that time. Pause the distractions, sip your tea from a china cup, indulge in the delight of a little decadence if you can and, just for that fleeting moment, relax.

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.

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.

Clearing the Clutter

Snippets of conversation catch my ear from my vantage point, my prime position sat in a corner of a coffee shop. A cosy corner with my familiar latte order in my hand - a pause from the daily routine. Bliss? Perhaps, but it allows the cogs to turn in my head and I imagine a cutting room floor with a projectionist loading the various spools of film to be played through. The various scenes that your brain keeps stored away most of the time and usually starts the trailers for in a spliced together dream sequence as your subconscious surfaces during the night. I have quite a few spools of film to examine right now. A couple relating to my parental responsibilities for whatever age your children are, you always want to know that they’re safe and happy and there are days when you find yourself questioning what else you can do to support those wishes. There’s the latest release, the spool where I have become the protagonist- settling into the new life pattern of a writer - the one where I can become anyone and do anything that my imagination allows. That is an exciting prospect right now and is currently not holding all the doubts that I had attached to it as this year began.

Then there is a spool that is harder to watch for I don’t know how to support the leading man, my husband, who is the focus of it. He continues to put on a brave face and works hard at his job, rather aptly for this analogy, within a fast paced marketing environment in a film company. At home, he continues to support us all, within the family unit and beyond with the responsibilities he feels towards his parents and siblings. He talked about something I had written down recently, a memory from when our children were small. He lamented that he had forgotten the recalled anecdote and asked himself why that was. In a rather touching moment he said to me “What would we do without you writing down all these memories? Why had I forgotten that?” I told him that he did have that memory within him but he just couldn’t find it because there was a lot of clutter in the way right now.

I have been given the luxury of time to let the movies in my head play out, to capture a moment in time and try to pin it down to a page within my writing. Time and space to clear away my own clutter and it is an opportunity not given to many. From the snippets of conversation I overhear from my corner, my people-watching corner, it is a luxury that I am valuing more and more. All around me, the words and phrases of disjointed conversations move in and out of my consciousness as I write and provide snapshot insights into people’s lives. An ill-health diagnosis, a plan for a party, options for a teenager’s exam choices, a business decision as an email is sent. We all have scenes to play out - comic, tragic and all the shades in between. The trick is not to get caught up in the pile on the cutting room floor- not to get overwhelmed by it all.

I have spent a lot of time recently thinking back to where I found myself a year ago. Back when our house renovation was impacting heavily on family life. We had to sort different sleeping arrangements, contain a boisterous puppy every time a different builder came in to work on the next phase of our loft extension, juggle our finances to meet the spiraling expenses of the venture and de-clutter a lot of belongings that we had managed to accumulate over the years. Dragging down boxes full of stuff from yesteryear is quite an emotional process- baby mementos, children’s toys, battered old suitcases. I even found a dusty vanity case full of my old dance costumes from my childhood weekly lessons and regular performances. A ballet leotard, silver strappy tap shoes, a tiny gingham dance skirt- enough to create a whole other film spool entitled ‘a dancer’s life.’ When all this was happening at home, work was also very difficult for me. Thinking of it now, my job had changed significantly within a short space of time and I was in the midst of tenaciously navigating a sharp learning curve. Previous pieces have documented the health issues that were also impacting upon this picture- there was indeed a lot going on. 

It has been beneficial to look back to just take a moment to take stock and to reassure ourselves that we overcame a lot. If we can meet these challenges, and many others that have come our way in the past, then I am sure we can continue to meet any future ones coming our way. I have had a great deal of support over this last year, particularly with enabling me to be finally accepting who I am and what I am currently doing. That support has meant that I am in a much better place now, one where I can now begin to help my husband to clear the clutter. After all, a good spring clean always makes you feel better and ready to face the year ahead.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

I drove behind a hearse today, after dropping my daughter at work. Just one vehicle amongst the traffic, a simple coffin with no floral adornment - most probably empty as there was no reverential slow speed being observed by the driver as it left the roundabout by the crematorium. That’s a place I’ve been to with increasing regularity, sadly. As you get to a certain age it becomes more likely that you meet friends and extended family at funerals rather then weddings and of course, there is a certain spot in the gardens where we visit to think of my Dad. There, with a clipped lawn and often a blue sky, a small numbered plaque marks his resting place - the officialdom of a final act. I prefer to think of Dad at other times, in other places, from the corners of your mind where the sepia-coloured memories glow like discarded embers from a comforting fire. If you try really hard, you can sometimes push enough embers together to spark a brightness from the past, almost to the point that you have to catch yourself and remember that he is no longer here.

So to return to following the hearse, on a January morning with a sky full of the blues and greys that start a wintery day. I was jolted by the image from my thoughts of my day ahead, the mundane mental list: cleaning, shopping, dog walking, trying to sort clutter to build myself a writing nest. Jolted instead into thinking about what it all means. That’s a very big question when you’ve only just surfaced from the security of your bedroom covers. Particularly today. Today had been one of those days when I had contemplated driving my daughter to work whilst still wearing my pyjamas- something I have never done and something I can assure you would not look like the glamorous yummy Mummies portrayed in a certain car advert! No, today, I had thrown on sloppy clothes, given my face a cursory look in the mirror and thought “that shit will have to do - I can fix it later.”

Looking at the hearse before me, I was struck by how small the coffin appears and how, as may well be the case for some, the stark, bare box seems such an insignificance. Dad’s funeral was so well attended that there was literally standing room only but I’ve seen others with a handful of mourners and there must be some endings where no-one sheds a tear and it’s all a matter of paperwork. Is a person’s mark upon the earth measured by the size of the final crowd that they draw?

To avoid sliding down this somewhat gloomy spiral with such thoughts, the jolt I had as I drove my usual route back home was more connected to the beginning I have made. That inner voice that we all have (I presume we all have it) began its own monologue reinforcing my decision to resign my post, to embark upon my writing, to persevere with this somewhat haphazard situation that I have created for myself. They say that you only regret the things that you didn’t do. That, and other such clichés came to mind and then, out of nowhere and with no predetermined mission to do so today, this blog piece begins to form in my head. I park on the drive, grab my laptop and head back to bed where the writing sanctuary of our newly constructed loft space allows me to think. High up, metaphorically and literally, I am away from the mundane. Looking out of the two Velux windows to one side, I see the treetops and the clouds rolling by, whilst the large window to the other side of the bed affords a vista across the rooftops to the town beyond. Though not the picturesque seascape I yearn for, as a frustrated novelist with idealistic intentions, the mere space extending on to the distant horizon and the time to sit here looking at it, is a calming opportunity and conducive to creative thoughts.

Thoughts have been my friends and my enemies lately. They are the necessary mechanism for my creativity to flourish and I have yet to allow myself to fully immerse myself in them, for to find enough distraction free time for that process still seems an elusive commodity- but it is early days. Those same early days have allowed thoughts in that start to sow the seeds of anxiety and self-doubt. When given any chance to do so they grow into emotional and sometimes irrational seedlings that need cutting down before they take root. There have been a few days when they have done their best to do so. I can picture them as I write, within a tray in a gardener’s potting shed with their labels neatly scribed upon them “this is a farce,” and “what are you actually doing” being the main plant names. So far though, I am managing them, as my cousin, who is a horticulturist, once advised - the best thing is to do a little of something in the garden every day. So I’m tending my mind garden! 

When all is said and done, we are in control of the marks we make upon a page and those which remain as a legacy for others to reference in the future. If you can no longer control part of your life, make changes to it - walk away, try again, switch it up a bit, whatever is necessary to start making things work. You can’t do it on your own, so look around for help - I have been surprised and struck by the number of people willing to offer their support and it manifests itself in so many different ways. Sometimes it needs to be actions that make a difference to your day. Sometimes words need to be said, and I don’t always want to hear them, but those that matter, know when I need to hear them.

Today is a good day, from starting as a day that felt anything but a good day. Inspiration for writing comes from the strangest places - I cannot explain it and will not begin to try. I will carry on with my mundane, my mindful moments and my inner monologue - for on days like this, I think she’s got something worth listening to!

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.

We're Not Just Mum and Dad

Half a century I have been alive for: that’s quite a statement to make. I have been married for more time than I have been single: 28 years (to the same man - in case you’re wondering) which is almost three fifths of my life. I suppose we must be doing something right on the marriage front then. In the year when we have both reached our half century, I have found us to be reconnecting in many ways, almost as my husband said, reinventing ourselves.

We walked along a pebble beach today, just the two of us, and talked. Really talked. When you spend time with your partner on a daily basis you would think that you talk all the time wouldn’t you? Trouble is the subject matter is of daily tasks, meeting times, what the kids or the pets have been doing, all that sort of thing. You don’t touch on the big stuff - for that you need space and time.

A mini break by the sea, without the kids, gave us the context to discuss some pretty big stuff. To air how we feel about the ongoing family pressures may not solve presenting issues but it means you don’t have to hold all your thoughts and feelings about it inside your head, for you alone to be processing. This month has seen some big decisions on my part and having the time to talk about them, whilst the waves provide their calming soundtrack was a much needed therapeutic experience. There is something about the sea that touches the soul and it has almost a magical effect upon me - allowing my mind to drift into a floating state instead of its usual racing around agitation.

The phrase ‘headspace’ is heard increasingly and I was sceptical initially about it - surely it’s all just a bit hippy-like? This year, I have come to see the value of giving yourself time for some headspace, even if it was a term I would never have known or used ten years ago. As we walked and talked and sat in the November sunshine, the effects of sharing worries and taking calming measures washed over me, just like the waves would have if I had been brave enough to step into them.

Just having time together, away from the pressures of our work lives and the busy context of the family home, does in itself give you a freedom to appreciate each other and the little joys of being in each other’s company. When your parental responsibilities have lessened to a level that you can actually go out together without the kids, there is a feeling of stepping into the unknown all over again. The first time you do it, perhaps just for a meal out together, you sit there spending all evening talking about the kids and whether they’ll be okay at home. You have a feeling that actually you only function now as a parent and panic that perhaps you have nothing left to say to each other beyond how the parenting is working.

Then you repeat the freedom experience and if you’re lucky, like us, get to a point where you can trust the kids to be left at home whilst you go away for a night or two. This is where the reinventing really takes place. No longer just Mum and Dad, you find yourselves back in that couple role which has at times felt like a distant memory from our youth. Holding hands to walk along together, giggling about an amusing point of conversation, happily sharing the joys of being ‘in the moment,’ to coin the latest mindfulness mantra, is all reminiscent of a time before the weight of responsibilities pressed upon our shoulders. Work-life balance has eluded us lately. Family pressures have impacted upon us. So giving each other space and permission to talk about it all and to step away from such stresses, albeit for just a short time, has felt invaluable.

It is so easy when we all have such busy lives and demanding workloads to power on through the days and weeks and months without paying attention to the little things. It is important to press the pause button occasionally and just notice the details of your life. Somewhere along the way we got so caught up in working and making choices to suit other people that we forgot about ourselves.

Since returning from this short break, the little oasis of time and space, it’s amazing how quickly you plunge back in to the mundane and the turbulence of family crisis or work deadlines. At least, I have found that we are aware that it’s happening. We’re still talking about how we can continue to make time and space for each other. It’s a challenge that remains to be worked at and, I guess, as the Christmas frenzy cranks up, one that will prove more and more elusive for a while. We can’t make such grand gestures like booking rooms away on a regular basis but we have to look at the little things. Looking to the future, we need to give ourselves a break from it all more often. Pause, breathe, laugh or watch the sunset together. Do whatever it takes to put yourself as a couple at the top of the pile for a moment. For although, being Mum and Dad is the best job to have and a privilege to be given, we’re not defined by only that and it is time, perhaps, to be so much more.

Mermaid Mother

I am sitting on a beach on the sort of day when years of UK holidays have trained you to button up your cardigan, smile and say how lovely it is. Listening to the waves rolling in, slowly seeping into your mind- pushing aside the stresses of your everyday reality and gradually allowing space and time for calm. Just as I’m drifting willingly into a reverie of relaxation I get bulldozed by our dog who has bounded into me, covered in a dusting of sand - she’s just discovered the unbridled joy of jumping in the waves, trying to catch an elusive piece of driftwood.

For a moment, whilst my daughter laughs heartily at the sight of me floored by our pup, I’m back in my childhood swimsuit days. Reminiscing about many years of holidays on the Isle of Wight, where a day on the beach seemed endless and only punctuated by sand-filled sandwiches or an ice cream, when I was free to build sandcastles, splash in the waves, collect shells and generally engage in the serious business of beach play. At any given moment I was a pirate about to walk the plank or a mermaid collecting shells for my underwater palace, the best sand architect in the world or a swimmer who was sure that a few strokes more would win an Olympic medal. Imagination knows no bounds when a child gives it the freedom to soar. Why do we limit it in our adult world? Obviously the responsibility of adult life puts constraints on our playtime- I’m not sure I could fit in making a shell necklace between answering emails at my desk and tipping out a bucket of sand would certainly be frowned upon!

Whenever you get a chance though, I challenge you to use your imagination. Let that inner child out and just run with it. The best times I have had as an adult have been the silly times, when I’ve let down my guard and imagined daft scenarios shared over wine in cahoots with friends or family. The creative part of my personality is allowed to fly through my writing and when engaged in creating a character on stage or working out dance moves for our drama group – it’s all a chance to unlock a piece of imagination and in doing so, be more the child than the adult which is something worth doing on a regular basis. How many times do you allow your inner child to surface and call the shots for a while?

To return to the moment in hand though: the dog bounding around with me pushed over on the sand and my daughter laughing moment. The best thing about this joyful snapshot is the sound of her laughter. Having watched her struggle for over two years with anxiety and depression, to see her currently joining the dog in a splash in the sea is indeed a joy. It seems a tempting of fate to actually write these words but she does seem to be a whole lot better in the past few months. Recently she has volunteered and been working at a local coffee shop. To see her talking to strangers as she serves them coffee is akin to watching a rare flower bloom and stand proudly in the sunshine, resplendent in its colour and beauty after growing from a small inconspicuous seed in the darkness.

It’s been two months now since she sat her last exam and we will know today what grades she achieved. Whichever numbers or letters have been arbitrarily assigned to her efforts, they will show no recognition of the immense achievement that she has accomplished in getting herself to a place where she was able to even contemplate sitting in an exam room. It is true that we do not know what lays ahead, with college enrollment and whatever that new chapter may bring. We do seem to be moving forward but the journey that anyone with mental health issues makes is never linear. For now, we are grateful for the journey we have made so far and for the joyous moments that have interspersed this journey. We are not sure exactly where our destination will be and indeed have no idea how long it will take us to get there.

So perhaps it is not surprising then that a day on the beach, a chance for relaxation, has triggered such a nostalgic response - a hidden yearning for a simpler time, when I could conquer the world with my bucket and spade. Back then, I could do anything that my imagination conjured up, with no limitations of gender expectations, qualification requirements or family responsibilities.

As I started to explore in my first post "Mum's the Word," life throws up obstacles in all sorts of ways but you have to find your way to steer around them and sometimes to grab hold of them tight and fling them aside. My mermaid days may be behind me but my dearest wish as a mother is to instill an adventurous spirit in my children. If you want to swim with dolphins, go do it. You can do anything with your family and friends behind you and whatever choices you make, believe in yourself and those that matter will always be proud.

 

Coffee and Cake - Code for Therapy!

I’m completing those medical type questionnaires and I think they’re missing something. You know the ones where they try to check out your addictions and give a health baseline? My answers portray a somewhat bland, some might suggest boring response:

Have you ever smoked? – No

Do you / have you ever taken drugs? - Prescription only, a morphine drip after an emergency C-Section for my first child and a couple of puffs of gas and air having my second before I decided that I didn’t like the woozy feeling and gave up on that!

How much alcohol do you drink? – Most weeks none; it’s not a usual thing in our house. Lately, if meeting up with friends, a few glasses to get into the spirit of that Friday frolic fever. You know how everyone seems to manage their mundane and stressful working week by putting Friday up on a pedestal all week so that we can glam ourselves up, park our working lives and feel silly for a few carefree hours? Close friends might testify that’s it been more than a few glasses on some occasions, but no-one puts the whole truth on these forms do they?

Do you exercise? – Well, I walk the dog when no-one else in the family will and I join in dance routines at my weekly drama group. If the dishwasher is loaded and the TV programmes haven’t caused me to nod off and the stars of passion are neatly aligned, I might have an extra bit of bedroom exercise from time to time.

What’s missing from my questionnaire though is the thing that I am now having to admit to myself is my addiction: coffee and cake. Along with a proliferation of coffee shops over the last few years, comes the realisation that they’re tapping into something. It’s not that everyone has just suddenly developed an unquenchable thirst for coffee – though it is in itself addictive. It’s more to do with the fact that we’re looking for a little slot of relaxation and, when you find yourself a friendly local coffee spot, a smiling barista with a few minutes to listen to you and make you feel important. This, I’ve come to realise, is my therapy.

Half an hour on a sofa in a coffee shop with a sweet treat and a latte and I’m ready to carry on with my day. Whether I’ve sat alone or to catch up with friends, used the chance to check work emails or to chat with my Mum or pop in for a moment away from the kids to actually talk to my husband (though often we’ll sit alongside each other checking out the screens on our phones as we sip coffee) – it’s all a way to recharge batteries and pretend for a moment or two that life has been put on hold. An equivalent slot on a sofa with a therapist would be infinitely more expensive and possibly no better for me.

My coffee time is my ‘me time’ and has become a necessary part of my week – my mindfulness programme. I can make coffee at home and have been known to create perfectly adequate bakes but it isn’t about that, is it? Taking time out, in a little sanctuary of calm, is to step away from the plate spinning that encapsulates my waking hours; a plate for managing an increasingly stressful job, a plate for coordinating kids’ activities, a plate for caring for pets that we were persuaded into buying and now have most responsibility for looking after, a plate for keeping the home running, a plate for being there for friends and family. How many plates is that now? I’m a walking circus act!

This year, I have to admit that my need for ‘coffee therapy’ has certainly increased – possibly to worrying levels. I’ve been joking with friends that I am having a midlife crisis but I think it has just been a significant year. One kid has finished university, the other managed to get through GCSEs despite many challenges. We’ve had 5 months of disruption as we have refurbished the house in an effort to future-proof it, for we see little hope of our kids being able to fly the nest any time soon. My job has taken a new direction too, with more responsibility, more deadlines, more of everything except money and recognition – such seems the accepted norm in the austerity driven work place of the current day. Against this backdrop, I’m planning celebrations to mark a significant birthday – I intend to be fabulous and fifty, at least for the celebrations, it’s most likely to be downhill after that!

Why one birthday year should be more significant than another is arbitrary. For many, each candle on the cake is just another passing year – one no more meaningful than the next. Many have developed this habit of celebrating the ‘decade birthdays’ more than others and certainly, for the last few years I’ve not particularly gone overboard on the celebrations. Six years back I spent a memorable birthday night sat alongside my Dad’s hospital bed, following the difficult decision to withdraw medication and wait for him to pass. The fighter that he was meant that he struggled on way past expectations and died 8 days later. So I guess my birthday has been inextricably linked with those events since.

Determined – that was the word he used to describe me in his speech on our wedding day. Determined to pursue a course of action whether he was proved right or wrong in the wisdom of my choices. Well, despite many stumbling blocks along the way, he was proved right that I’ve been determined enough to stick at my marriage and persevere as a parent – something that comes with no prior qualification or manual.

With no let up on the horizon – mortgage payments to continue for a fair few years, workloads staying heavy, it’s fair to assume that I’m going to require coffee therapy for a long time to come. Now, pass me my latte.

Does coffee therapy work for you? How do you make time for yourself among your daily responsibilities?