The Ties That Bind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Millennium Mother

I had an early morning doctor’s appointment this week and so I shared my walk along the pavement with the pre-school traffic. Not the type in cars but those walking or shuffling along, mostly it seemed to be mother and child partnerships making their respective journeys. I’m guessing to school and on to their jobs or various ‘Mum’ duties of the day ahead.

Just as I was thinking back to my own walks to school many years ago, a vision of Millennium Motherhood sped past me. A sleek, silver scooter with the child stood on it grasping tight to the handle bars and - I presume - the mother behind, one foot balanced upon the scooter as the other pedalled gracefully along. The mother wore a rucksack on her back with a water bottle in the pocket, the sort of bottle with a central space for a piece of fruit or cucumber to sit dispersing its flavour throughout the working day. She was also carrying the daughter’s school bag, nonchalantly slung over her shoulder. 

So it was that this pairing wove between the walking school traffic, zipped across the road and deftly bounced up the kerb and on their way. I don’t know if this was their everyday mode of transport for the school run, I don’t know anything about them but this snapshot kick started my writing engine - an inner monologue scattering sentences and questions around my head. I thought about how passive the child was in all of this - a passenger perched on the scooter, facing away from the parent, no dialogue between them, no exchange of observations about the world around them as they travelled, no exertion on the child’s part. Then I thought how it was maybe a positive experience, this way to travel to school - both in close proximity, zipping around obstacles, sharing the fun of the ride without using up petrol. All that is indicative of current times: fast, green, a child balanced precariously but protected by the arms of her mother - a working mother looking sleek and well-presented, what we have termed as a ‘yummy mummy.’

The whole image screamed ‘sign of the times’ to me and made me think of my own times. That made me sad. Many times I missed out on sharing that walk to primary school with my own children. Often they would walk with my parents or the childminder as I had dropped them off as I rushed into work. Ironically getting to the classroom to be there for other people’s children, I wasn’t around for my own.

We often feel guilty as a parent. We lay blame upon our own shoulders for steps we didn’t take and for ones we did that we wish we hadn’t. We can’t remove the imprints left behind by those footsteps but we hope we learn to tread a little more carefully the next time round. I’ve had times that I have been brought back to a decision made long ago and re-evaluated it. Hindsight brings us a wisdom with which to judge directions taken but its experience can cause us to overthink the past, knock our confidence and cloud our judgement moving forward. Add the effects of the menopause into the mix and a spiral of overthinking, self-doubting thoughts can take hold which will only lead to a distorted picture of your past decisions.

We have always made a conscious effort to treat both of our children the same. If one was given a treat for a certain event or achievement, then so would the other when their time came around. Yet there is always that nagging feeling that you did some things for your firstborn that you were unable to replicate the second time around, merely due to the fact that this time you had two children demanding your care and attention. I suppose you could argue that you perhaps had the time and space to mess things up with the first and so get it right more quickly with second or subsequent children. What I do know though, is that none of it was by design.

I am sure that if I was parenting a baby or toddler now, it might have many aspects that look quite different to when I was doing it with births in 1997 and 2001. Straddling the dawn of this new millennium as a novice parent, I set out to do the best that I could. Much has advanced at a rapid pace since then and the world currently feels like an uncertain and often hostile place. I cannot imagine being a new parent now and I struggle still to be a good parent, to take those positive steps, to be supportive to my children now. The parent-child dynamic certainly changes over the years but I still remain the Mum. Often now, they tell me how to do things but they still seek advice, confirmation, someone to listen, to praise and support them. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on myself if they’re still turning to me for those things. I currently feel far removed from that yummy mummy image, that sleek scootering career mother, but perhaps I did get something right in this business of being a Mum.