Time for a Chat.

A typical 4 year old, if there is such a thing, has a vocabulary of about 1500 words – impressive in such a short space of time. So you would think that by the teenage years their eloquence would extend beyond “No, uh, M-u-m and what?” All the rich tapestry of the English language laid out before them and it is reduced to a smattering of mumbles, when pushed, and a string of hashtags or a winky face emoji as their thumbs work overtime on their stream of messages in one online chat forum or another. It seems at times that they have entered some secret club that you, as the parent, can only view from the outside. They certainly don’t want to engage in conversation about their daily activities and if you do hear them speaking, it’s often in some new and strange language that I won’t embarrass myself now by attempting to quote any examples from. There’s nothing worse than a Mum trying to be ‘down with the kids’ and I’m sure we all remember the cringing feelings when our parents attempted to be cool in front of our teenage friends, way back when.

Now my kids have entered this teenage and beyond phase, it can be with some regret that I nostalgically look back on their toddler years – the time when they asked questions every single minute of the day – and think why didn’t I appreciate the value of this at the time? Why? That’s what my children asked constantly – why is this or that the way it is? At the time, it is easy to pass off questions with a quick response to close down their line of enquiry or to think if only they could be quiet for just an hour so I can drift off mentally to a place of peace and quiet. But at that point in time, to them you are the font of all knowledge and this doesn’t last for long. How many times more recently have I heard them scoff “Mum, don’t you know what that is?”

Perhaps our household has always been a chatty place. As my two children grew up they were always included in conversation around the dinner table and although encouraged to wait their turn and be polite enough to listen to others, they knew their opinion and contributions would be valued. I recently came across a quote which I find poignantly significant at this time in my life:

“Listen earnestly to anything your children want to tell you, no matter what. If you don’t listen eagerly to the little stuff when they are little, they won’t tell you the big stuff when they are big, because to them all of it has always been big stuff.”  (Catherine M Wallace)

Joking aside, I am grateful that my kids – who are mostly grown-up now – do still want to talk to me when they have something on their minds. There has been a patch where this was difficult, where the adolescent hormones combined with diagnosed anxiety and depression in such a way that it felt almost impossible for one of my children to speak to me. Almost 18 months of talk therapy and a whole heap of hard work by the family have helped to address this and I’m feeling that we are now sharing things again. Whether this sharing has been little or big stuff, and some of it has indeed been big stuff, it is worth remembering that the seemingly small step taken to talk about it has been a gigantic leap of faith in making the decision to do so.

And what about me? How am I in conversation? The phrase – “Do you have time for a chat?” conjures up different connotations for me, some negative and others positive. If you’re called into your line manager’s office for a chat, it’s rarely to be about the latest developments on a TV programme or to plan a social event together. Sometimes I will send a message to my husband via text / messenger and receive the reply “Let’s chat about it later.” I know that means that the subject matter is going to be up for lengthy debate later and neither of us are sure what the outcome may be.

Meeting a friend for a chat might go one of many ways. Often it is because one or both of us need the space to unleash all the niggles that have been grinding us down over the last months and say them out loud to someone that we know will listen and not judge. Other times, amongst the niggles, is a bigger, more demanding problem that needs airing and a friend can be the support mechanism for this. Food, drink and chatting with friends can help to make the world a better place, even if only for that moment in time.

A chat about no particular thing is also a great form of therapy – talk about whatever comes into your head first and just go with it. To an outsider, I am sure that’s what a lot of my conversations with friends look like. But the process of this - being with good company, those with shared interests and common experiences - that is a great recipe for a successful chat session. Sometimes you don’t even have to say out loud what is really troubling you – the random other bits of chat act as a cover or code and those who know you well, know to keep that going so that you can process the difficult stuff and everyone in the room knows that’s just what you needed.

And now I come to group chats – you know the ones you can set up on Messenger? I’m quite the technophobe, in fact setting up my writing into a blog was a challenge for me and one for which I had to call upon the support of a tech-savvy friend to complete. Is it a good thing that we have the technology available to be able to hold a multi-way conversation without any need for the physical presence of those people in the room?

Group chats have been great when trying to organise a social event or give details for rehearsals to the whole drama group that I am part of. Sometimes, a couple of members of the group chat divert from the intended point of the original message and if you weren’t online at the time you open the chat to a stream of comments, thumbs up signs and GIFs that you have to scroll through, emphasising just how late you were to this party chat!

It is true that I am guilty of holding several group chats at once and then I really have to be awake and aware of which comments I am sending to who. It would be difficult to explain a flirty message intended for your husband to a group set up with work colleagues about an important meeting in the schedule.

However, I have found myself checking my chats daily and it has been good to be able to access advice from friends when I have needed it or to check where my family members are and whether they are intending on being home for dinner. The benefit over texts being that I can at least see that they have received a message, even if they choose not to respond.

I don’t think electronic chat can replace the real thing though, for all the reasons I’ve explored already. To talk to each other, in person, face-to-face is to be human and individual amongst the daily crowd of automatic responses and faceless encounters. “Do you have time for a chat?” Always, for my family, my friends, I will always make time.

 Have you ever been caught out in a group chat?

What do you think about the social media opportunities for chat and how our children engage with these?

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. 

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?