Open Spaces

It’s true that I have neglected this blog lately. It’s not that I haven’t been writing, for there’s been quite a bit of that going on, but the type of writing I have been working on is different and not really what belongs in the content of these pages. It has taken me the whole month of January to put pen to paper here though. 

A very long month.

Many talk of the January blues, the long slump after the festive indulgences that usually accompany the end of the previous year. This year I have definitely found myself struggling to get out of the hole I have found myself in. I began sliding into it weeks prior to the New Year and there have been days when pulling up the duvet to block out the daylight has felt like the best option.

Though I refrained from making resolutions at the start of the year, for fear of failing with them at the first hurdle, I did use that period of reflection time to give myself a metaphorical kick up the butt. Much of my writing last year, particularly in my books, looked to the positive strategies I had employed and moving forward in developing such a mindset. Yet I knew that I was slumping and wallowing again. The old tune of “Mud, mud, glorious mud,” comes to mind but I needed to get out of that mud pool because it didn’t feel glorious at all.

I have read a lot about menopause, how depression and anxiety are frequently inextricably linked to it yet often not recognised as such. In my reading I have also discovered that this change in a woman’s life, this transition stage involves learning to accept the changes to become at peace with the new or reinvented version of the woman you were. I felt it was time to try to embrace this acceptance concept and for me, that has meant asking for help and pushing myself to step out of my comfort zone in a few ways. 

Without giving myself time and space to overthink and procrastinate I did three proactive things at the start of this month. I took three steps to pull myself out of that hole.

It is quite apt to be writing this today - on the 31st January- as the first step was that I signed up to Red January. In doing so I made a commitment to be active every day of January and as well as it being a fundraising venture for the Mind charity, it was a personal agreement to get outside, be in nature, feel the air and the weather - good or bad - as all of that would benefit me and my wellbeing.

The second step was booking a GP appointment to force myself into discussing what has been going on. No longer choosing the route of struggling alone, feeling that I should be able to do it all without support. Instead, though I was close to cancelling the appointment the day before, I allowed myself to tell the GP that everything wasn’t actually fine. The feeling of relief in having done so is good, as is the fact that we are working on a plan to move forward.

The last of my three steps was to sign up to a creative writing course which I began mid-January and which has stimulated some of the different writing that I mentioned at the start of this piece. The night before the course started I questioned my decision, the morning of the course I asked myself why I was struggling to walk through the door and as my husband dropped me off I resisted the urge to take flight and hide in a coffee shop. But I went into the course, met new people, learnt new things and am starting to write in a new way.

I am not out of that hole yet but I have had a few glimpses of the open space above and around me. I have had a few days when that space is at my fingertips and days when it fades away as I slide again. When I start to doubt my abilities in any way, it is all too easy for the sky to start falling in and to feel incapable of completing the simplest tasks. It has taken me several days to find the words to write this piece and I took two weeks to reply and complete a form that was needed for a commitment later in the year but I did manage to do both eventually.

That’s the trick of it all isn’t it? Never mind what the struggle was in getting there, allow yourself to feel good about the fact that you arrived. For now I am taking one step at a time, ticking off items on my ‘to do’ list and writing down one positive thing each week to add to my jar of 2020. Give me a few more months and the promise of a little summer sunshine and I’ll be up and soaring in that sky. I’m sure I will, won’t I?

Middle-Aged Spread

I have decided that I have reached an age where all the clichés heard as a youngster are starting to come true. The phrases that we have all heard but dismiss as meaningless, actually start to matter when they are applied to you directly. The ones about contentment levelled at people as an obvious spare tyre appears around their middle, for example. I don’t know whether a bulging midlife tummy is more acceptable for a man than a woman, more likely to receive a smile and a knowing nod of “oh he likes his food” almost as a badge of middle-aged honour. For my part, a similar middle-aged spread signals a heap of negatives.

Outfits that I was feeling good about wearing now begin to feel ‘a bit snug’ in places so I find myself moving them along the rail in my wardrobe and reaching for more comfortable and less conspicuous choices. That wish to fade into the background starting to creep in again, the one that I had pushed away with my red shoes and splashes of colour and the mantra of being fabulous at fifty, showing my true colours in my ‘Autumn years,’ all of that swept aside along with the offending outfit. Weight gain is often linked to negative mood, it seems that way for me anyway. It is so easy to slide down that spiralling helter-skelter of grabbing comfort food at a low moment and then feeling low because you have had that ‘naughty treat’ and then feeling the need to grab another, and on and on until somehow you can jump off that ride.

Lately, the phrase ‘you can’t have your cake and eat it’ feels ironic. It seems that I only have to glance sideways at a Victoria sponge and the calories are being absorbed by osmosis and joining hands to dance around my middle whilst sticking out their tongues in a joint act of defiance to say we’re not going anywhere. Motivational messages might extoll the virtues of feeling positive and guilt-free about having that slice of cake but then scales don’t exactly play a fanfare when I step on them in the morning and watch the numbers steadily rise. I may be giving the impression that I am addicted to cake but it serves as a mere example to the many items that I should eat less of.

Recently I have tried to do just that and to up the exercise, all the measures recommended by all the experts. I do seem stuck right now though and that is when the motivation factor is crucial. Some days I feel that I have two doors that I can choose to go through. One door allows me to continue on a path of willpower, with fruit and vegetables scattered amongst the righteous flowers on either side. The pathway is strewn with options of low fat, low sugar - dare I say low interest! The other door looks more attractive from the outside, with a sparkly sign on it saying temptation. Behind that door I can imagine a feast laid out like a banquet, cake stands piled high, chocolate fountains, warming pastry goods, roast potatoes, breads and cheeses. I could go on but I think you get the picture and you might be drooling like me at the thought of it all. Tempting though all that might be, as plates are cleared from this metaphorical feast, labels are revealed - guilt, self-loathing, no control, fat, worthless. That’s the trade-off I guess. The decision I have to make each day, of which door to open.

As middle age engulfs me, it has certainly felt harder to shift weight, to make an impact upon my body shape. Alongside this, emotions can often overwhelm me. So to move forward requires a two pronged attack. I need to deal with both the physical and mental well-being. Sometimes that needs support. The mere act of writing this feels a little like waving a white flag to ask for that support. I have a goal to achieve within the next four weeks. I have a costume waiting to be worn, my evil fairy outfit for my part in a local drama group’s production of Sleeping Beauty. I have to keep visualising that as I stand each day before those doors. I would love to look good in that costume. I would love to own the stage in it, full of sass, not cake. Maybe I should print off a picture of an evil fairy and stick it to my fridge. I will have to give it a good go anyway.

So I am trying to make an impact within those next four weeks. I am trying to keep motivated and not give in to the temptations presented at family birthdays, coffee stops with friends, convenience when rushing to be somewhere. There’s one more cliché coming into focus here: ‘mind over matter.’ I have to work hard on that and also on telling myself not to mind when comments may be made by those who shouldn’t matter to me. I’m working hard to ditch the comfort food and take comfort from the results that I hope come from that effort. I’ll just have to keep you posted on that one.

Searching for Sunsets

Have you seen some of the fantastic sunsets in recent weeks? When the weather has been unseasonably warm for February, we have been afforded the delight of majestic masterpieces as the days draw to a close. Struck by their beauty, I have been caught up in a mood of reflection. I am taking it to be a good sign as I am considering where I stand on my journey and feel an acceptance of my situation. I started this year with several weeks of turmoil as I attempted to look ahead to the unknown. I was obviously searching for answers and a plan for myself within the coming months and felt adrift on a sea of uncertainty. An evocative image, a poetic spin on what felt unsettling at the time, as I kept trying to rationalise what I was doing and make sense of how I would be able to move forward. Steps that I have since taken have brought me to an understanding that no plan actually is a plan for my own well-being.

It is funny how since I have adjusted to where I am now, I have allowed myself to think back to how things were a year ago, and have found myself asking where we now find ourselves. Thankfully the disruption of major house renovations are past and we are all settled into the new spaces created from it. I love the oasis of calm that our loft bedroom has become. Clean lines, limited clutter and views across the rooftops combine to create a positive space. Having had years of trying to unwind at the end of a day in the one room that we had never got round to decorating, a room full of furniture that never really fitted the space, it is now actually restful to go to bed, chat about our day or plans for the week ahead and snuggle up for the night. I don’t know if it is a common practice, but we always had that mentality of it only being us who saw the space so why bother making too much effort for a room that we spent little time awake in. I wish now that we could have put energy into rectifying that years ago, for the calm now is helping to seep into the fabric of our everyday and helping us both to manage better.

My children now have their bedrooms and space for their respective creative outlets: art and music. Now that my eldest has finished university and has his new band embarking on a programme of weekly gigs, there is a lot of music in the house. It isn’t all confined to the studio space that he has either, for the sounds and equipment have started to spill out all over the house. I hope he’s very grateful for the indulgence when he becomes rich and famous! I expect that’s the sunset that he is searching for. Until then, I am guessing that he and his equipment will be permanently resident in our house for many years to come and we will all just have to accommodate that.

I am not sure what this phase of our relationship has become - the parent- child relationship once the child has become an adult. No longer a situation where the parents hold all the power or control cards in the deck, more that we stumble along finding ways to co-exist, live alongside each other, re-establishing rules of living within a shared space. I am not sure we have managed that trick yet and I think some days that a better balance is needed, one where we as the parents don’t have all the responsibilities and all the chores and none of the freedoms that youth and exuberance enjoy. I guess I still have a way to go in adjusting my expectations so that I don’t keep defaulting to the ‘Mum position’ running around and clearing up after everyone. Not having a ‘recognised job’ certainly adds to the perception that my role is the maid and dog walker and whilst I am happy to take on a fair share of all of that, I am still working at speaking up to get some help in this – after all, I don’t make all the mess.

It is true that the physical differences to the house and the circumstances surrounding jobs and career moves have changed, but so too has my outlook. I suppose I have been given the luxury of space and an ability to pause for all this reflection. I have moved forward with my stress management and well-being and although I know I am still climbing that confidence mountain, making footholds for myself with each achievement along the way, I am gaining momentum. The anaemia and associated health issues seem to be more under control since Christmas which in turn, is helping my mood. All of that is positive, even if I have gained a little weight in the process. I’m guessing you can’t have it all! Less comfort eating and more getting out as the weather improves to exercise and feel the sun on my face will help with all of it though. I can’t be the only one who has the winter comfort bulge to tackle?

Then of course, the major difference from a year ago is that I am now writing every day. Having no expectations has meant that I have now relaxed into a writing habit - writing every day and missing the process if there is a day where I have been prevented from doing so. I currently have several projects running at the same time: these blog pieces, scripts to create and edit and a book – where my energies have mostly been channelled. When all the chores of the day are done and the dropping off or picking up of the children, shopping and so on is complete, I am excited to sit at my desk and write. Absorbed in the process, I feel as if I have different coloured threads from scattered garments all around me and as I type, I am working hard to pull together these many strands and weave them into a whole - something magnificent, or at least something that holds together when you hold it up for others to see. The jury is out on that score, for I am yet to get to the feedback stage. As I edit, and re-edit, it is with trepidation that I await responses from initial readings. But that is all for the future, for some sunset yet to be searched out. Now I must admit that I have made a long journey, emotionally and in my writing, and need to be content to play in the long shadows of an afternoon. There is no rush, I might just pause and sip tea and look around a while longer.

As Yet Untitled

Standing outside of the herd, being separate from the crowd, having the courage to stop drifting along with the general tide, whatever you want to call it - doing something different brings with it danger and uncertainty.

Recent blogs have detailed the journey I have been on these past few months to arrive here, an ex-teacher looking to regain some sanity and self-esteem by being different. No longer following the daily work drudge but instead having no particular rules and having space and time to write, to be creative, to do something new.
Many well-wishers have supported this decision and backed it up with positive messages about being brave enough to follow my dreams, not knowing where I will go or what I can achieve until I take the first step – until I take that leap of faith. Well I’m committed to it now. Whilst my immediate family and close friends see the necessity of the decision and indeed, have spurred me on so that I feel supported and am being encouraged to face what lies ahead as an opportunity to be grabbed, I have entered the New Year wondering how much of a rose-tinted facade I am building for myself. Am I just kidding myself with all this talk of writing and creativity? Have I not just dressed up an inability to cope in the restraints of the job I had, in a romanticised scene where I am acting as the protagonist – a writer whose character has just been given the space she has craved all these years to blossom? Should I be pursuing such a pretence or just knuckle down and find myself a real job, like everyone else does? That’s a lot of questions.

Having just watched a wildlife documentary I was struck at how easy it is for the predators of life to pick off the weakest, those struggling to keep up at the fringes of the pack. I am all too aware that I have my own inner predators waiting in the corners of my mind. Doubt, comfort-eater, self-criticism and many more that could so easily manifest themselves. In order to survive these I know I need to be somewhat proactive. In years gone by, I have easily sunk into a routine of watching junk TV, eating junk food and following a junk sort of lifestyle when I felt low, or preoccupied by negative thoughts. Having done so well with my weight loss and trying so hard to make the most of myself, the ‘fabulous at fifty’ initiative, I really cannot afford to let it all slip as the year unfolds, even though I feel myself moving to the fringes of the societal pack at the moment.

Next week I would have been starting the Spring Term, if I had not resigned, something which has been my life’s pattern for as long as I can remember. I went from being at school myself, to training to teach at university, to teaching my first class - all governed by the academic calendar. Instead, I don’t know exactly what I will be doing. Aware of how I might be feeling, both my husband and a good friend have made arrangements so that I am doing something special on two days of that week and I have had many more friends make it clear that they are around if I need them too. I feel very lucky that I have such people in my life who are looking out for me. Now is the time to look out for myself too.

There are many mindfulness sites extolling the virtues of positive words and deeds. I read one quote exploring how much difference one positive thought can make, how trying to start each day with one can make an impact upon the rest of it. Like the Spike Milligan poem describing the infectious nature of a smile, treating yourself kindly and actively focusing on the positive must have a ripple effect. It is an outcome that you have to actively pursue though, like training an inner voice to remark upon the positive from the everyday.

So I have started my year by writing each day, writing whatever pops into my head. I am sure a lot of it will be of no consequence to anyone, but the mere act of writing it is a process I am finding cathartic and positive, so I guess it does not matter what I am writing. For now, the pages of my writing diary form their own exclusive audience and that is enough.

Change is frightening, but nothing new happens without change. Some things will be worse, some will be better. I may find it hard to come to terms with some things, most probably things that I have not yet even considered. For now, I must not allow myself to worry about what this might include. Face forward and keep going, nobody knows what awaits them around the next turning so in that, I am not alone. This chapter of my life has no predetermined direction, no name to describe it and no designated end point. In a year’s time, I may have some answers or some shape to this chapter, all of that remains to be seen. Until then, the chapter remains untitled and is perhaps as all good writers find, the last part of the writing jigsaw to fall into place. When researching the writing process, it is apparent that a good title is an organic process that emerges from the writing – as the words fall onto the page, not – as in many Literacy lessons in classrooms, - an imposed label on which to write a formulaic response. So here I am, Mollie the blogger with an article: As Yet Untitled.

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.