Category Archives: Family

I’ve been thinking

I watched the Northern Lights in Iceland and trekked 10km around the lakes at the foot of Matterhorn on the 150th Anniversary of the first accent to its summit.

I experienced a 5.3 magnitude earthquake whilst visiting New Zealand and bathed in a log fire heated bath under the stars while hiking around the Banks Peninsula.

I’ve fed wild Turtles on the Dalyan Delta, hunted the monster on Loch Ness,  rode a camel in the Sahara Desert, overcome my fear of the ocean to go swimming from a boat in the Aegean Sea and lay for hours on a blanket watching a metoer shower above our house with love of my life.

I gave birth, to one of the best people I know, and married the other.

I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, Made friends, lost friends, I’ve impressed people and depressed people and I’m writing all this here to remind myself that while day to day my life seems ordinary and it’s easy to get stuck in a rut, even the most ordinary lives can be full of adventure.

Yes I know it’s corporate bullshit – but

Love Candles

Line the pockets of the card shop day…

Sell chocolate at extortionate prices day…..

Put too much meaning in a bunch of flowers day….

Valentines Day. I know it’s all corporate bullshit designed to make money, but still, I like it. Or I would if we celebrated, my husband doesn’t. He doesn’t see the point. Because of all the reasons I pointed out above and more, but I can’t help being disappointed.

He laughs at me for being so soppy, it’s good natured but he’s bemused that I feel the need to express my love for him on this one day – when he knows I love him, and I know he loves me all year round, so I don’t bother any more. We’ve never made a a fuss of valentines day, we hardly make a fuss of each other, dating is something we’ve never done. Meals out yes, we do that of plenty, usually because it’s a birthday, or it’s got too late to cook (this happens more than I should admit)  – But those surprising, romantic gestures for each other we rarely make for each other.

We’ve been together 9 years. married nearly 2 and I can count one one hand the number of times I’ve been truly surprised by him – and those times have been truly special – They really have. So do I put too mush weight on Valentines day? Probably. Does knowing that make me want to celebrate any less? Unfortunately not. BUT  Do I love my husband, valentines or not. Definitely,

 

When is a rational argument an irrational thing?

Irrational behaviors of individuals include taking offense or becoming angry about a situation that has not yet occurred, expressing emotions exaggeratedly (such as crying hysterically), maintaining unrealistic expectations, engaging in irresponsible conduct such as problem intoxication, disorganization, or extravagance, and falling victim to confidence tricks,

A rational argument becomes an irrational thing – when you are talking to an irrational person because no matter how many times you attempt to talk something through you’ll just talk your self in circles and you’re wasting your time.

When someone has decided their view of the world is the ONLY view of the world, however bizarre and inaccurate, when they are prepared to make bold brash statements that has huge fall out – and are so unwilling to even attempt to meet you half way then to keep trying is irrational.

 

So – this hurts more than a just a little bit.

My son didn’t have a security blanket when he was younger. No scrap of blanket that we couldn’t wrangle from his grip, or a teddy we had to magic away in the night to wash and dry lest he realise it had disappeared, so I’ve never *really* understood the seeming emotional turmoil these youngsters went through when they favourite blankie was gone…..Until now.

In the last week my world has been turned upside down and my security blanket hasn’t just been taken away for a wash, it’s been stolen. Yanked from my grip with me kicking and screaming and I am completely and utterly devastated. My family – the most important thing in the world to me have been cut in two by just one person via a simple text message and it feels as though things can never be the same again.

I’m bereft with no solution in sight and the person who is the ONLY person who can move towards fixing this, is also the person who is is responsible for breaking it in the first place, and they’re so willingly oblivious to not only the pain they’ve caused me but the ramifications of their actions to us all they’re completely unprepared to even try and face what they’ve done.

I’m heartbroken over what all this could mean.

 

 

Heavy hearted

Yesterday we had a death in the family, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel. I shed a few tears last night and again while writing this but I can’t explain why. Was I crying for myself, for his children or for what might have been.

Richard Kelly, was my godfather, my dad’s best friend, ex husband of my cousin and father of 2.

We hadn’t spoken in years.

In 1985 when my Dad died, I didn’t just lose a father I lost an entire family. For reasons known only to them they chose to turn their backs on 2 little girls without a father. In my opinion some were just selfish, some were young with young families of their own and other priorities, others were too young to make the decision for themselves and took their lead from the adults.

I’ve never written about it much before because while of course my history has helped shape who I am today, it does not define me. I hold no bitterness or malice towards my family in fact when I got married last year some of my Dad’s side were there in the evening to celebrate with us, including Richard’s ex wife and daughter, because as an adult I have formed connections with them.

But, while Richard wasn’t there at the wedding or for milestones before, his presence was always a constant in my life. He was always in the background. He knew my entire family on both sides and and has always been a familiar name. Many, particularly the funny stories of my Dad start with his involvement. His children often spoke of him, and photos regularly appeared on facebook. In my early teens when I decided to try and connect with my paternal family, it was Richard I contacted and through him that I met my one aunt and a whole lot of other extended family members, we fell out of touch again, because as a teen I had other priorities and then life got in the way.

As an adult we reconnected briefly and made plans to meet once again but that fell through. Unfortunately it was while I was at a particularly low point myself andI thought that was because he didn’t care and didn’t really want to know. I made a decision to stop trying  but as time went on I always secretly thought that one day we’d meet. But one day never came, and now it never will. I regret not trying now, and I understand us not meeting wasn’t because of him, or me, but because of circumstance, but hindsight is a wonderful thing.

So who I am I crying for? The missed opportunities? Another connection to the Dad I barely knew disappearing? or through empathy for the terrible loss I know his children, family and friends are experiencing. Maybe it’s for all of these things, but through my tears I’ve made the decision to stop “not trying” –  there’s a whole lot of other people out there I need to try harder with and I don’t want there to be another time where the day can never come.

Real Breasts are the best

I was having a conversation with a friend earlier today about parenting, how to deal with the big things while still maintaining open communications and it reminded me of the time we caught the boy looking at porn. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a normal teenage boy looking at naked breasts.

But it was time for the talk. Not the birds and bees talk, he’s known about that for long enough. We have a policy in this house where by if he asks a question he gets a truthful answer within the remit of his understanding. So, the sex talk came up a while ago. No. This talk was about women’s rights. About sexism and exploitation, about the damage pictures and videos like this do to girls self esteem when they think that is what they need to be to please a man and a bit about him and potentially unrealistic expectations.

I then showed him this, the real breast gallery.

It’s a fantastic project to show teenage boys and girls . It’s a non sexual look at womens breasts, It normalises the differences, it shows what real bodies look like in all colours shapes and sizes and if you’re a parent of a teenager I highly recommend you bookmark it for yourself for when these discussions arise.

Being Brave – My body

Being Brave

This is me – part naked, exposed and posting this before I chicken out – this is in response the BBC article – Are women’s bodies still beautiful after pregnancy? I read and subsequently shared it on Facebook  and it led to a really refreshing conversation with a group of my friends – all  mothers – about their feelings about their bodies.

Stretch marks, cesarean scars, weight gain, between us we had all felt that something was at fault with our bodies. It made me feel – for want of a better expression. Less alone.

I was stupid while pregnant I ate and ate and ate, young and niave so thought “it’s baby weight – it’ll come off”. I was a size 10 -12 when I fell pregnant yet came out of the hospital a size 16 with added stretch marks and flabby bits. The only time I’ve fit into a 12 since was when I was on antidepressants – I got better then my back and hip problems started and the weight piled back on.

Oftentimes I hate my body – I have no real hang ups on how other people view me,  But I really do have issues with how I FEEL and I how I view myself and that feeling is compounded by the heatwave we’re currently experiencing.  Spring, Autumn, Winter – hell even in the last few summers I’ve been able to hide behind jeans, jumpers and shirts, I can dress and pretend, but in this heat there is nowhere to so.

It’s uncomfortable to be fat. Clothes don’t fit – summer clothes are designed for waifs and in shorts and vests everything is on show. The fat on my thighs – because WHY DO THEY MAKE WOMENS SHORTS SO SHORT, the stretch marks on my arms, the creases on my back, it’s all there for the world to see  – and I feel uncomfortable, so very uncomfortable and exposed.

Some one sent a card into postsecret:

Being Fat Is like having your most humiliating "secret" visible for the world to see and JUDGE

 

And they hit the nail on the head. While in reality I don’t care what YOU think of me, it only takes one story in media, one television programme about thin being beautiful, one stupid stupid facebook post or hurtful remark in the street to reinforce my feelings about myself. And I shouldn’t feel this bad about being me.

I’m 32, a Mom of one, recently married with a great job. I’ve overcome homelessness, selfishness of others and health issues to be where I am today and here isn’t such a bad place…

…So I’ve been brave and taken this photo. This is me laid bare, I can look at this and see the back fat and the split ends or I can look at this and see history. Every ounce of that weight has been on a journey with me and I need to be grateful for who I am and what I have, and so should all of the other ladies who were talking to me today. I have the greatest of respect for you my friends. You exude confidence and are so much fun to be around from the exterior no one would know of the body issues beneath.

It has taken so much courage for me to take and post this photo ( no really there was nearly tears and I’m home alone) but you’re WE’RE  all beautiful and think we just need to believe that of ourselves.