Epiphanies & finding one’s new place in the world

Changes, changes… 2018 is turning out to be a bit of a roller coaster ride, but in a good way. This morning I had a surge of contrary thoughts as is my way and, also as is my way, I just wanted to vomit them at the computer screen. It helps me to get it all straight in my head, it always has… However, these thoughts were fairly random but not something I could ‘release into the internet’ under any of my current guises: Until I thought of you dear readers. Is it time, do you think to re consider where this blog fits in my life now? Because, to be honest, that has been the problem in the last few years, I couldn’t see how it was of ‘use’ to me.

In the crazy struggle of writers block that just went on and on, then there were kids that didn’t want to be featured on a blog or Twitter or Facebook, also being pulled left right and centre with health issues, I really did try a few times to use this space, which I’m sure you can see if you look back but it never really gelled. Perhaps it still won’t perhaps again I’ll be looking at this post in a year and thinking ‘Oh man..’

Although I think it might work this time.

I started writing again in February… Words came spewing, venting of emotions, some harsh, some whimsical, they spiralled out of me splashing across the screen in a mad ejection of thoughts. Poems mostly, it’s a start I thought and I was right, I’ve tried hard not to force myself to write letting the whimsy take me where it will, no pressure. Why February? Well, I think I’ll put that credit at my Doctors door for sorting out the total mess that had been happening since 2011 and my bumpy ride with early onset menopause… That and a couple of other personal factors. It feels like an epiphany, an awakening of a sort. Long may it last.

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So, here I am with my muddled head of contrary thoughts and a place that might be suitable to vent them? I wonder… I feel, right now, that in so many ways I am in a transition period. I’m not the first, I mean how many books, films and documentaries are there about women needing to ‘find themselves?’ As much as I’d bl**dy love to f*ck off to Greece for a month like Shirley Valentine, it’s not going to happen, I’ve not so much ‘lost myself’ as I just kinda put ‘me’ on a shelf for 12 years and now I’m trying to find out if I still fit. My darling girl is about to end her primary school career and is flexing the fingers of independence, my gorgeous boy has feet the same size as me and is almost as tall, he has to face his first school year without his sister around and secretly he’s hating that thought. The husband is finding his feet driving a desk rather than a van but is very good (bossy as all hell) at managing his people. Which leaves me… No longer required as much for the everyday fire fighting that first almost 12 years of motherhood have demanded.

I’ve been easing back to life. For the last 3 years I’ve been working part-time which often can feel like an escape into the ‘adult’ world. This last school year I’ve attended college once a week to learn silver smithing which has been really wonderful. On top of that we as a family have been enjoying little freedoms… like letting the kids who swim like fishes go into the sea by themselves on holiday. They pop out to the newsagent on errands and at weekends the make their own breakfasts. The little things add up. Since February though, I have felt an ever-increasing build up of what can only be described as pressure inside me. With the husband working from home my head space and me time has gone. Someone else is always in the house, chatting on his never-ending phone calls and just being present. It a claustrophobic feeling which I think I am getting used to but begrudgingly so. The need to escape and be just me without the labels is immense. I love being a Mum, Wife, sister, daughter, friend etc… but this shaking the labels off has always been a major issue for me. (My old reader will be nodding.)

My solution? (Yes, I do have one) I’m off to London on my own to just be. It’s all booked as much as I want it to be, hotel, train… I’m escaping to the city to spend some time with myself. To go to the V&A, maybe the national gallery? Maybe see a show? Maybe sit in Covent Garden and drink very expensive wine and watch the world go by? Maybe stay in bed until 10am and get crumbs on the sheets? I don’t know, I’m not planning anything because if it’s just me, I don’t need to, do I? No ‘Mum! I’m hungry/bored’ ‘Can we have?’ no worrying about Mr.K not wanting to eat curry if I do (he’s easy going to be honest but he’s still my third child and I want a time out of caring).

An epiphany if I ever had one.

 

Perhaps this is something I can share with you? Here in this space? That would be good.

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Staring at a blank page again…

Its time for a mind ramble..

It’s not like I haven’t tried to write, although to be fair to me (which I do try to do, even with a propensity to be too hard on myself.) life moves so fast and I’m often pulled in so many directions that my head spins.  As each day closes I remind myself to feel blessed that I reached the end of it with everyone I love safe and well. Compared to this, this full life of “stuffs” the need to write is just a niggle which I file mentally under “Things to do next week” along with printing off my endless back log of digital photos and actually doing some housework.

Sometimes the niggle is louder, so I muse on Facebook. Short, sharp often humorous (I hope) status updates observing the latest thing to tickle my fancy, the niggle is short-lived, easily placated and gets burried as I’m pulled into the next thing, endless refereeing, creating culinary masterpieces (scoffs loudly) school runs, evening clubs (theirs not mine, I have no social life!), preparing for trips, ironing work clothes, watching them display their latest achievements on the trampoline… and I do so love it all. It’s good this life. A pause button would of course make it better.

Today I find myself with a little extra time due to school play rehearsals, so I thought, get on with it, and then I thought, I have nothing to say. This discussion has ended my writing aspiration so many time I can not even begin to calculate, it may even have happened daily since my last post… Today I decided I would tell you this. Which makes today a very different day indeed.

In most respects its been a very normal Wednesday! I get more head space on Wednesdays as a rule, the small people have a woodland wander to school which means I get to drop them off earlier. After a brief logistical chat with one of my most fabulous friends, about various to-ings and fro-ings of children I headed home to coffee and i-pad time before work. I work part-time and this morning was a quiet one with friendly customers and chats about camping, puppies and the inability of any human to multitask. After work I wandered through the town running the odd errand, indulging on my favourite pass time of saying hello and exchanging news with people I know, spreading smiles. I was even brave enough to say hello to someone I thought I recognised from Instagram! (It was her too! which is even lovelier.) On arriving home I was greeted as usual by the black and white ninjacat, aka Twinkle, who has mellowed with age to being passably polite to most people and occasionally loving towards me, the food provider. Lunch was an indulgence of goats cheese and chorizo and then I found myself facing the dilema – I could clean/wash/iron/vacumn/sort/tidy etc or I could crochet/sew/read/game etc or I could write…. Guess what won.

Life changes.  Gone is the need to tweet to maintain adult contact in a world filled with nappies and peppa pig. No more, the desire to invite the world of the internets to know my every movement and dinner, it seems.  I never was one for selfies.  The daughter (now 10, I know, when the hell did that happen!) is adverse to my sharing her picture or doings on a web site (and I repect that) so any drivel I do splash onto this page about the smalls needs permission, although its usually granted.  The cats, adoreable as they are, are much the same as anybody elses. I never did write much about Mr. K as it would end up being a moan (possibly) and I’m much too loyal to mouth off so publicly about his good self.  I find myself a little bereft of subject matter.  So please forgive me if another year or so passes before I darken your door again.

 

 

Do that thing!

You know that thing, when you stop doing something you once did. You stop doing it for so long that it becomes almost impossible to start again, yet you want to start again but for what ever reason you feel you can’t. That.

All the reasons stream around your head; I can’t just now, I’m too tired/brain fogged/have nothing to say/busy/have nothing to say/out of practice/have still more nothing to say…

If you love doing something enough, you know you will come back to it when the time is right, yet that is an excuse too, it’s not the right time.

Such is my relationship with this little bloggy thing.

it’s been such a long time (over a year, yet I wasn’t very good at it before that.) I feel rusty, I still don’t have much to say and yet so much! it’s been a very big year, lots of ups and many many downs, life changes, learning curves, the road has been bumpy with cow sized pot holes.  I stopped talking and sharing somewhere along the way, I abandoned twitter, couldn’t manage more that naff facebook updates. I stopped writing, the stream of images in my head dried up. There was nothing but cotton wool and tinnitus.

Just sitting here shows me how far I have come in the last few months.

Perhaps its time. Perhaps not, I’m nervous. WordPress looks different, I feel out of my depth, the number of times I have said to myself “will you just get bl**dy on with it woman!”

So I took a deep breath and opened up this page and just started spewing type at it, which is pretty much all I ever did anyway. Perhaps I won’t say another thing until January 2016, perhaps I will find myself here again tomorrow. I really don’t know! I guess, like the rest of my road to recovery, its all about pacing, about taking one day at a time, about feeling my way.

It’s all about me!!!

*sniggers*

Pulled in all directions whilst trying to find center

I found myself pulled to my blog today. I haven’t been neglecting it as such I just have had other things to do and write and it’s level of importance has diminished to what it used to be.  I clicked on new post because that’s what you do when your fingers itch and your mind swirls and you know you need to write, if not for the desire to have something to say or that others need to read but for the sanity ‘this mess must leave my head now’ factor.  This seems to be what I come here for, good or bad for others it works for me.

And this mess this time? What is it? It’s about transients, the fluid movement of people through your life, they touch it, they move on, some stay, some you wish didn’t but mostly as we move through life people go.  On a much more Micro scale but still seemingly important to me is the transience of Twitter.  This week saw the deletion of 2 accounts, people with whom I converse almost daily who decided for good reasons to delete their accounts. In both instances I talk to both of these people in other areas of twitter so they have not left me completely but the fall out from them deleting, seeming to disappear had a marked effect on those they left behind. On both days their absence was almost immediately noted and their was genuine loss that they had gone. I found myself saddened by this but I did note that as in reality, life went on at an alarming quick pace.  “They chose to go, that’s bad, I’m sad, moment passed, continue, as you were.”

I mused to myself, if I left cyberspace today, who would actually miss me?

Please DON’T leave comments saying ‘I would!’ as nice as they would be that’s not what me having this rant is about; also I’m not planning on doing it but in reality it has bought me up short and left me feeling a little cold.  IF I was to delete my blogs, delete my Twitter accounts and Facebook, scrap my emails, change my phone, remove myself from the internet and just not be; How long would people care.

The answer is not bloody long at all because there are thousands of women blogging their souls into the internet, millions striving for witty recognition on Twitter and unless someone is family, a soul mate or on your actual physical doorstep it’s out of sight out of mind. Perhaps that in itself is why we do it? Why twitter and blogging works for me so well and so many other individual who find it a life line, we come, we vent, we feel better and if we chose to ‘get a life’ we can at the flick of a switch, the press of a button. Or we can reinvent ourselves and come right back, fresh-faced, a new persona with no history or baggage and start again.

Food for thought….

A change for the good…

Thank you for everyone who commented on Blinkers Removed post, you really did help me think through my options! I do love to blog but don’t really feel like a ‘Mummy Blogger’ just a woman who blogs about what ever catches her interest, the fact that I am a Mummy is (fabulous) just another label added to a long line of labels.  It’s time to stop thinking like a label and bring back the Me…

I can’t promise I will leave the blog looking like this, as a woman I reserve the right to change my mind indefinitely 😉 and I can’t promise to keep the blog clean any more either…

I may smut, I may swear, I may rant….

I may not…

Liberating isn’t it 😀

While I have your attention I’d just like to say THANK YOU  for reading and continuing to read. I write for two reasons; to get stuff out of my head where it does no good at all and to be read. I appreciate your visits even if you don’t comment. *drops to knees sobbing* Please comment! 😉

Onwards and upwards then xx