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The Shadows

The mind has taken some dark roads this past weekend and I feel I’m having to dig myself out of a big pot hole that’s gone and planted itself in the middle of my pathway. I have felt rage and that has been difficult to emotionally deal with. I had a picture in my head of me bobbing around on a stormy sea and the lifeboat has been barely adequate. It is amazing how a sentence delivered to me, can send me off into the stormy waters. I have insecurities that have blown right up and they have left me floundering. I want peace to come, and it will not. I want acceptance to come, and she’s not present. I have so many expectations of others and high ideals, and when I feel they are not met, I sulk and I lament and for a while I will rage, and I spew, much like the stomach has done these last few days! I expect so much of others, and my expectations often lead to a feeling of let down. It is impossible to meet my standards and yet I still hold up the banner and expect a lot. Both from myself and from the others around me. And it is very hard to accept that another will have a different perspective to me and I will often judge them or me as wrong.

The shadow me can be a cruel woman. Unforgiving of others and unforgiving of myself. It is like a line gets crossed and I close off myself, as I feel I have been hurt. And it is then hard to unfurl that which has been hurt. I have this picture of a hedgehog in the middle of the road and she’s so fearful that she’s tightened up into a big spikey ball. And there is the thought that at any moment she will get flattened by a car, or a truck or a bicycle. That is how I have felt this weekend, prickly and jagged on the outside and vulnerable and soft inside. It feels like I am in the process of being squished flat and I do not like either the picture or the sensation it provokes. I have lines that I draw down, and it is hard to be accepting when one of my ‘lines’ has been crossed. I have felt two lines crossed this weekend and I’m having to sit with the fall out, which is never easy. I have realised how much I have valued the relationships in my life. And two relationships have and are being tested. Or I would re-word that and say I am having to adjust to changes in relationships that have greatly surprised and tested me. I have felt a stepping back on my side as I have felt distance stepping in. And there is an opportunity here to work with my spikey feelings and be vulnerable and share, at least with myself, how I am feeling right now.

I have a past experience of relationships that have gone through a change and I would often lick my wounds in my bedroom in my splendid isolation. I am a grown up now and I can recognise this old fear coming into play here and I can see these reflections playing out in the relationships in my life. And I can choose another path now and I can realise that I am okay in these changing times and I can authentically say that I will navigate through and find my equilibrium again. My life is rich with colour and creativity. It is rich with many beautiful relationships, including the one I have with myself. I know my worth now and I know I will be okay. And I can say to these relationships in heartfelt truth ‘enjoy your space, and I will enjoy mine’. And I will trust that when we meet up again, we will find the richness and the friendship renewed. I will anchor myself in the richness of my life and accept that this is what is here now and I will enjoy our time together, which I have come to love and appreciate. And I hope that is enough.

On being angry

I have been angry today and I will own it as mine. I have been triggered by circumstances that have reminded me of past relationships and I’m not sure how I now feel. I have had times in my life where I have felt let down by others and there was a period of my life when I very alone. Sitting in my bedroom with no special friends to talk to or party with. I vowed I would never put another before a relationship and I believe I have kept that promise to myself, for all of my adult years. When I was younger I had girlfriend’s that dumped me as soon as a boyfriend came on the scene. It was a very painful experience for me which happened quite a few times in the college years. Aloneness became my familiar friend and my books became my solace from the pain of isolation. In the past years I have made some really good friends and I have invested much into these friendships. I know that change comes, and this is when friendships become a testing ground for me. Old triggers rise to the surface and I am having to hold myself within the trigger and work out what feels okay and what does not. And right now that is where I am. I have to allow people space, and give myself space too. I have too much respect for myself and will not side-line myself. I value the relationships I have and I hope I am valued too for what I have given and still give. I am a loving, giving person and yet I still have my edges. And right now I feel my edges have become spikey and jagged. I am feeling my way round the spikes to the core of my anger and hoping I can soften it and create some compassion for myself and the hurt I feel. It is old patterns that have come bubbling up to the surface and I am being as compassionate as I can right now. I wonder what Helen would say? and now I am off to have a virtual session with her in my mind.

In Love of Washing Machines

There is a feeling of heavy anger permeating this mind and body today and I have to allow and accept its presence. The stomach has spewed on and off since Friday and I am weary from it. It makes the ground erode and the fear creep back in. I had thought those times were now past. I think I was rather naïve. I have introduced new meds and new foods and the body has rebelled and said ‘no!’. Sometimes I feel there is a deliberate sabotage that gets switched on and I know these thoughts are not helpful. And yet right now it feels to be my truth. The spewing stomach waited till we were in the car heading home on Friday. And my beloved was then pedal to the metal attempting to get me to the home and the toilet as fast as he could. Suffice it to say I am so happy for washing machines and washable floors. It is so hard not to berate and scream about the experience. Everything gets cancelled, and I take myself off to a darken room and skulk in the shadows. When the spewing hits, it comes out of nowhere to here now and it often occurs at inconvenient moments when I am not at home. Leaving me physically ill and emotionally ragged.

I have chosen to still ‘live’ this life as much as I am able, and yet that comes with anxiety and deep fear when I am out. Often I don’t eat in fear of the spewing stomach erupting and have to be flexible with outside home arrangements because of these challenges. I have chosen to still live this life and yet it is not easy. I could easily retire into these four walls and never go out again, and yet I value the courage to go out and still be in the world. I will tread this path of wellness, and in time will move through the anxiety and fear, to a greater place than where I reside now. And I know there will be setbacks along this healing path and I will be as loving as I can to myself. Courage and resilience are my new mantras as I continue on this healing journey this year.

Homeward Bound

We are homeward bound today after a week in our forest retreat. This has been such a haven of beauty and of ‘unreality’ and I feel some trepidation in our return to reality. I have felt cocooned here amongst the these beautiful trees and I have taken solace from the landscape and from the time I have had with my Beloved. It is like we both unfurl here and become vulnerable and honest and very emotionally ‘here’. I have been honest about my struggles emotionally and my high ideals I place on myself. I admit here that I do find it hard to relax and ‘be’ in the moment. Ah those words are my Achilles heel! I believe a lifetime of ‘trying to relax’ has rendered me useless at this! When I truly relax, the logical mind has disappeared for a time, and that appears to be difficult to achieve. Ah there I go again, forever measuring my abilities and putting pressure on myself to do, or be something that in the moment, I am a long way from. There feels an almost ‘always’ pressure to ‘be’ something. Whether it’s ‘being’ the romantic, sensual me in the woods or the ‘I’m getting my house in order’ kind of girl. It feels rather difficult to accept where I am and say ‘I’m just going to be ‘this’ me, whatever that is right now’. There is always a striving to ‘do’ rather than ‘be’ and I get exhausted by it. And so there has to be a finding of another way which, right now, I am in the dark without a compass or a torch. I guess if I go back to logic and feeling, then that gives me some landscape to work with. Not work as such, just a meeting point where I can think and feel where these two view points meet. And maybe in this contemplation, I can drop the pressure and just observe the feelings that bubble up inside me. It is hard to do this, as I am always worrying about the others in my life. Am I showing up enough? Am I being enough? Questions that I think I could probably do with asking myself. And yet they get lost in my desire to please others before myself.. Am I showing up for myself right now? and how can I be enough for myself right now? Now those are the gentle questions I will sit with today as we make our return back to our civilised life.

A Dialogue with Helen

Sleep is elusive again so I am here in my room sitting in my chair, contemplating where I am right now. I have had a nice day today and that has felt satisfying. I managed to ‘process through’ some anger earlier and I have found some peace. I felt Helen, my therapist who has died, sitting with me on the window ledge, discussing the merits of compromise with me. Ah how I miss Helen and our therapy sessions. We used to discuss how black and white my thought processes used to be and my unwillingness to venture into the grey areas or the middle of something. I would announce ‘this is me and I don’t see anything else’ and Helen would say to me ‘I know that’s how you feel right now and yet I will not collude with you Susie, I see something else in you and I don’t agree with your stance!’ I used to rage and lament and slowly I would see another perspective. And in time my world view changed. I became more willing to compromise my fixed position and so many things began to shift for the better in my life.

Today, I took everything I had learnt with Helen and managed to find a compromise within myself. This created a change and a feeling of shifting emotions from anger to peace, to satisfaction. Simon said to me that this shows my resilience now and for me, it demonstrates that I have changed. No longer, Mrs Black or White. I can stand in the grey area, jig and dance and have a party. I can feel into what I need and make decisions from there. No longer following old family scripts of this or that, I can say ‘there is another way and I will find it for myself’. I feel liberated by this and rather proud that I can utilise what I learnt in my relationship with Helen, outside of the therapy room and directly into my life. That feels so good! And even though Helen has died, she has left a lasting legacy in our relationship that spanned those twenty years. She said to me, towards the end, ‘you will have an internalised version of me and you wont forget what you’ve learnt here’. And now I understand what she was saying. I so miss our sessions, I so miss the bouncing of my ideas and Helen’s ‘bothering’ of me. And it is four months since her passing and I am sad and I still feel that grief welling up. I feel that loss and yet I am comforted by Helen’s presence in my mind. I say ‘what would Helen say?’ and I begin a dialogue with her. I think right now she would be nodding her head and saying ‘you did well today in unpacking your emotions, and you see you don’t need me anymore!’. Ah those bittersweet words! I may not ‘need’ Helen anymore, and yet I so miss her still.

Into the Light

It is this body’s favourite hour to awake, half way between night and dawn. Even the birds are slow in their waking today, perhaps I am the only one who is here in these of hours of darkness, being summoned to this chair and this page.

I have had fun today and it is always unexpected and comes upon me with a surprising jolt. I had fun being me, amongst others who I have had difficulty with, in the past. I would say that traditionally I have been quietly observing the scene, sitting on the peripheral and not wishing to bring attention my way. The limelight was never my resting point; the shadows felt much more palatable to me. I had family members who embraced the stage and relished their time in the spotlight, full of drama and passion and a lot of times, anger. And I concluded it was safer to stay hidden, then the buggers couldn’t get me. I often felt I was in enemy territory and any minute a sentry would spy my presence and make a pop at me. So I learnt to crouch low and remain invisible.

These last few years, I have begun to uncoil and step out a little further into the light. I have become better at holding my own in conversations, and being at peace with my own identity. I had a conversation today with two different people, one online and one in person. And in both scenarios, I was truly being myself and owning my opinion without malice or harm to myself or others. I used to unravel when others said things that didn’t concur with me. And I would begin to question my own opinions, my own taste and my own autonomy. Those days are mostly gone, brushed away like a cobweb in the spring morning light. Hurrah! And how delightful it is to say to the other person, ‘well that is your way and this is mine’ and for me to feel that certainty that I now know what is right for me.

My Mum made a comment once that stayed with me for many years and I felt imprisoned by the words ‘Well that is because you have cheap taste!’. Honestly words can be weapons, spoken in a way that brings about an inward shrinking. And the bearer may have meant something different, and yet the 15 year old me took that to heart and I sadly lost my sense of knowingness of what I liked. And so the lost years became many years of unknowingness, or I would say years of ‘un-belonging’ that which was truly me. And it has only been in my wiser years that I have reclaimed that 15 year old and taken time to relearn that which she likes, that which she finds beautiful. And I have integrated that with the ‘me’ that is sitting here writing these words. I can say ‘this is me now’ and this me will likely change her mind as I continue to sift and sort this ‘home’ of mine. And I am allowing this, no longer fixed in one viewpoint. I’m curious to dwell in that little sunlight and determine for myself what is my taste. Someone said to me ‘why bother?’ and I felt a pang of sadness for the limiting beliefs this provides. ‘Bothering’ has been the thing that has bought me back to myself and I will ‘bother’ till my last breath on this earth. It is me and that is enough.

In Celebration of Princess Diana

As the country celebrates a coronation this weekend, I am reminded of a lost Princess/Queen that I will celebrate instead. I remember Diana from those shy young days when she wore that blue dress and that short hairstyle and became the people’s darling. A beautiful beacon of light, of hope for the fairy tale that never was, and for a little girl called Susie who loved Diana.

I remember the street party we had when the ‘happy’ couple got married and the dancing we did and the cakes we ate. I remember the drunken songs around a piano and the jelly and ice cream that proclaimed (at least for this little girl) their marriage as a magical moment in the history of my small world.

I remember years later, on a rainy September day, being in the crowds seeing Diana on a walkabout in a bright red coat dress. And then me having a similar dress which my sister had in for testing in the lab, with the dodgy buttons that kept coming off.

I remember me building a scrap book of Diana memorabilia and the Diana books I bought that inspired my love of clothes, shoes and ooh the handbags and the hats! My, Diana had some amazing hats and handbags! I rejoiced when two princes’ were born and when Diana rode America by storm, in the arms of John Travolta. Diana was my constant star, always present and always shining out of the TV or on the cover of a magazine or adorning a newspaper front cover.

And then that fateful day in late August 1997. I can remember hearing the words on the radio as I rose from my slumber, and the disbelief and sorrow that hit me. ‘She is dead!’ cried the newsreader, and I sobbed in shock and sadness at the unbelievable news of her passing. ‘She is gone’ was such an alien concept to me. I had grown up with Diana since I was a child of 9. I had watched her get engaged, become a wife, a mother and a national treasure. And now she was gone. I put flowers on our local Guildhall and I sent prayers for her two precious boys. And I watched a nation unravel from its stiff emotional covers to a quivering, vulnerable, sobbing crowd of people beyond solace. With the passing of this beautiful angel of light, the Queen of many hearts, including mine.

And I will remember Diana this weekend and the joy she brought to my life. With her giggles and her laughter. With her willingness to be ‘one of the girls’, and who shared her kindness and compassion, with us the people. And I celebrate that she was here, even for such a short time, and the effect she had on me and my life.

Diana demonstrated to me, courage and kindness, softness, vulnerability and strength. She had begun to stretch her wings, much like I am beginning to do. And she was willing to change her life so that she could find the happiness that I believe she deserved. And to me she represents a one of a kind ‘Grand Dame’, and she will forever be my Queen and I shall celebrate her this weekend and the legacy that she gave me. A passion for life, of people and of change. Diana, I love you and will love you for always and that is what I shall hold in my heart this weekend.

Diana, Queen of my heart – always and forever. xx

Messy Cycles

It is the hours between darkness and light and I can hear the birds beginning their dawn chorus, even though it is still dark. I have woken and the mind was not quiet and so I have arisen and I’m sitting here at the page. My Bestie and I were talking about my constant cycle of mess in my house and the ‘forever-ness’ of clearing up, tidying up and then the mess forming again. I seem to repeat this cycle over and over and it is difficult to break it. The ‘mess’ became my ‘heavenly mess’ for a time and I would rail and frustrate, and lament and still the cycle repeated. I bought books on the subject, and have watched Youtube videos, and naught has successfully helped me to evolve beyond the mess. I have concluded I need to go deeper than the mess itself and explore the me that gets here so often, destination mess central.

I feel that perhaps there is a part of me that hides behind the mess, much like I did as child when I hid behind my mother’s skirts. I have the echo of a memory of that, shyly looking round a corner or hiding behind a cupboard door. To show up for myself has been, and still is, a challenge. If I take myself seriously, if I ‘bother’ then I have to take a central role in my life, and there’s a fear of getting it wrong. So if I live in a mess, then I don’t have to show up. I can just lament about the me that causes this and I don’t have to look any further.

The ‘wrongness’ of me has weighted heavily over the years and it is only now in these ‘wise’ years that I am beginning to appreciate the ‘rightness’ of me, at last. And so I am beginning again with the mess. This time I’m hoping I can really dig deep and experience this pattern from a different vantage point. I know that when I take the time to really listen to myself, I do make changes that work. And I know that to be bothered to explore what’s going on behind the mess, is worth my consideration. So I shall look at my messy rooms with fresh eyes and see what treasures I can find, both through the physical process of sifting and sorting. And the emotional process of where I am hiding myself here. And I will challenge myself, in a loving way, to start showing up in my life, here in this house that I call my home. I am coming home to myself, at last!

‘Alesha’

I had a dream the other night, one of those vivid ones that’s essence has stayed with me today. In the dream, I was centre stage in a play and I was everything. I could sing, I could dance and I felt free. I had applause and attention and a feeling of specialness and dazzlingness that made me feel wonderful. And at the end of the play, a wise woman appeared and we chatted. Her name was Alesha Florrick and she’s a character from a TV show I used to watch. The show was ‘The Good Wife’, and ah! I loved that show and how I loved Alesha! With her killer heels, and her hot to trot dress,with her great lines and her hot shot lawyer ways. She was the housewife transformed, having a second career in her 40’s and she was having a blast. I love the strength of her character and her vulnerability. I loved her messy life, and her even messier marriage. She was the warrior woman that I was yearning to be, and I loved seeing her change roles, from mother, wife, homecarer and super clever lawyer who got the job done. I still love that character and I love everything about the undoingness of her past that made her a strong badass woman.

I think about the symbols of femininity that I have identified with over the years. The ‘Cinderella’ from my youth, yearning for the prince to come and take me away and shower me with flowers and heady love poems. Then I was ‘Maid Marion’ from the 80’s show Robin of Sherwood, and Michael Praed and then Jason Connery became my heros, who would swing into my bedroom with their bow and arrow. And whisk me off to the forest where we would live happily ever after. Oh my! I have just remembered the full size picture of ‘Robin’ on my bedroom ceiling and me writing Robin of Sherwood all over my school books, in my best calligraphy writing. And when Robin died, I watched the arrow flames falling into the river, with tears rolling down my cheeks.

I am a romantic! There I have said it. And yet my feminine role models have changed shaped over the years. Alesha is the ‘Warrior Woman’ and I love her. I can identify with the strength she has, and yet she still oozes femininity and beauty and just all round sensuality. I love that I can be strong and vulnerable, sensual and sensitive. And I embrace all those qualities in me now. I love lace and flowers and everything girly, and I am also a Warrior Woman, all at the same time!

My Beloved

I have made my first ‘moon’ catcher. She twirls at the window and I laugh as I watch the breeze catch her as someone walks past the stairs. She is my laughter, my joy, my creative endeavour. Perhaps naff, perhaps a beginning, and maybe an ending if I decide to take her down. She represents me and my femininity, with her pretty pink bows and her lace. She is me in a creative explosion of frivolity, and tonight I have rejoiced. I watched her twirl and I wondered whether she was good enough to sit there in the window and then I decided she could stay there and I would decide in time whether I would change her. As I write these words I am reaching for the symbolism here, the me that feels good enough to be sitting here at this desk. The me that writes, is the me that has evolved from a young woman, to the wise warrior that I am now. And throughout that time I have grown, I have also grown a relationship with a beautiful man. A man who said to me on our wedding day ‘you look delicious’ as I walked up the wedding aisle.

My beloved and I are celebrating 26 years of a wonderful love filled marriage . And we have grown together over these years, and have weathered much, together. He has such faith in me and I have such faith in him. We shore each other up when one of us is uncertain and give wise words to each other when needed. We can be honest with each other, even if sometimes the other doesn’t want to hear it. I have a particular memory of being told to ‘calm down’ which added fire to a raging cauldron of emotions and I am sure that on occasion I have used the eff word at him in my frustration to get my point across. My beloved holds me in those moments, with his silence and offers me solace when I have calmed and I have done the same for him. My beloved is honest and kind, and I love him for it. He has always told me straight, even when I didn’t want to hear it. I cry soppy tears when he tells me that when he strokes my arm, he is saying ‘I love you’ a thousand times. He is ‘Mr Independent’ and will never do anything unless he wants to.

I wanted to tell him how much our relationship has meant to me. That I have grown so much because of us. That I have learnt to love so deep, because of us and I have grown confident and happy because of us. We have grown up together, from youngsters in our twenties, to adults in our fifties. We have played together, and loved together and mourned together. We made a baby and moulded a young adult, and we have created a beautiful, lasting relationship together. I have become so much more because of this beautiful man. He makes me laugh when he tells me stories about his endeavours to meet girls in his youth. And I make him laugh when I tell him about the hairstyles my Mother used to inflict on me. We have endured the ‘hell years’ together and survived. This man has been my safe harbour and sometimes, if I’m honest, the place I have wanted to escape from. And yet we have never given up on each other and never walked away.

A marriage of many years, many memories, and many joys. I’m so glad I met my beloved on that winter’s night and I’m glad I married him on a bright and sunny spring day. My life has been enriched by his presence and it is hard to put into words what these years have meant to me.

On valentines day he gave me a ‘lucky dip’ box full of all the things that I love and one birthday he took me to venice ‘just for the day’. And this anniversary he took our two childhood teddies on a photshoot in our favourtie coffee house, and the teddies adorned the front of my anniversary card. Ah how romantic is my beloved, and how much I love him for these special moments.

The best days are the ordinary, and yet fabulous ones, when we sit in our coffeehouse and I ask the existential questions that make him quiver. I asked him ‘what does joy look like to you’. He tells me afterwards that his mind goes into free fall and he can’t think of an answer, much like a rabbit in headlights. And then he takes a breath and begins to unpack my question. He is honest when he says ‘darling you’ve talked a lot and I’m feeling overwhelmed’. And yep this is the recipe of us, I talk and he listens, and eventually I will get a reply!

I remember the care and support he gave me when my mother was dying and the care he gave our son when I fell apart. And the care and love I gave him when he laid ill in hospital for six weeks. I remember a hospital porter saying as he wheeled my beloved to his bed, ‘you guys are the real deal, I can just see the love you have for each other’ and that is our truth. The song we had playing at our wedding was ‘cherish’ by Kool and the Gang. The words are so meaningful even now. I cherish you my darling, I cherish our life and cherish the love we are continuing to create together. Much like my moon catcher, a work in progress that I love very much.