Have you ever had a relationship which hasn't taken the shape you wanted? Have you ever had expectations for a relationship only to find no matter what your ideals they aren't being fulfilled?
I find myself in this exact situation and I wonder at what point I am just going to accept it for what it is and stop trying to shape it into something it isn't, and I dare say won't ever be, and save myself the heartache and disappointment.
This person and I have been in each other's lives for nearly twenty years, they have known me since I was a babe in the arms of mother and I am apart of their family, yet... We have no emotional connection and there is little affection between us.
We don't argue or fight but to not exchange hostile words doesn't mean we get on. Or have a relationship. To say we don't or haven't exchanged 'hostile words' is being liberal with the truth, there have been numerous occasions in which this person has flung barbed comments in my direction both one-on-one and in a public environment. I don't respond for varying reasons; my mumma didn't raise me to be spiteful or vindictive and the escalation of negativity would only cause heartache to many.
It makes me very disappointed that we don't share a bond, that we don't do the kind of things together I assumed, however wrongly because to assume is to make an Ass out of yoU and ME, that we would in our special relationship. It confuses me that I not only don't understand this person's cold demeanour and random acts of spitefulness, I also don't understand why after so many years of our relationship not meeting my expectations I still continue to hope it will.
If I'm thoughtful about the whole situation I find it is me that is at fault, it is me who is and has been trying to impose my 'idea' of how things ought to be on us. The reality is I should stop tormenting myself with what isn't and can never be and respect what we have. I ought to accept it is what it is. And move on.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Thursday, 13 October 2016
Wednesday, 22 June 2016
You can't take it with you
I finished my last supply booking nearly two weeks ago and haven't worked since. There's nothing out there the agency said and I can see that. Most schools will have already been hit by Ofsted for an inspection, so supply teachers aren't a necessary cost.
Needless to say I've panicked about money since. Being of the independent disposition I'm used to earning my own money and contributing toward taking care of household bills, I'm still doing that but the money I've put aside for when I'm not working is dwindling. I'd planned on being out of work for 6 weeks not 12.
When my sister L's birthday came I deliberated over what to get her, she's ...particular. In the end I bought her a book of postcards to colour herself, a YSL nail varnish that I knew she'd adore and put some money in a card for her.
I put more in that I usually would because I reasoned...it's just money and what am I working for if not to treat my loved ones?
Besides, you can't take it with you.
Needless to say I've panicked about money since. Being of the independent disposition I'm used to earning my own money and contributing toward taking care of household bills, I'm still doing that but the money I've put aside for when I'm not working is dwindling. I'd planned on being out of work for 6 weeks not 12.
When my sister L's birthday came I deliberated over what to get her, she's ...particular. In the end I bought her a book of postcards to colour herself, a YSL nail varnish that I knew she'd adore and put some money in a card for her.
I put more in that I usually would because I reasoned...it's just money and what am I working for if not to treat my loved ones?
Besides, you can't take it with you.
Monday, 5 October 2015
Love and Dragons
The other day I happen to be in the vicinity of a friend discussing her daughter-in-law issues, I listened without offering an opinion because it wasn't my place to, but after...I started thinking about my own mother-in-law issues. I began to wonder if grandchildren were involved if we'd be so amicable or would she also fear I'd withhold them because we disagreed?
For the most part I've just accepted it's a mother-in-law perogative to be pushy and domineering especially when it comes to their sons. Why? Well because it's about control, jealousy and things so deeply primal and innate I'll be damned if I'm intelligent enough to figure them out and impose order because I'm not a mother.
Generally speaking I get on pretty well with my mother-in-law J, she's an independent hard working woman who has really come into her own over the last ten years. The change in her confidence and self-esteem is wonderful to see, and I'm proud of her accomplishments. As mother-in-laws go she's a good one; kind, caring, considerate and generous...
..I know you can hear the but coming...BUT there are times her taking over, smothering and general narcissism have me rolling my eyes and leaving the room before my inner monologue becomes a soliloquy. I have very little time or patience for those who show off, celebrate your success and discuss the compliments you have been paid but bragging and boasting is just plain abnormal egotism. It's also inexorably insipid and tedious. In addition to liking to sing her own praises, when we visit she takes over and I take a back seat. I do this because L's parents live 8,000 miles away and those 2-3 weeks once or twice a year are the only time he gets to spend with them. Geography aside, I won't put him in the position where he is stuck between a rock and a hard place: us! You've got to pick your battles and to date we've not clashed over anything. I might once have aired my opinion on her husband's selfish response and total absence of concern when L was in a car crash which totalled his car, and I might not have minced my words or left any ambiguity to how much I applauded her love in staying with a man so undeniably petty and callous. I might have done that. Once.
I wonder what her issues with me are: no grandchildren? Too opinionated? Too indecisive? Too hotheaded? Too moody? Too demanding? Too aloof? Too dismissive? I know she feels I 'seduced her son' because she's told a table full people - twice. Well, aren't I the veritable tramp?
Either which way, derisive humour and comments aside, I know I'm lucky with J if the worst of our relationship issues is the minor complaint that she has a tendency to brag too much and take over. It could be far worse and I am thankful for that. I miss her when we're here and no one makes Christmas special in the way that she does, and above all I am reverently aware without her I wouldn't have L and for him I'd put up with her being a complete overbearing dragon.
For the most part I've just accepted it's a mother-in-law perogative to be pushy and domineering especially when it comes to their sons. Why? Well because it's about control, jealousy and things so deeply primal and innate I'll be damned if I'm intelligent enough to figure them out and impose order because I'm not a mother.
Generally speaking I get on pretty well with my mother-in-law J, she's an independent hard working woman who has really come into her own over the last ten years. The change in her confidence and self-esteem is wonderful to see, and I'm proud of her accomplishments. As mother-in-laws go she's a good one; kind, caring, considerate and generous...
..I know you can hear the but coming...BUT there are times her taking over, smothering and general narcissism have me rolling my eyes and leaving the room before my inner monologue becomes a soliloquy. I have very little time or patience for those who show off, celebrate your success and discuss the compliments you have been paid but bragging and boasting is just plain abnormal egotism. It's also inexorably insipid and tedious. In addition to liking to sing her own praises, when we visit she takes over and I take a back seat. I do this because L's parents live 8,000 miles away and those 2-3 weeks once or twice a year are the only time he gets to spend with them. Geography aside, I won't put him in the position where he is stuck between a rock and a hard place: us! You've got to pick your battles and to date we've not clashed over anything. I might once have aired my opinion on her husband's selfish response and total absence of concern when L was in a car crash which totalled his car, and I might not have minced my words or left any ambiguity to how much I applauded her love in staying with a man so undeniably petty and callous. I might have done that. Once.
I wonder what her issues with me are: no grandchildren? Too opinionated? Too indecisive? Too hotheaded? Too moody? Too demanding? Too aloof? Too dismissive? I know she feels I 'seduced her son' because she's told a table full people - twice. Well, aren't I the veritable tramp?
Either which way, derisive humour and comments aside, I know I'm lucky with J if the worst of our relationship issues is the minor complaint that she has a tendency to brag too much and take over. It could be far worse and I am thankful for that. I miss her when we're here and no one makes Christmas special in the way that she does, and above all I am reverently aware without her I wouldn't have L and for him I'd put up with her being a complete overbearing dragon.
Friday, 29 May 2015
Closer to Home Truths
With seven weeks to go as an NQT and working with the very special children I do I'm starting to wrap things up emotionally, assigning my own closure.
You've heard me talk once or twice about my father, I don't like to talk about him very often not only because it's a raw subject but also because I know it's one subject and matter I'm never going to get closure on. Not in any way that I can accept at any rate.
With Father's Day and my father-in-law's birthday coming up I found myself looking around me at the 'Father' model I had before me, sadly it was extremely negative. My own experiences with what a father is and does is jaded and skewed at best, dysfunctional and damaged at worst. When I look at the father figure the children I teach have...well, it almost makes me thankful for the one I had.
I sent my father-in-law a 'dad' birthday card with a flippant message inside about not having a dad of my own so I was adopting him, I even joked I was mostly house trained now and had a job so I earn my own pocket money, implying I shouldn't be too much of a burden. Is that what I think a dad is like? - someone who moans at you for your mess and how much money you ask for? The truth is I don't know. I don't know what it's like to have a dad or a father-daughter relationship.
What I have are vague memories of a scary grumpy man with no patience, who once or twice came to get me from school and might have brought my bike for me to ride or an ice cream to eat. The other memories I have are of the things he did post separation.
The thing is as much as I lament not knowing or experiencing so many things (dad taxi, bank of dad - apparently, in my mind - dad meeting boyfriends, dad pushing me on a swing or singing Frozen like the dad in the house at back of ours) I had a really strong mumma. I had a mumma that was my nurse, my confidant, my hairdresser, my judge and jury, my North Star, my moral compass, my father and my mumma.
Can't ask for more than that.
You've heard me talk once or twice about my father, I don't like to talk about him very often not only because it's a raw subject but also because I know it's one subject and matter I'm never going to get closure on. Not in any way that I can accept at any rate.
With Father's Day and my father-in-law's birthday coming up I found myself looking around me at the 'Father' model I had before me, sadly it was extremely negative. My own experiences with what a father is and does is jaded and skewed at best, dysfunctional and damaged at worst. When I look at the father figure the children I teach have...well, it almost makes me thankful for the one I had.
I sent my father-in-law a 'dad' birthday card with a flippant message inside about not having a dad of my own so I was adopting him, I even joked I was mostly house trained now and had a job so I earn my own pocket money, implying I shouldn't be too much of a burden. Is that what I think a dad is like? - someone who moans at you for your mess and how much money you ask for? The truth is I don't know. I don't know what it's like to have a dad or a father-daughter relationship.
What I have are vague memories of a scary grumpy man with no patience, who once or twice came to get me from school and might have brought my bike for me to ride or an ice cream to eat. The other memories I have are of the things he did post separation.
The thing is as much as I lament not knowing or experiencing so many things (dad taxi, bank of dad - apparently, in my mind - dad meeting boyfriends, dad pushing me on a swing or singing Frozen like the dad in the house at back of ours) I had a really strong mumma. I had a mumma that was my nurse, my confidant, my hairdresser, my judge and jury, my North Star, my moral compass, my father and my mumma.
Can't ask for more than that.
Thursday, 24 April 2014
Work vs Life
Some time ago I read an article that angered me greatly, it questioned whether a teacher in the current climate of education can ever hope to have a work-life balance. An undeniable hot topic. An unresolved one.
A work-life balance is hard to achieve in any business sector or job. For a start, everyone's understanding and concept of what a work-life balance differs.
No one argues with the notion that we all have a right to a life and to some relaxation time, but actually having those things....is another thing entirely. If you listen to the news or read the papers a picture of there being a dark cloud of doom hanging over the economy and working world is painted in infinite detail. Competition for jobs has increased, companies can afford to be more selective, the pressure in a job is increased as every company or establishment demands the very best from their employees and if you fail to give it...well step aside because there are plenty to fill your shoes. Rightly so when it comes to doing the job to the best of your ability, but I ask at what cost to the individual and eventually that sector?
As a person who has never been work shy and has regularly worked a 60+ hour week in my working career, I find myself stuck between a rock and a hard place when trying to navigate the conundrum of guilt versus a work-life balance.
Personally, I'm a perfectionist and I have high expectations for myself, which means I have a tendency to drive myself to stressed exhaustion. This doesn't bode well for my current career as a teacher. Yet, I've started to do a u-turn on many habits and previous beliefs, it's just a shame it took L rolling the car in a accident and his ruptured appendix for me to do that.
This time last year I was shoulder deep in my second placement on a PGCE course, training to be a primary school teacher. Understandably a PGCE is tough - the government, head teachers, parents and children want the very best you've got to give and I've started to view that period of my life as being equivalent of a 9 month obstacle course. When the afore mentioned things happened - L rolling the car and his appendix rupturing - I initially made the decision that the course and my placement came first...and have never quite forgiven myself for that. I swiftly realised I wasn't coping with the demands of physically looking after L, the masters level course work due and the general workload of the course and looking after a home, so I went to see the powers that be in university. Suffice to say I was stunned and distressed by the lack of support I received, especially as it was from a person I had somewhat put on a pedestal. That's a demon for another day.
It was precisely that moment that I asked myself 'Is anything or anyone worth more to me or more important than L and my own health?' The answer was an emphatic 'no'. Since that moment I've been struggling to define what a work-life balance means for me. I no longer think it's acceptable to spend hours at a laptop planning lessons, or bent backed over exercise books marking and responding to work while L waits patiently to spend time with me. I no longer think it's acceptable to use my own money to purchase resources or things to use in the classroom and most importantly to put anyone above and beyond L and myself. To be frank, I don't think it's acceptable to be consumed by a job even if it is a calling. Perhaps then I shouldn't be a teacher but I ask this, were I an accountant in a finance department I wouldn't be expected to bring my own calculator to the job, or pens, or any equipment in general in order to do my job. Should I be made to feel less or unsuitable for a job because I am not willing to put myself under unrealistic and unsustainable pressure to do it? Should I be ostracised or judged negatively because I think my health is far more important than marking books? Should I be made to fee guilty for putting my home life before my work life?
The answer to all those is 'no' and I resent anyone who thinks it is acceptable to make an individual feel guilty for giving any other answer. With this attitude in place I'm fearful of what a career as a teacher is going to be like for me. Perhaps my opinion is slightly skewed on this but the prevailing and very much dominant ideology present during the PGCE course was if you weren't prepared to sweat and bleed planning and teaching you weren't a teacher and you weren't suitable, taking care of a home and those you shared it with came down to 'just dust that will still be there at the end of the course' and loved ones 'will be understanding that you aren't spending time with them, that you are tired and snappy and swear and will often be tearful'.
The fact remains as I do embark on a teaching career I am not certain it is for me, I don't think any job and anyone is more important or more deserving of my time and attention than loved ones and my own health. I don't believe that it is healthy to be consumed by a need to spend every ounce of my energy and spend the majority of the hours in my day on my job. Perhaps it has gone unnoticed by many but without a good stable home life with support, a place that is your sanctuary to retreat to when your head has become a tangled ball of things left undone, there can be no happy work place or ethos. When we go out to work to earn a living, what are we working for? What do we do it for? Who are we doing it for! If it's money to buy things like holidays or gifts for people they are our motivation, we are working for them, our loved ones. If it is to make a difference in children's lives what use to them are we if we're exhausted, fuzzy headed, stressed and emotional?
So, to answer the question can a teacher ever have a work-life balance?....I'm inclined to say not if the prevailing message being conveyed during your training is one that tells you teaching comes first and family/personal life second. Until universities and schools tell students and teachers alike 'Your health NEEDS family and relaxation time and you SHOULDN'T be made to feel guilty about having it' there can be no balance. I could go into a lengthy diatribe about university lecturers using positive modelling (you know, like they told us trainees to use with our class) or I could mention Ofsted and Michael Gove's penchant for only providing negative feedback despite research stating this causes students (of any age) to shut down and disengage. But I don't have the time because I took the time to blog and now I've got to claw back the hour or so I spent doing that because I feel guilty it wasn't time spent planning lessons and I'm obviously not working hard enough if I've time to blog.
A work-life balance is hard to achieve in any business sector or job. For a start, everyone's understanding and concept of what a work-life balance differs.
No one argues with the notion that we all have a right to a life and to some relaxation time, but actually having those things....is another thing entirely. If you listen to the news or read the papers a picture of there being a dark cloud of doom hanging over the economy and working world is painted in infinite detail. Competition for jobs has increased, companies can afford to be more selective, the pressure in a job is increased as every company or establishment demands the very best from their employees and if you fail to give it...well step aside because there are plenty to fill your shoes. Rightly so when it comes to doing the job to the best of your ability, but I ask at what cost to the individual and eventually that sector?
As a person who has never been work shy and has regularly worked a 60+ hour week in my working career, I find myself stuck between a rock and a hard place when trying to navigate the conundrum of guilt versus a work-life balance.
Personally, I'm a perfectionist and I have high expectations for myself, which means I have a tendency to drive myself to stressed exhaustion. This doesn't bode well for my current career as a teacher. Yet, I've started to do a u-turn on many habits and previous beliefs, it's just a shame it took L rolling the car in a accident and his ruptured appendix for me to do that.
This time last year I was shoulder deep in my second placement on a PGCE course, training to be a primary school teacher. Understandably a PGCE is tough - the government, head teachers, parents and children want the very best you've got to give and I've started to view that period of my life as being equivalent of a 9 month obstacle course. When the afore mentioned things happened - L rolling the car and his appendix rupturing - I initially made the decision that the course and my placement came first...and have never quite forgiven myself for that. I swiftly realised I wasn't coping with the demands of physically looking after L, the masters level course work due and the general workload of the course and looking after a home, so I went to see the powers that be in university. Suffice to say I was stunned and distressed by the lack of support I received, especially as it was from a person I had somewhat put on a pedestal. That's a demon for another day.
It was precisely that moment that I asked myself 'Is anything or anyone worth more to me or more important than L and my own health?' The answer was an emphatic 'no'. Since that moment I've been struggling to define what a work-life balance means for me. I no longer think it's acceptable to spend hours at a laptop planning lessons, or bent backed over exercise books marking and responding to work while L waits patiently to spend time with me. I no longer think it's acceptable to use my own money to purchase resources or things to use in the classroom and most importantly to put anyone above and beyond L and myself. To be frank, I don't think it's acceptable to be consumed by a job even if it is a calling. Perhaps then I shouldn't be a teacher but I ask this, were I an accountant in a finance department I wouldn't be expected to bring my own calculator to the job, or pens, or any equipment in general in order to do my job. Should I be made to feel less or unsuitable for a job because I am not willing to put myself under unrealistic and unsustainable pressure to do it? Should I be ostracised or judged negatively because I think my health is far more important than marking books? Should I be made to fee guilty for putting my home life before my work life?
The answer to all those is 'no' and I resent anyone who thinks it is acceptable to make an individual feel guilty for giving any other answer. With this attitude in place I'm fearful of what a career as a teacher is going to be like for me. Perhaps my opinion is slightly skewed on this but the prevailing and very much dominant ideology present during the PGCE course was if you weren't prepared to sweat and bleed planning and teaching you weren't a teacher and you weren't suitable, taking care of a home and those you shared it with came down to 'just dust that will still be there at the end of the course' and loved ones 'will be understanding that you aren't spending time with them, that you are tired and snappy and swear and will often be tearful'.
The fact remains as I do embark on a teaching career I am not certain it is for me, I don't think any job and anyone is more important or more deserving of my time and attention than loved ones and my own health. I don't believe that it is healthy to be consumed by a need to spend every ounce of my energy and spend the majority of the hours in my day on my job. Perhaps it has gone unnoticed by many but without a good stable home life with support, a place that is your sanctuary to retreat to when your head has become a tangled ball of things left undone, there can be no happy work place or ethos. When we go out to work to earn a living, what are we working for? What do we do it for? Who are we doing it for! If it's money to buy things like holidays or gifts for people they are our motivation, we are working for them, our loved ones. If it is to make a difference in children's lives what use to them are we if we're exhausted, fuzzy headed, stressed and emotional?
So, to answer the question can a teacher ever have a work-life balance?....I'm inclined to say not if the prevailing message being conveyed during your training is one that tells you teaching comes first and family/personal life second. Until universities and schools tell students and teachers alike 'Your health NEEDS family and relaxation time and you SHOULDN'T be made to feel guilty about having it' there can be no balance. I could go into a lengthy diatribe about university lecturers using positive modelling (you know, like they told us trainees to use with our class) or I could mention Ofsted and Michael Gove's penchant for only providing negative feedback despite research stating this causes students (of any age) to shut down and disengage. But I don't have the time because I took the time to blog and now I've got to claw back the hour or so I spent doing that because I feel guilty it wasn't time spent planning lessons and I'm obviously not working hard enough if I've time to blog.
Thursday, 26 September 2013
Some things you wish were genetic
My mamma is one talented and gifted woman. She might not have the education of most women but there's no denying when it comes to creative talent she's at the top of the class!
Creative wise I'm average: possess a good eye for colour, have strong ideas, can make up stories very easily (ask me about the canary in the pelican doing reconnaissant work for taking over Torrance's water supply) and I can manage the basics in sewing. I can't draw or paint at all, in fact I'm still at the stick people level. My doodles are okay, nothing impressive though.
My mamma...she's a different story. She made this:
.JPG)
It's fully lined, handmade and a one off. This is a man's Christmas stocking and she makes a more feminine one for women too. I think they and she are amazing. This one is for a friend, who has asked for their child's name to be embroidered on it. My friend liked it so much she's ordered another for her daughter and possibly some bunting after Christmas.
I wish I had half my mum's talent and patience when it comes to things like this. I wish we lived closer so that I could watch her and soak in the know-how to make things like these.
I hope her creative talent is genetic.
Creative wise I'm average: possess a good eye for colour, have strong ideas, can make up stories very easily (ask me about the canary in the pelican doing reconnaissant work for taking over Torrance's water supply) and I can manage the basics in sewing. I can't draw or paint at all, in fact I'm still at the stick people level. My doodles are okay, nothing impressive though.
My mamma...she's a different story. She made this:
.JPG)
It's fully lined, handmade and a one off. This is a man's Christmas stocking and she makes a more feminine one for women too. I think they and she are amazing. This one is for a friend, who has asked for their child's name to be embroidered on it. My friend liked it so much she's ordered another for her daughter and possibly some bunting after Christmas.
I wish I had half my mum's talent and patience when it comes to things like this. I wish we lived closer so that I could watch her and soak in the know-how to make things like these.
I hope her creative talent is genetic.
Saturday, 14 September 2013
Is it in the Genes???
Apparently I've been so busy trying not to and watching for the signs that I'm turning into my mother I missed the fact I'm turning into my nana! On my mother's side.
Since I am only 5ft it seems obvious to point out I suffer with a certain amount of aggression and small person syndrome, which might go some way to explain my interest in UFC. You're shocked, I can tell. I, as primary school teacher with a Masters in Modern and Contemporary English Literature hardly strike most as the type to watch and like that kind of thing.
The thing is...I love it! Last night L and I were watching UFC - The Ultimate Fighter with Meisha Tate and Ronda Rousey, I had started the show as a huge fan of Rousey but her rudeness and petulant insecure temper tantrums and postulating have made me start to despise her. It's immature and disgusting behaviour. But I digress. Last night I watched Rousey's Shayna take on Tate's Julianna and it was an amazing fight! Julianna as the underdog was written off from the start: younger, less experienced, lacking confidence....absolutely owned Shayna and I was over the moon. Aggressive arrogance is not only unattractive it screams for a humiliating ass kicking to put things back into perspective, like their ego.
As Julianna served Shayna a large helping of humble pie I was on the edge of my seat shouting 'Hit her! Just start pounding! Hit her in the face!'....which was entirely reminiscent of my nana shouting at the tv 'it him! it him!' in a heavy French accentuated accent as she watches a Bruno vs Tyson fight on the edge of her seat.
Like I said, I've been trying so hard to avoid turning into my mother....I missed the fact I've turned into nana...oh merde, to coin one of nana's phrases.
Since I am only 5ft it seems obvious to point out I suffer with a certain amount of aggression and small person syndrome, which might go some way to explain my interest in UFC. You're shocked, I can tell. I, as primary school teacher with a Masters in Modern and Contemporary English Literature hardly strike most as the type to watch and like that kind of thing.
The thing is...I love it! Last night L and I were watching UFC - The Ultimate Fighter with Meisha Tate and Ronda Rousey, I had started the show as a huge fan of Rousey but her rudeness and petulant insecure temper tantrums and postulating have made me start to despise her. It's immature and disgusting behaviour. But I digress. Last night I watched Rousey's Shayna take on Tate's Julianna and it was an amazing fight! Julianna as the underdog was written off from the start: younger, less experienced, lacking confidence....absolutely owned Shayna and I was over the moon. Aggressive arrogance is not only unattractive it screams for a humiliating ass kicking to put things back into perspective, like their ego.
As Julianna served Shayna a large helping of humble pie I was on the edge of my seat shouting 'Hit her! Just start pounding! Hit her in the face!'....which was entirely reminiscent of my nana shouting at the tv 'it him! it him!' in a heavy French accentuated accent as she watches a Bruno vs Tyson fight on the edge of her seat.
Like I said, I've been trying so hard to avoid turning into my mother....I missed the fact I've turned into nana...oh merde, to coin one of nana's phrases.
Saturday, 9 February 2013
Fabian
This is my nephew Fabian, who is nearly 2 months old and I haven't met him yet.
Isn't he gorgeous?...
I feel awful that I haven't met him yet and it feels terrible to admit it's because my life, every moment of it, has been swallowed up by training to be a teacher. I mean look at him...he's perfect!
He has my sister's nose and Steve's eyes.
*sigh* I can't wait to see and meet him.
Isn't he gorgeous?...
I feel awful that I haven't met him yet and it feels terrible to admit it's because my life, every moment of it, has been swallowed up by training to be a teacher. I mean look at him...he's perfect!
He has my sister's nose and Steve's eyes.
*sigh* I can't wait to see and meet him.
Sunday, 5 August 2012
Pause for Thought
So often in modern life we are caught up in the whirl wind of living: chores, work, money...we forget to just pause and exhale.
We forget that we ought to take time to stop, to look around us and take in the scenery.
It is no secret I have been having a longstanding love-hate affair with cortisol, yet this morning having shared a nice peaceful and relaxed breakfast with family I realise I have SO much to be thankful for.
I am thankful for humour, no matter how dark or twisted or ironic or even inappropriate, because it also comes with laughter and laughter is nature's best medicine.
I am thankful for my friends and family, regardless of how often they - more so family than friends - drive me to point of insanity or have unrealistic expectations for me, they are MY friends and family.
I am thankful for moments like last night when L, mum and T all inadvertently got drunk on one beer - a 9.5% - and couldn't drive, so I had to. It was stressful because I am not the most confident of people, despite my overbearing personality at times, but it was hilarious to watch mum and T being away with the fairies in the back of the car.
We forget that we ought to take time to stop, to look around us and take in the scenery.
It is no secret I have been having a longstanding love-hate affair with cortisol, yet this morning having shared a nice peaceful and relaxed breakfast with family I realise I have SO much to be thankful for.
I am thankful for humour, no matter how dark or twisted or ironic or even inappropriate, because it also comes with laughter and laughter is nature's best medicine.
I am thankful for my friends and family, regardless of how often they - more so family than friends - drive me to point of insanity or have unrealistic expectations for me, they are MY friends and family.
I am thankful for moments like last night when L, mum and T all inadvertently got drunk on one beer - a 9.5% - and couldn't drive, so I had to. It was stressful because I am not the most confident of people, despite my overbearing personality at times, but it was hilarious to watch mum and T being away with the fairies in the back of the car.
Thursday, 19 April 2012
Nannas
Nannas are an odd breed of women, wonderfully forgiving, full of rich tales of your parents worst antics, wise, without shame and if anything like mine fantastically young at heart. They are even a bit on the strange side if you get to really thinking about them.
Take, for example, my nanna Charlotte Francis Debono, she was always a bit of a mystery to me not least for her heavy French accent, which at times, would be near impossible to decipher. I spent much of my early years either nodding in agreement or shaking my head in disapproval based solely on what I thought her facial expression and tone of voice were telling me. The end result is a very dizzy child who was none the wiser as to what her nanna was saying, but on the other hand developed a honed skill for reading people.
Nanna was also a bit of a free spirit, very young at heart and with a propensity for crazy ideas on how to entertain her many grandchildren (like many foreign families our mothers were young and us, their children plentiful). I almost blush with embarrassment at the memory that she thought nothing of taking us blackberry picking in a Victorian graveyard! We'd be there for hours filling our chubby faces with blackberries more than we filled the plastic bags we took with us. People who saw us would often stare in disbelief and I don't doubt if it weren't for there being a responsible adult with us, we would have received a stern telling off. I know what we looked like too, poor and plenty, foreign and uncivilised. Our clothes were always a mismatch of whomever's house we happened to be sleeping and eating out of. Our hair wasn't always brushed and we all wore a wildness about us that only the young and innocent can possess when they are totally unaware of how they are perceived. I'm sure during the six week holidays it was agreed among our mums who would have who and for how long. There must have been some kind of rotation going on so that each of them got a break - both mentally and financially - from us all.
On one such trip to Abney Park Cemetery nanna decided she would have a go on a bike. The bike in question was a red one, a Star bike and I used to look on it with envy. I wasn't quite big enough to ride it because my feet didn't touch the floor and I wasn't generally speaking encouraged to try - I was the accident prone one. What was unique about this bike was the fact you could fold it, it had a hinge system and a kind of nut and bolt. Obviously the view was to make it easier for storage in cupboards and sheds. Nanna took off on this glorious and much coveted bike with immense whooping and hilarity on our part, all of us thrilled to the point of our hair being electrified with charged excitement. After some time our fits of giggles and shrieks of mayhem died down to a bored unrest, it was surely time for nanna to be back from her adventures. She eventually did come back, swearing under her breath in French, her plaited hair half pulled out and her dress stained in places. The coveted Star bike had decided to fold up on her as she had been riding and thus upended her in a bush.
Nanna's many other ingenious ideas included using a pram to cart the household washing in black bags, with two or three of us perched on top, to the launderette she managed. She would give us baths or wash downs in the butler sink there, use the kettle to heat cans of baked beans for us and feed us all on two portions of fish and chips. Of course those were the days when such a thing was possible.
At night all the beds used to be pushed together in one room of her Victorian Terraced council house and nearly ten of us would all sleep together. The only light in the room would be the glow of her cigarette and the digital clock perched on the broken backless chair.
In two days time it will be the four year anniversary of my nanna's funeral and at times like this I miss her very much. I miss the safety I felt with her, the scent of cigarettes and softener on her clothes which always managed to feel exotic and homey at one and the same time.
Take, for example, my nanna Charlotte Francis Debono, she was always a bit of a mystery to me not least for her heavy French accent, which at times, would be near impossible to decipher. I spent much of my early years either nodding in agreement or shaking my head in disapproval based solely on what I thought her facial expression and tone of voice were telling me. The end result is a very dizzy child who was none the wiser as to what her nanna was saying, but on the other hand developed a honed skill for reading people.
Nanna was also a bit of a free spirit, very young at heart and with a propensity for crazy ideas on how to entertain her many grandchildren (like many foreign families our mothers were young and us, their children plentiful). I almost blush with embarrassment at the memory that she thought nothing of taking us blackberry picking in a Victorian graveyard! We'd be there for hours filling our chubby faces with blackberries more than we filled the plastic bags we took with us. People who saw us would often stare in disbelief and I don't doubt if it weren't for there being a responsible adult with us, we would have received a stern telling off. I know what we looked like too, poor and plenty, foreign and uncivilised. Our clothes were always a mismatch of whomever's house we happened to be sleeping and eating out of. Our hair wasn't always brushed and we all wore a wildness about us that only the young and innocent can possess when they are totally unaware of how they are perceived. I'm sure during the six week holidays it was agreed among our mums who would have who and for how long. There must have been some kind of rotation going on so that each of them got a break - both mentally and financially - from us all.
On one such trip to Abney Park Cemetery nanna decided she would have a go on a bike. The bike in question was a red one, a Star bike and I used to look on it with envy. I wasn't quite big enough to ride it because my feet didn't touch the floor and I wasn't generally speaking encouraged to try - I was the accident prone one. What was unique about this bike was the fact you could fold it, it had a hinge system and a kind of nut and bolt. Obviously the view was to make it easier for storage in cupboards and sheds. Nanna took off on this glorious and much coveted bike with immense whooping and hilarity on our part, all of us thrilled to the point of our hair being electrified with charged excitement. After some time our fits of giggles and shrieks of mayhem died down to a bored unrest, it was surely time for nanna to be back from her adventures. She eventually did come back, swearing under her breath in French, her plaited hair half pulled out and her dress stained in places. The coveted Star bike had decided to fold up on her as she had been riding and thus upended her in a bush.
Nanna's many other ingenious ideas included using a pram to cart the household washing in black bags, with two or three of us perched on top, to the launderette she managed. She would give us baths or wash downs in the butler sink there, use the kettle to heat cans of baked beans for us and feed us all on two portions of fish and chips. Of course those were the days when such a thing was possible.
At night all the beds used to be pushed together in one room of her Victorian Terraced council house and nearly ten of us would all sleep together. The only light in the room would be the glow of her cigarette and the digital clock perched on the broken backless chair.
In two days time it will be the four year anniversary of my nanna's funeral and at times like this I miss her very much. I miss the safety I felt with her, the scent of cigarettes and softener on her clothes which always managed to feel exotic and homey at one and the same time.
Saturday, 14 April 2012
The Half Pint, The Tempest, The Pudding...and Me!
I'm back from five days away in Cornwall with K, half-pint, tempest and pudding and I had a fabulous time.
It was great to immerse myself in someone else's family and to be made to feel like family, especially as L is away and so therefore always on my mind.
It's no secret I have very little experience with children but I must say my little tempest has, from day one, been nothing but herself with me. She has shown me all her colours, the colour of her love, her temper, her tears, her laughter and her personality. She has also covered me in pee and poop more times than I can list! What can I say?....she's a generous child.
If I was slightly unnerved by tempest unlocking the bathroom door from the outside (clever little minx) whilst I was in the shower to have a pee and then taking a seat on her foot stool to have a chat...she certainly wasn't.
If I was surprised at how often she or half pint of pudding would let themselves in on me getting dressed...I was the only one.
If I was stunned at how much they all ate...I was alone in this.
I wasn't surprised at how K and I took off from where we left off and it was almost like we still lived around the corner from each other.
It was great to immerse myself in someone else's family and to be made to feel like family, especially as L is away and so therefore always on my mind.
It's no secret I have very little experience with children but I must say my little tempest has, from day one, been nothing but herself with me. She has shown me all her colours, the colour of her love, her temper, her tears, her laughter and her personality. She has also covered me in pee and poop more times than I can list! What can I say?....she's a generous child.
If I was slightly unnerved by tempest unlocking the bathroom door from the outside (clever little minx) whilst I was in the shower to have a pee and then taking a seat on her foot stool to have a chat...she certainly wasn't.
If I was surprised at how often she or half pint of pudding would let themselves in on me getting dressed...I was the only one.
If I was stunned at how much they all ate...I was alone in this.
I wasn't surprised at how K and I took off from where we left off and it was almost like we still lived around the corner from each other.
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Lessons Learnt
I'm back from a few days away...and I learnt ALOT about myself while I was away.
I learnt that family is important to me.
Things have never been the same between me and my family since L and I got married. I didn't have to learn that because I've never stopped knowing it. BUT I did learn that I miss what we had before and I feel like I have no sense of family now. I want to to fix things but at the moment it feels impossible because it still hurts and for the time being I am unable to look at them without seeing the hurt and feeling it too. I just have to trust that given time things will get better and it won't always be like this. And I do.
I learnt that I am not good with emotion.
When I feel like things are becoming too intense or that I am expected to talk openly and honestly about feelings ... I want and need to run away. I am not good with other people's emotions either and I build defences to protect myself against them.
I learnt that I am fed up with L being away so much.
I've confessed this to people often but I didn't feel it like I felt it when surrounded by K and her family; her girls C and H and my little pudding M and her husband J. I felt like an outsider, a spare part and someone to be pitied especially when they - K and her parents - gave me a anniversary card on mine and L's wedding anniversary yesterday. My sisters don't give us a card but K and her family did, which is neither here nor there. It made me angry with L for putting me in that situation, even though its not really his fault and I made my own choice.
I learnt that I do not like being relied upon.
I want to run away when I'm faced with other people needing me. When I look in their eyes and see their raw need, the expectation and the desire to be reassured that I am always going to be there for them...I want to run away. I want to tell them that their faith and need is misplaced if they're counting on me. I want to tell them that they shouldn't count on me because I'm selfish and unreliable and although I have the best intentions I am flighty and I am drifter and so therefore shouldn't and can't be relied upon for anything.
I learnt that I can be a patient person.
I have all the patience in the world for K's children and they never cease to be an amazement for me - when I am with them they make me want to have children and that is an amazement! BUT that desire doesn't last long! It is enough for me to know that should I so choose to become a mother...I have it in me to be a good one.
Most importantly, I can and do trust that I have the patience to wait to heal fully. When the time is right and I am ready...things will stop hurting and I will stop doubting.
I learnt that I am duplicitous.
I am not good at allowing people to get close to me or permitting them to see my vulnerability, so I always pretend everything is okay and I am okay. I will, no matter what, pretend to be stronger than I am and therefore someone other than I am.
I learnt that family is important to me.
Things have never been the same between me and my family since L and I got married. I didn't have to learn that because I've never stopped knowing it. BUT I did learn that I miss what we had before and I feel like I have no sense of family now. I want to to fix things but at the moment it feels impossible because it still hurts and for the time being I am unable to look at them without seeing the hurt and feeling it too. I just have to trust that given time things will get better and it won't always be like this. And I do.
I learnt that I am not good with emotion.
When I feel like things are becoming too intense or that I am expected to talk openly and honestly about feelings ... I want and need to run away. I am not good with other people's emotions either and I build defences to protect myself against them.
I learnt that I am fed up with L being away so much.
I've confessed this to people often but I didn't feel it like I felt it when surrounded by K and her family; her girls C and H and my little pudding M and her husband J. I felt like an outsider, a spare part and someone to be pitied especially when they - K and her parents - gave me a anniversary card on mine and L's wedding anniversary yesterday. My sisters don't give us a card but K and her family did, which is neither here nor there. It made me angry with L for putting me in that situation, even though its not really his fault and I made my own choice.
I learnt that I do not like being relied upon.
I want to run away when I'm faced with other people needing me. When I look in their eyes and see their raw need, the expectation and the desire to be reassured that I am always going to be there for them...I want to run away. I want to tell them that their faith and need is misplaced if they're counting on me. I want to tell them that they shouldn't count on me because I'm selfish and unreliable and although I have the best intentions I am flighty and I am drifter and so therefore shouldn't and can't be relied upon for anything.
I learnt that I can be a patient person.
I have all the patience in the world for K's children and they never cease to be an amazement for me - when I am with them they make me want to have children and that is an amazement! BUT that desire doesn't last long! It is enough for me to know that should I so choose to become a mother...I have it in me to be a good one.
Most importantly, I can and do trust that I have the patience to wait to heal fully. When the time is right and I am ready...things will stop hurting and I will stop doubting.
I learnt that I am duplicitous.
I am not good at allowing people to get close to me or permitting them to see my vulnerability, so I always pretend everything is okay and I am okay. I will, no matter what, pretend to be stronger than I am and therefore someone other than I am.
Monday, 4 April 2011
Love and Betrayal and No Such Thing as Forever
The other evening whilst at my mum's I got her to dig out the box of old photos.
Wrapped in a blanket, full of cold and feeling pretty miserable I went through them with mixed emotions. When my mum left my dad back when I was 9 we left with an overnight bag and one toy. Mum was in no fit mental state to think pragmatically and even if she was I can't believe that she would have thought for one moment that my dad would prove himself to be that malicious as to deny his only biological child and adopted children access to their belongings.
It took mum and the legal courts nearly two years to have him evicted from the the family home so that we could return to it. 1 adult, 3 children and a dog lived in a room in the top of a Victorian Terrace no bigger than 18ft by 18ft with no central heating until we had achieved this.
Upon returning to the family home we found it had been pillaged and ransacked...all the carpets had been ripped up, our toys and books were gone, our bedroom furniture had been marked and scored if it had been left at all, in the bedrooms wallpaper had been peeled off in places or drawn on, downstairs the wallpaper had been smeared with dog feces, the toilets not flushed or cleaned for weeks, the fitted kitchen had been ripped out and replaced with something that looked like it had been left by a fly tipper and in the grate of the front room fireplace were the remains of our baby photos and the photos from our childhood.
Mum, bless her, managed somehow to save some of the photos - her wedding pictures to my dad amoung them - for me. I'm always amazed by that when I think about it, I very much doubt that I could have found it in myself to be that bigger person and not throw them away or bad mouth him to me.
Spending time with my father-in law really made it hit home that I have no idea what its like to have a dad or a relationship with one. Does that sadden me? I don't know.
It sounds like a complete cop out to say that I feel like that one moment, the moment my parents split and I found out just what type of person my father was, shaped me in a permanent way. I learnt that no matter how much a man tells you he loves you and that he's going to be there for you forever...there's no such thing as forever.
All we have are heartfelt transient moments.
Wrapped in a blanket, full of cold and feeling pretty miserable I went through them with mixed emotions. When my mum left my dad back when I was 9 we left with an overnight bag and one toy. Mum was in no fit mental state to think pragmatically and even if she was I can't believe that she would have thought for one moment that my dad would prove himself to be that malicious as to deny his only biological child and adopted children access to their belongings.
It took mum and the legal courts nearly two years to have him evicted from the the family home so that we could return to it. 1 adult, 3 children and a dog lived in a room in the top of a Victorian Terrace no bigger than 18ft by 18ft with no central heating until we had achieved this.
Upon returning to the family home we found it had been pillaged and ransacked...all the carpets had been ripped up, our toys and books were gone, our bedroom furniture had been marked and scored if it had been left at all, in the bedrooms wallpaper had been peeled off in places or drawn on, downstairs the wallpaper had been smeared with dog feces, the toilets not flushed or cleaned for weeks, the fitted kitchen had been ripped out and replaced with something that looked like it had been left by a fly tipper and in the grate of the front room fireplace were the remains of our baby photos and the photos from our childhood.
Mum, bless her, managed somehow to save some of the photos - her wedding pictures to my dad amoung them - for me. I'm always amazed by that when I think about it, I very much doubt that I could have found it in myself to be that bigger person and not throw them away or bad mouth him to me.
Spending time with my father-in law really made it hit home that I have no idea what its like to have a dad or a relationship with one. Does that sadden me? I don't know.
It sounds like a complete cop out to say that I feel like that one moment, the moment my parents split and I found out just what type of person my father was, shaped me in a permanent way. I learnt that no matter how much a man tells you he loves you and that he's going to be there for you forever...there's no such thing as forever.
All we have are heartfelt transient moments.
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
The Apron
I used to hoard things.
I found it reassuring, comforting. Somehow the things that had special memories attached to them and that concerned the people I loved overwhelmed the rational part of me that wondered if really did need to keep all my birthday cards from the age of 9.
It made me feel safe.
It made me feel closer to people.
It made me feel protected.
The harsh realities of the world could somehow be kept out if I just barricaded myself in in the centre of all the things that I loved given to me by all the people that I loved.
As I've got older and certainly being married to L in the forces, which means we're apt to move around a fair bit, I've learnt that it isn't practical to have so much stuff.
And I've learnt that no matter how well you build your barricade...it doesn't always keep hurt out. I didn't even need to go to university to learn that one.
So I've had to learn to let go of things. I've had to learn to stop hoarding and I'm slowly learning what it means to travel light.
It started to snow today. Not heavy and not enough to settle but its still snowing.
As we're not going to be in our own home for Christmas this year we're not getting a tree. We're not putting up decorations, we won't be here to open our cards and we won't be snuggled up together on our sofa against the freezing British weather watching the same films that they (the grand old boys club that is the BBC) show every year.
Although we're still going to be with family and there will still be Roast Turkey with all the trimmings, brightly wrapped presents, Christmas pudding, mine pies, carols playing on loop and the odd glass of wine...I'm going to miss the things I mentioned before.
Simply put they remind me of my childhood. It wasn't always happy and it didn't last as long as most childhoods but at Christmas time...with my mum and my sister(s) - L was more often than not 'away' as she moved out at 16 - I got to feel protected, safe, secure and happy. If only for 12 days.
Before we fly out to the States to have Christmas with L's parents we're making a flying visit to my sister L and possibly my mum's on the way back home. My sister has promised me that we'll go out pick a tree and decorate it together.
And I can't stop smiling when I think about it.
What does snow and Christmas and my sister L have to do with an apron? One year, I can't remember exactly when, before my parents split I was bought an apron. Just a run-of-the-mill children's apron with a picture of a hedgehog on it surrounded by the alphabet.
Its nothing special to look at.
Except that it is very special to me by what it represents, by what it symbolises. And no matter how often I go through all of my belongings and ruthlessly examine things to discard, to throw away...to let go of...I always tuck that apron right back into the drawer.
And I know that wherever L and I go, to whatever part of the world, and for ever how long, I'm going to be taking that apron with me.
Some things are just meant to be hoarded.
I found it reassuring, comforting. Somehow the things that had special memories attached to them and that concerned the people I loved overwhelmed the rational part of me that wondered if really did need to keep all my birthday cards from the age of 9.
It made me feel safe.
It made me feel closer to people.
It made me feel protected.
The harsh realities of the world could somehow be kept out if I just barricaded myself in in the centre of all the things that I loved given to me by all the people that I loved.
As I've got older and certainly being married to L in the forces, which means we're apt to move around a fair bit, I've learnt that it isn't practical to have so much stuff.
And I've learnt that no matter how well you build your barricade...it doesn't always keep hurt out. I didn't even need to go to university to learn that one.
So I've had to learn to let go of things. I've had to learn to stop hoarding and I'm slowly learning what it means to travel light.
It started to snow today. Not heavy and not enough to settle but its still snowing.
As we're not going to be in our own home for Christmas this year we're not getting a tree. We're not putting up decorations, we won't be here to open our cards and we won't be snuggled up together on our sofa against the freezing British weather watching the same films that they (the grand old boys club that is the BBC) show every year.
Although we're still going to be with family and there will still be Roast Turkey with all the trimmings, brightly wrapped presents, Christmas pudding, mine pies, carols playing on loop and the odd glass of wine...I'm going to miss the things I mentioned before.
Simply put they remind me of my childhood. It wasn't always happy and it didn't last as long as most childhoods but at Christmas time...with my mum and my sister(s) - L was more often than not 'away' as she moved out at 16 - I got to feel protected, safe, secure and happy. If only for 12 days.
Before we fly out to the States to have Christmas with L's parents we're making a flying visit to my sister L and possibly my mum's on the way back home. My sister has promised me that we'll go out pick a tree and decorate it together.
And I can't stop smiling when I think about it.
What does snow and Christmas and my sister L have to do with an apron? One year, I can't remember exactly when, before my parents split I was bought an apron. Just a run-of-the-mill children's apron with a picture of a hedgehog on it surrounded by the alphabet.
Its nothing special to look at.
Except that it is very special to me by what it represents, by what it symbolises. And no matter how often I go through all of my belongings and ruthlessly examine things to discard, to throw away...to let go of...I always tuck that apron right back into the drawer.
And I know that wherever L and I go, to whatever part of the world, and for ever how long, I'm going to be taking that apron with me.
Some things are just meant to be hoarded.
Thursday, 28 October 2010
Day 28 What if You Were Pregnant or Got Someone Pregnant, What Would You do?
Hhmm...interesting.
Well, I don't know. One ovary with PCOS and the other one not functioning aside this is a tough call.
Neither L nor myself are ready for children, and I don't mean that in the 'if it should happen we'd come around because we're going to have them at some point aren't we' not ready. I mean in the really not ready way.
And, to be brutally honest children have never been on my to-do list, the fact I refer to things that I want to do as 'to-do' should be a dead give away as to what type of person I am.
That doesn't mean I don't love children, far from it. I think there is nothing more amazing in this world than them. One of my closest friends have 3 children - 2 girls Chloe 7 and Hermonie 3, and the new addition of a little boy Mason 2 months - and I love them all. Between the 3 of them I've been puked on, peed on and pooped on and they aren't even mine, so I know no one can question whether I like children because there's no way in heaven or hell a person who doesn't like children would allow that to happen to herself. She wouldn't be in a 5 mile radius of children in the first place.
But...I am not ready for my own and I'm very thankful that I get to give them back and don't have to be with them 24-7. I am too selfish a person to have children, I know that and I don't have a problem with it either.
What would I do if I fell pregnant?...I have no idea and I hope I don't have to find out anytime soon.
Well, I don't know. One ovary with PCOS and the other one not functioning aside this is a tough call.
Neither L nor myself are ready for children, and I don't mean that in the 'if it should happen we'd come around because we're going to have them at some point aren't we' not ready. I mean in the really not ready way.
And, to be brutally honest children have never been on my to-do list, the fact I refer to things that I want to do as 'to-do' should be a dead give away as to what type of person I am.
That doesn't mean I don't love children, far from it. I think there is nothing more amazing in this world than them. One of my closest friends have 3 children - 2 girls Chloe 7 and Hermonie 3, and the new addition of a little boy Mason 2 months - and I love them all. Between the 3 of them I've been puked on, peed on and pooped on and they aren't even mine, so I know no one can question whether I like children because there's no way in heaven or hell a person who doesn't like children would allow that to happen to herself. She wouldn't be in a 5 mile radius of children in the first place.
But...I am not ready for my own and I'm very thankful that I get to give them back and don't have to be with them 24-7. I am too selfish a person to have children, I know that and I don't have a problem with it either.
What would I do if I fell pregnant?...I have no idea and I hope I don't have to find out anytime soon.
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Changes
I spoke to my sister T - in person on the phone - for the first time in months last night. I have to admit usually I avoid my sister at all cost and when I do have to spend time with her i.e. I can't get out of it it isn't something I look forward to. Every mile that we cover which brings us closer together fills me with dread and fear and toxic emotions that last for days. Even now, hours after our conversation, I am still thinking about it and chewing over her words. And although I am not crying (for once) and I laughed along with her I hid that what she said hurt.
While we chatted I told her I'd been diagnosed with PCOS. I'd been putting it off and putting it off, not just because I didn't know the right words but because speaking to her is never an enjoyable experience for me. T's response was to ask and this is a direct quote 'Are you that bothered? Do you want children?' Not the reaction I was looking for but in hindsight...not surprising.
In her eyes I'm not her little sister with a condition which influences her moods, has an impact on her fertility, and has other health implications, including mental. No, I am her moody sister who is a drama queen, cries too much and over the smallest of things and makes a bigger deal than is necessary out of everything. I've always been like that in her eyes so there is no cause for concern. She did however, at least 2 or 3 times say she was there for me if I wanted to talk...hhhmmm let me think about that...why would I want to open up and confide my inner most fears and feelings to a person who dismisses everything that I have to say and feel as being a drama queen? Oh that's right because this, according to mum, is how T shows that she loves me and apparently I should accept whatever form - insults and belittlements included - that she chooses to show me this.
T's advice? Well, aside from me remembering that she is always there for me if I need to talk, every day I should remember at least one thing that is a positive...sorry I can't type for crazy manic laughter. If I don't laugh I'll only cry and what's the point in that?
Telling my family I've been diagnosed with PCOS was a big deal for me. I wanted to be supported and comforted and reassured. I wanted them to be concerned enough to research it for themselves and I wanted them to be understanding. Really what I wanted most of all was for them to show they cared. If I'm honest my needing this outweighed my wanting. When I told each of them the response I needed to hear was that they were worried for me, upset for me and to be enfolded in their arms while they reaasured me everything was going to be okay. I needed to hear that they were going to be there for me. And I didn't. Mum quoted the popular myth all my symptoms are just the product of 'What it means to be a woman'. My sister L laughed and said 'At least you have a reason for being hairy, I'm just hairy' T said 'You've always been moody, cried a lot and suffered with permanent PMS' My husband, L, said 'My sister has it, you should talk to my mum' His mum, my mother-in-law J said...nothing at all.
At the time I was too caught up in it all to recognise my hurt for what it was - need. Does knowing that change anything? I don't know but it does raise the question that if I look closely and see a pattern forming - unmet needs and a desire for relationships to be something that their not - shouldn't I be the one to change? Wouldn't that be easier? Shouldn't I just stop searching for things that it is extremely unlikely I am going to find or get? Wouldn't the less painful option be to accept I can't change things? Surely if all the people I need things from aren't there for me in the way that I feel I need them, I should take a look at the one thing that is singular - me - and accept I am what needs to change? From all of these questions the main one to then ask would be how can I adapt myself and my needs to see that they are fulfilled? There must be something in that, surely?
While we chatted I told her I'd been diagnosed with PCOS. I'd been putting it off and putting it off, not just because I didn't know the right words but because speaking to her is never an enjoyable experience for me. T's response was to ask and this is a direct quote 'Are you that bothered? Do you want children?' Not the reaction I was looking for but in hindsight...not surprising.
In her eyes I'm not her little sister with a condition which influences her moods, has an impact on her fertility, and has other health implications, including mental. No, I am her moody sister who is a drama queen, cries too much and over the smallest of things and makes a bigger deal than is necessary out of everything. I've always been like that in her eyes so there is no cause for concern. She did however, at least 2 or 3 times say she was there for me if I wanted to talk...hhhmmm let me think about that...why would I want to open up and confide my inner most fears and feelings to a person who dismisses everything that I have to say and feel as being a drama queen? Oh that's right because this, according to mum, is how T shows that she loves me and apparently I should accept whatever form - insults and belittlements included - that she chooses to show me this.
T's advice? Well, aside from me remembering that she is always there for me if I need to talk, every day I should remember at least one thing that is a positive...sorry I can't type for crazy manic laughter. If I don't laugh I'll only cry and what's the point in that?
Telling my family I've been diagnosed with PCOS was a big deal for me. I wanted to be supported and comforted and reassured. I wanted them to be concerned enough to research it for themselves and I wanted them to be understanding. Really what I wanted most of all was for them to show they cared. If I'm honest my needing this outweighed my wanting. When I told each of them the response I needed to hear was that they were worried for me, upset for me and to be enfolded in their arms while they reaasured me everything was going to be okay. I needed to hear that they were going to be there for me. And I didn't. Mum quoted the popular myth all my symptoms are just the product of 'What it means to be a woman'. My sister L laughed and said 'At least you have a reason for being hairy, I'm just hairy' T said 'You've always been moody, cried a lot and suffered with permanent PMS' My husband, L, said 'My sister has it, you should talk to my mum' His mum, my mother-in-law J said...nothing at all.
At the time I was too caught up in it all to recognise my hurt for what it was - need. Does knowing that change anything? I don't know but it does raise the question that if I look closely and see a pattern forming - unmet needs and a desire for relationships to be something that their not - shouldn't I be the one to change? Wouldn't that be easier? Shouldn't I just stop searching for things that it is extremely unlikely I am going to find or get? Wouldn't the less painful option be to accept I can't change things? Surely if all the people I need things from aren't there for me in the way that I feel I need them, I should take a look at the one thing that is singular - me - and accept I am what needs to change? From all of these questions the main one to then ask would be how can I adapt myself and my needs to see that they are fulfilled? There must be something in that, surely?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)