Life choices – Chapter 4

Always a mother

My son and his girlfriend are visiting for a few days. Although they’ve been together now for almost two years ( I think?) I feel I don’t really know her that well.

I remember when he went on his first date with her, at the time he was 22 and living with me. We were mid / between some form of lockdown (the Covid early days now merge into one big blur of dates, restrictions, washing shopping and overreacting to every cough). Meeting outside at a distance was permissible at this time.

My son is a lovely, quiet soul, very introverted, very clever and a deep thinker. Sometimes its hard to know where ‘he’s at’, as he shares very little. But he is a great critical thinker when I have a problem.

I was washing up at the time, he walked into the room saying, in a serious tone ‘ I have something to tell you’. I turned from the sink, I was worried, and my mind raced with, ‘what I have done wrong’ thoughts.. I quickly concluded nothing, and was all ears so to speak. (Its worrying that I went straight to the defensive). He began to speak, ‘I’m going to meet a girl, and I’m only telling you because of Covid……

I relaxed, inside I smiled, on the outside I was trying to keep a neutral response. I was excited for him, impressed he’d told me, but knew if I overreacted in any way he would bottle up. He had never spoken to me about any girls before, this was a big moment. Of course there was a slight risk in meeting someone new at this time, but I was just so pleased for him. I always thought it would be so good for him to have someone else who was ‘there for him’. I always worried that our divorce had deeply affected him, and I am unlikely to ever know the answer to this, as he doesn’t want to discuss it, and I respect his choice.

And then nothing happened.

Because of Covid, work etc they didn’t meet for weeks. Eventually they did, he said it was fine, on date two he showed me a picture, she looked nice, very petite I remember thinking. Then nothing happened again for a few weeks. I was worried it was over, but he seemed fine and eventually after a bit of stop and starting, it seemed to settle into once, twice then three times a week. Versions of Covid continuing, and with my own work and house selling and moving dramas the months passed, they continued dating and I didn’t know much, but the main thing he seemed fine. He seemed slightly happier – it was lovely to see.

The big reveal happened on his birthday. I was to meet her over a meal. I had my hair cut that morning, I needed to look good as ‘his mum’, I dressed up and bit and met them there. I didn’t really have time to be nervous, but I knew he would be and all I wanted was for it to go well, and of course I wanted to like the new GF. My daughter had already met her, they’d been to his dads for tea. It upset me a bit that the dad ‘he’ had got to meet her first, but I knew this was genuinely more about circumstance – at the time I was houseless.

It went well, we were only together for about 90 mins, but I was happy. So different to perhaps what I had expected, but sweet, caring, clearly intelligent ( she would have to be) and most impressively of all she knew a lot about me and our family. And before you think this is slightly narcissistic, I should add – for me this showed they talked and shared and that’s what I loved, it felt like he was trying to connect her to his past and family, and that she wanted this connection, and that felt so good.

Fast forward two years…. and they’re still together….. phew but yet I worry more…

Yes they look happy and close, but is what they have strong enough to weather the storms, the trials of love. I ended up in a messy divorce, from a relationship that everyone felt was so great, we were told we had an ‘energy’, that we had something special, that people just knew we’d get married. And we did and we had 20 good years, before the intense pain. I love my son so much, so deeply, at times it hurts… and as a mother I have an instinct to protect which I guess I’ll take to the grave with me.

I’m reminded of the wise words a friend gave me shortly after my daughter was born. ‘There’s always something to worry about with kids, in 6 weeks this current ‘big issue’ will pass and something new will rear its head’, be that nappy rash, not sleeping, not eating, not walking etc , and now it seems to be ‘protecting his heart’.

This ‘homily’ has got me through the years and got me through my own life. I guess I need to refocus on this, enjoy what they have at the moment and the luxury of having time with them….

I’m now trying to shove my worrying gene, back down in its bag and get up and sort breakfast ……………

‘Our deepest fear …..’

Today I treated myself to a back, neck and shoulders massage. Having trained in massage many moons ago, and loving a massage I ‘know my onions’ so to speak when it comes to both massage type and quality.

Over the years I’ve probably had a couple of hundred massages, and my conclusion is that there are a few truly brilliant massage therapists and many therapists are just running through the motions, rubbing their hands aimless up and down your back as they plan their shopping or rest of day. I would place myself down the end of the scale, whilst I enjoyed it and found it very grounding for me, I don’t think I was that good, and neither did I put in the practice to improve. In short I would rather receive than give a massage.

Since moving to a new area I have been trying to find good local therapists, these are the people who help to keep me and my body on the straight and narrow. And 11 months in I’ve had limited success, but there’s always hope …

The first lady I went to was a Thai therapist and exceedingly skilled, but she insisted on talking all the way through the treatment, which might occasionally be ok if you know them well, but her conversation (or should I say monologue) was a toxic rant about men, and at total odds with the promoted promise of a ‘blissful, relaxing treatment’. This was one heck of an angry therapist. I’ve never returned.

Attempt number two was a therapist working in a small fabulous converted lodge, with large windows leaning out over the Lake District Fells – big tick. The place looked, felt and smelt good. However the treatment was sadly lacking, the therapist was at the start of her career. I later found out that she had done most of her training during Covid, and my treatment felt as ‘virtual’ as her training probably was.. it was almost as if she was fearful of touching me.

My third attempt was much better, a Hotel Spa booking provided a short Scottish lady who applied all her inner might to tackle my knots, it was good, but at more than an hour away, and hotel spa prices, this was unlikely to be my regular treat.

But today walking up the hill to the treatment room I had a good feeling and I began musing over ‘touch’ as a ‘gift’. I believe we all have a special ‘gift’, some are clear what theirs’s is and enjoy it through fun, hobbies or as their career. For others its a mystery, unknown or hidden from the world as Marianne Williams put it’

our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous’ .

The gift I admire most in others it the ability to make you feel truly seen, a combination of real listening, emotional intelligence, warmth, empathy and genuine interest – I have one fabulous friend who naturally does this. The other gift, the one I would have for myself, if we got to choose, would be the ability to sing. For me singing, in tune singing, is an expression of the soul and love. I have an inkling of my gift, and I will share that in a future blog.

I continued up to the therapy room, a dedicated room in the local community centre. The building has big rooms, small rooms and shared toilet facilities filled with posters about sexual health and child line. Perhaps not a promising start. But as you enter the treatment room, your worries, the outside world and your shoes are left outside.

Inside the room is a haven for relaxation, ‘rest, relax and restore’ imagery and scents of ylang ylang and patchouli.

45 minutes later and I’m writing this from cloud 9. The treatment was bliss, no other words required.

When I thanked Maya at the end and said how good she was, she replied I love it, its my gift. My respect for and connection with her deepened.

What do you care about more than yourself?

I’ve just been out to buy myself an easter egg. This is not good. I used to struggle with binge eating and bulimia… so overeating is a part of me, but a part I’ve largely had under control for the last 10 plus years. In recent years I have had the occasional bad day (even then nothing like they used to be – thankfully) so hopefully this is a minor mishap.

As I stomped down the street to the shop, with the express intent on buying and then eating aforementioned egg, I reflected on how I was feeling. I was cross with myself – why am I not doing the things I want? why do I feel stressed? why am I not finding time for important things like writing my blog or dating?

The answer was not far away. ‘Work’ that pesky four letter word. This morning I had felt vexed, crossed, frustrated and mildly tormented all within 30 minutes – by my work. And simply because ‘I care too much about work’. As I made a conscious move last year to a lower graded role to try and avoid work stress this acknowledgement is more significant. But as my sister said this is as much about me as it is work. Whatever I do I will probably care too much.

As I stomped on – shop in sight – I did my usual self-flagellation. Is it wrong to say I care too much? what would my boss think? Does this mean I’m a bad person?

Fortunately my brain was working well today, I only did one mental loop before I realised the real issue here. The issue is not caring too much, as to care is good, but its about my caring hierarchy, and the fact that I place my own self-care behind my care for work! I cancel plans for work, I deprioritize exercise for work, I don’t cook good meals because of work. Wow …. of course I knew I overworked but this was a simple but fascinating realization when I looked at it through the lens of a caring hierarchy.

They say that ‘awareness’ precedes change so this is good, but I think it could take some time to re-programme 30 plus years of my working life. So in the random way that I work, my middle name is ‘left field’, I decided to add something in as a new priority. For the next 30 days I will try and blog every day..

Will this make me less stressed? who knows, but my bizarre thinking is that blogging is partly self care as it is a creative way to get to know myself better – lets see.

What do you care about more than yourself ? ( saying ‘your children’ is an acceptable answer)

Is decisiveness nature or nurture?

Is decisiveness a gene – like height and eye colour and I’m just recessive in this respect?

I often wonder what I was like as a child in terms of decision making. The narrative around me as a child (from my siblings and parents) was that I was bossy. I was the youngest, I was confident, I was supposedly dad’s favourite – I remember sitting on his lap driving the car, (a few years before the pressure to ‘clunk and click’ your seatbelts on every trip) but I don’t think he was around that much. I also remember throwing a few strops. The best one I can remember was arguing with my sister (we always did) and then going upstairs and trashing her room – I can see that was not good behavior, but it also makes me smile a bit, I also remember slamming doors and on one holiday when I felt I was being left out I locked the door on our joint bedroom and fell deeply asleep so the others could not get in; in the end they had to climb through the window. I don’t think I was a spoilt brat – I really don’t ….

I also remember at one point hearing my aunt refer to me as ‘a right little madam’ and that hurt, it hurt deeply, and my response was, an ‘I’ll show them’ attitude. How I ‘showed them’ I now recognise is part of an unhealthy occasional pattern in my life. ‘I”ll show them’, translated into starting to withdraw. I can see now that when I feel misunderstood by those I love and care for, I start to retreat. I felt unfairly labelled and the way I would ‘show them’ was by going quiet, by withdrawing, by not asking and not engaging and all my focus moved to my friends. I’ve always had great friends.

I know my parents loved me; I have never doubted this. But as the youngest of four in a crazy busy house, where I seemed to be ‘ok’ relative to my brother, who was always in trouble, my elder sister deal who was grappling with being a teen mum, another sister who struggled with friendships and felt bullied. In this cacophony of needs and problems being quiet was good, so I was often left to my own devices.

Then when I turned 11 there were four generations living in the same house – my ailing grandma, my sister and her baby – my mum was stretched beyond belief.

So I became incredibly self-sufficient. I loved learning and loved school and I did well there, I liked running and exercise. I didn’t ask for anything I slotted in and built my life around the ‘rest of them.’ The only thing I asked for was clothes. I loved to dress up, so did my mum and we would shop together, they were special times.

I began to spend a lot of time in my room, I would write, draw and do yoga – I was an early yoga adopter, my mum had a great book on yoga, I would look at and copy the poses, I was very practical. I think, and hope I still have that book.

I have this theory that as I felt slightly ‘out of the picture’ and felt I needed to be relatively ‘silent and undemanding’ I began to suppress some of my nature during these formative years. I didn’t learn how to tap into new thinking, or inner desires. I think I metaphorically ‘shoved a lot of me back deep down inside me’ co-incidentally this was the same time as I began to develop eating issues and stomach problems.

My Uni choice was random, I had no idea what I really wanted and no one to guide me. I started a pattern of making personal choices by ‘moving away’ from things or falling into them, rather than goal setting and go getting. Reflecting now – I’m not sure I’ve ever set a goal for me in my whole life?! Wow I’ve had to pause after that, as its true….

Without realizing it perhaps I’ve had a rather stoic approach, as my attachment to anything (apart from to my kids) is low. In the workplace I have a reputation for playing devil’s advocate – suggesting different ideas / approaches and being able to advocate very well for whatever it is, but rarely ever wedded to one particular route.

Then in my marriage my husband always made the big decisions ……………

Now I’m at a stage in my life when I have only me to think about on a day-to-day basis, where I have so much freedom and so many options, the world is my oyster and it’s time to live those dreams… but I’m not sure if I have any (perhaps just one – which I need to come back to)

This post wasn’t intended to be a sad one but stopping now perhaps it is. Is it sad to live day by day and have no goals or dreams, does that mean I’m more living in the moment?

I’m at a point in my life where I need to make some decisions but finding it sooo hard…. do I stick with my happenstance approach and see what evolves or do I try and work through this – I can’t decide :). Or perhaps I should explore that inkling of a dream – which is to live by the sea…..

How do you make decisions?

Is life just one big game of whackamole?

Many years ago, I worked for the Police in a non-uniformed role on a short-term contract. I remember my first day walking into the office and seeing row after row of middle-aged men, in grey suits working at computers. I was horrified it looked so bleak and boring. I may have been tempted to run, but I needed a job, it was near to home, and I was there.

I was part of a small team of 4 men, all 40 plus, one of them was also on a short-term contract and we hit it off quite quickly. His name was Dave, he was in his early 50’s, very clever, quite wise and quite bruised from workplace politics over the years. He was clearly capable of and had come from a better, more responsible job, and was looking for more, but he needed work. He based his working life on game theory and was bemused by my enduring positivity, naivety and bonhomie in the workplace. And even more enthralled by my early dalliances in the post-divorce dating world.

After a few months of friendship, I was flattered to be invited for tea and to meet his wife, who was lovely, and told me that Dave liked few people but somehow, I’d cut the mustard so to speak.

Sadly, we have since lost touch, but I remember a few wise and profound things he told me, I also think he helped me understand more about the male psyche in the workplace, where pride kicks in and (massive gender stereotype warning ahead) how I think redundancy etc seems to affect men more than women.

One of these lasting memoires was his view on the fairness or not of life. In my view its simple – life is not fair, but it’s not something I dwell upon, life is what you make of it. I remember our conversation on this, and I sensed a degree of bitterness in him on this subject, as he talked of those people, he knew who in his words ‘went through life without touching the sides’ i.e., who lived a charmed or easy life. As I get older, I realise that I don’t know anyone who fits this brief, my close friends have suffered losing a son to a brain tumor, bankruptcy, affairs, husband’s suicide, the deep tragedies of mankind.

Yesterday as I was laughing (in a trying not to cry way) about my current challenges and Dave’s phrase ‘without touching the sides’ came to mind. Fortunately, none of my current challenges are the tragedies I’ve listed above, but instead I seem to be moving through a series of minor to mid-level annoyances / stressors, the polar opposite to the easy glide, I seem to be touching and bouncing off multiple sides of life, getting caught on one twig, wriggling free to then get caught up in another.

A few weeks ago, I was really struggling on the friendship front. Uber keen to ‘find a friend’ in my new location, someone I could connect with, who seemed to have similar references points and interests. I thought I’d met a couple of such people in the first few months since my move, we’d meet for a walk, arrange the next, then it fell through, then the next fell through again and again. I consider myself a fairly flexible and understanding person and know that things often change, and that it’s easy to overcommit and for things get in the way of plans. But after 3 or 4 last minute bails and on one of these occasions I saw one ‘potential friend’ who’d told me she was ill heading out later that evening. I was hurt, questioning my friend-ability and also annoyed that I’d wasted time when I could have gone out on my own. After some reflection I decided enough is enough and these early forays and hopes for friendship were officially dashed.

About a month ago I met someone who again I thought I could click with, we first met round the campfire of a women’s circle, then the next day bumped into each other at a wild swimming event – clearly, we have similar hobbies. On chatting, chatting and more chatting (all good signs) more similarities appeared. Since then, more swims, texting, sharing jokes its looking good… Then a strange thing happened, two other women stepped forward keen to do things, keen to share secrets… scarily I seem to be making friends .. I’m in danger of feeling fully settled.

But just as one part of my life feels calm and comfortable, the car begins to make strange noises, the plumbing in my house decides it wants to be more than just a set of pipes, it now wants to make music all night long. I’m not sleeping and without sleep I just want to cry….

Then came the rain – the real rain, and after a lovely day out I returned to find a flood in my garage, wood store and back porch, I feel as if I’m lurching between these minor challenges. I think there’s a lesson in here – I just haven’t found it yet. Instead, I can feel myself getting cross, getting indignant as the flooding could potentially have been avoided if my landlord had undertaken essential maintenance. I feel the anger rising I want to hit things, to whack things in true whackamole style. But I know that if I whack something down, something else may well pop back up….

Better still to aim for balance and calm, and put my whacker away…

How’s your life?

The beauty of getting lost

Thursday evening was beautiful. The sun was shining and the heat was building up in the car, I probably should have put the roof down – but I was on the motorway, so it was too late. I was playing some of my favourite music, Rag n Bone man, on repeat. I recently went to one of his concerts and I am proud to say I knew ever lyric – I could have stood in for him if needed …. well apart from the fact I don’t have his amazing voice, and the audience would have been mightily disappointed! I love the soul and power of his voice and his lyrics touch me deep inside.

This week has been a weird and tiring one. My son was due to make his first visit to me this weekend – but he got Covid and so was unable to come, this has really upset me, and I’ve shed a few tears. I have some ongoing admin stuff to work through with my siblings which has also been very draining, and I’ve been toying with lots of things in my head. So, as I started the drive, I was tired and deep in thought.

I knew Thursday’s route reasonably well. With the sun shining, the scenery seemed even stronger than usual, the hills even larger and I was driving mulling over issues, against a backdrop of ‘wow this place’ is so beautiful thoughts running through my head. The traffic was fairly light, it usually is on this stretch, and I drive fairly slowly. I’m not a great lover of speed (in any aspect of my life) and definitely not on a motorway … feeling the pressure of someone driving on my tail really stresses me, I soon get hot, flustered and so I prefer to stay in the inside and slower lanes.

After a while I had this slight nagging thought – where am I ? do I usually drive into this range of incredible hills, what signs am I looking for. It was a slightly scary thought – not as in I’m lost, but more a wow where have I metaphorically been… and I’m driving a car – how can I have such little awareness of my route … but yet at the same time I did.

We talk about auto-pilot, but this was more about being fully absorbed, I was in the ‘flow’ .. I realised that my mind had dropped all my worries and contemplations I was (as Wiki would define it) ‘fully immersed in a feeling of energized focus, full enjoyment in the process’ and as a result something weird happened to time (again according to Wiki) ‘transformation in one’s sense of time’. I was no longer driving home.. I was absorbing and feeling the beauty of my surroundings, I felt rewarded and ‘filled’ by this. Then a moment of panic, I began to wonder and worry about my driving during this time, had I been safe .. but no one had beeped at me, I was still in the same line, at the same speed – yes, I think I was safe.

A sign appeared on the motorway – I was not where I should be, I had never been this far before on this motorway. As I headed towards the exit I realised that I was not one, but two junctions past mine, and when I checked later this equated to, 20 miles off course. 20 minutes in the complete flow of driving and connecting to the surroundings. I began to doubt myself again – had I drifted off, but no it was the hills I was in those hills.

I got off the motorway, did a full 360 and got straight back on in the correct direction. I switched off my CD and focused hard for signs – I needed to get home.

As I drove back fully attentive for road signs, I had a huge realisation. I may not be fully settled in my job, I still miss good friends and family, but I realised I could never fully leave this area.

Five months ago, when I moved up I was nervous, unsure and convinced that I would return to Warwickshire. At the time I told myself as much as others, that I would aim to do at least a year and then see how I feel, and at the same time I gave myself permission to not stay if it was not right. Now after 5 months here, I realise that what most people say is so true ‘once you come to the lakes you never leave’.

That evening I realised I can’t let go of the beauty, this ‘living on the edge of opportunity’ feeling, the lakes, the hills, the nature, the fresh air, green algae and all – this is now in my lifeblood.

Would I have realised this if I had not got lost… I don’t know, I don’t need to know. I know that I need to get a base here, I may not always live here, but I need a base so I can choose to stay here or visit here as and when I want.

I’ve signed up with the estate agents…. let’s see what happens now.

Which part of you is tired?

Today I saw a blog entitled ‘when your soul is tired’, it grabbed me, not because my soul is tired – quite the contrary, but it made me acknowldge my own physcial tiredness and change my plans for the day accordingly.

Many years ago when I was going through my divorce I started counselling. I remember the counsellor well, and I saw him on and off for 4 or 5 years. I felt very comfortable with him, lets call him Pete, he listened well (I suppose this is pretty fundamental for a counsellor), he regularly asked me, ‘how did that feel?’ and would often gently challenge my response. His common line was ‘I know you, you can rationalize anything- you’re a very rational person’ but what did it feel like, below your head?’

He had a good point.. I can explain, make sense of, logically forgive, understand, rationalize and talk my way through most things,, but the feeling side, well they’re so well packed away down there (not neatly, but securely) and ‘beaten’ into submission by my logic that they may not emerge for years and years…

Pete also used to regularly referred to the four perspectives of life, and how these need to be fulfilled and in balance to achieve a sense of wellbeing. These being the spiritual dimension, our physicality, mental perspective and emotions.

The year of 2021 was a tough one for me. I had to move out of my family house due to a nothing less than a nightmare neighbor. He would shout, and he was a big man, he would swear and occasionally he would bang. This could go on for literally 12 hours a day… during the autumn 2020 lockdown, he shouted on and off for 6 weeks solid. I felt trapped and was literally at breaking point… I screamed back, I shouted back, I stopped, I cried, I sobbed, the only thing I didn’t do was sleep – and I am someone who needs sleep. I was a wreck ….

All the agencies knew about him, people tried to help, but there was so much bureaucracy as he owned the house, and he presented as a vulnerable old man, and he said he couldn’t help it. I won’t continue as I feel my old anxiety coming back.

At the same time there was a huge change at work and I didn’t like the direction of travel, so I opted to leave. At the time it was a huge shock and it wasn’t what I really wanted to do, but I knew it was the right thing ( and I don’t regret it) but it was painful. I was going through such a lot on every front. I was exhausted physically and emotionally. Mentally I think I was ok (others may disagree) I knew that if I didn’t leave my house my mental health would be in danger, but I think at that point it was fine. As for my spirituality, I had, as I always do faith.

I had faith (my own personal faith) that it would all be ok. Against the backdrop of the pains above, I had this little calling (I still don’t know to what exactly) saying that although that life was good it wasn’t fulfilling my spiritual needs. So the events of 2021 were perhaps an exceedingly painful way to present me with an opportunity to redress this.

So I left my house and job and am now I’m working in the lakes -(it wasn’t quite as easy as that but you get the gist…)

And now I feel that my spiritual needs are being better met – the lakes, the water, the mountains – all speak to my soul. I get excited by the thought that there’s an adventure around every corner, I feel the hills calling me, I feel at home as I climb them. My soul has been awakened. I’m not convinced this is where I will settle long term, but its great to feel this alive and relatively free again. Physically though I’m tired and this is what I knew today …. I’ve been living like I’m still 20 – swimming, climbing, walking, cycling and I need to slow down a bit, rest a bit not for long but for a few days… The blog today reminded me of this and I’m now reminding myself that the water will wait and still be there in a few days .

Which part of you is tired… ?

So how did I get here?

There’s a song in there somewhere.

Just over 4 months I crammed a small selection of my worldly possessions ( I am never going to be that minimalist poster girl) into my small convertible and headed north… At the time I was houseless and jobless or footloose and fancy free – depending upon what’s important to you.

I joined the M6, one of the many soulless motorways in the UK, sat nav on, CDs playing (yes you did read CD!) and headed north to the lake district. A mix of trepidation, exhaustion, excitement and sheer relief as just an hour earlier I could neither close my boot or put the roof back down, and I had thoughts of hire car flashing through my mind. But somehow it all just fitted, the roof and boot closed and off I went. Most of the journey I was in that zombie driving state where I intersperse routinely checking speed, mirrors, ahead, behind ( back off big lorry why do you have to get so near!) with moments of singing, basic thoughts such as when will I eat/ stop for the loo. It was far from being a wistful moment of reflection.

The journey went pretty well and I began to pick out familiar landmarks around the lakes – which are unbelievably stunning, and then I landed, physically anyway.

I had taken a new job in a charity, on a beautiful lakeside estate with a house to rent included. Sounds idyllic – but I knew no-one…. but I was still feeling very rough after Covid… but the day I arrived it was grey and drizzly and there was no real welcome (maybe I expect too much)….

I opened the door of my new little house, I was literally opening the chapter on my new life. At this stage I was not fearful, I had rationalized any fears with a ‘ if you hate it you just leave’ mantra, and knowing there is always a room for me at my brothers….

The house was furnished, nothing fancy and way too much grey, but furnished. The the main thing I initially noticed was – oh boy was it cold! Still March, old slate built, no real insulation. I whacked the heating up, I found my chocolate (I’m never far away from some), sat down and breathed long and hard… well this is it! No turning round now, although my mantra is ‘I can go back’, I’d also committed to giving it a year.

I now had a house of my own, I was starting a job in two days… I was rejoining those established social norms distilled into me since a child – I’m not saying they are right but they are definitely there! One thought creeped into my mind – had I actually been brave enough..?

4 months prior when I’d idly typed ‘jobs in Cumbria’ into the Guardian jobs search engine I’d wanted a change, I’d wanted excitement and this ticked many boxes but there was just a whisper in my ear….. ‘had I been brave enough?’

I promised myself I’d write

It’s been an unbelievably long time since I’ve blogged… I’ve thought about it, I’ve had great ideas and catchy titles, I’ve reminded myself how much I enjoy it and also that blogging is a step forward in the right direction – but it still hasn’t happened.

I’ll admit I’m a very undisciplined person, I regularly have chocolate for breakfast, don’t tidy my room, procrastinate and put things off… but even for me this has been extreme. Why do we not find time for things we enjoy? its like not wearing the best dress, not using the new coat (I’m currently doing this). Its almost as if the idea is so special we like to keep it that way, or is it that I’m just an incredibly poor user of time… probably more the latter.

But anyway I’m here now, I’m back and it feels good. And I have so much to say … since I last wrote pre Xmas I’ve moved house twice, I’ve moved areas, I’ve started a new job and actually have quite a significantly different lifestyle…. all to follow… I also had Covid much worse than ever anticipated and it stole my stamina – damn Covid!

And all these big life events have been in line with my guiding principles for Chapter 4 – happenstance and sustainability – more so than I could ever have imagined. Putting this out to the universe as my mantra, whether overtly or subtly, seems to have worked.. and I’ve been riding the wave of happenstance… Maybe I need to try a similar approach to my manhunt ( I use the phrase colloquially rather than in a life threatening way)!

So you may be wondering what bought me back…. in a word superstition. You know when you say to yourself … something like ‘if I choose the correct key from all these for the padlock….. then its good luck for all my life’ , and then when it doesn’t work first time I tend to add on something like, ‘well I’d started to unlock this before I said that’ or I’ve got 3 chances’ or ‘don’t be so stupid’ … but I still do regularly make up such things – curses / spells whatever you want to call it ..

And todays’ superstitious spell / phrase / was as simple as ‘if you don’t do it today you never will!’ and somehow it worked. Humans are such contrary things – or is it just me!

PS the sunset has no real connection to this theme – but I feel in love with it

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When someone fulfills a dream

My attention span is currently quite limited, so I’ll have to admit Facebook neatly fits my entertainment requirements. I can dip in and out for 5-10 minutes here and there it requires no effort, the headlines are brief. Whilst doing this today one story caught my attention.

I’ve been divorced now for 11 or maybe 12 years – I think it’s good that I don’t know exactly how long, apart from for the odd financial issue why does it matter what I once was?

During this time of being the unmarried / divorced me (and overall happy with that) I have had a couple of flings and relationships – I am not sure where the official cut off point is between these two. Probably another way of looking at it is, how many of these potential suitors (what a great word) did I introduce to one or both kids / my family / best friends and the answer is 3. So, these 3 are definitely significant, then there’s the one that got away (and I still lament over this) and the one that was lust at first sight who will also be worth a mention at some point.

However out of the 3 there is one who stands out, one who whenever I think of or talk about still makes me smile – let’s call him Sam.

I remember my first date with Sam. We’d met on Bumble and after a couple of good phone calls we’d agreed to meet for a drink and possible meal. He was further away than I would have liked and he was not my usual type, for starters he had hair – I actually prefer the follicle(ly) challenged man (this is incredibly helpful now I’m dating in my 50s)!

I remember my first impression he was a real man, a man of presence and gravitas. The meal went well, but I wasn’t quite sure, then during the after-meal drink, he tried to sneak a kiss on my cheek, I advised him this could be considered sexual assault, but I was beginning to fall for his charm. We left the evening arm in arm…. The next morning, I woke up to lovely text messages. It was odd I’d never had such overt compliments, within a week I had flowers, the first of many bunches. I initially found it hard to relax into this type of relationship, my over cynical mind at play – what does he want? Why’s he doing all this? As a good friend said – perhaps he just really likes you and is being nice……….

The relationship lasted 8 months followed by a further almost 12 months of re-trying, finishing, stalking, crying, you know the usual end of relationship antics….. . The first 5 months of our proper relationship were simply amazing and included one of the best holidays of my life touring the south of France in the heat of the summer in an MG sports car. As we travelled around Provence we danced, we ate, we swam, we played scrabble, sadly there was not much love making (that was one of the problems) but it was a summer of love. I was glowing, he said he loved me, and I think this was the first of three times that he asked me to marry him – each time I said no, I’ve never regretted this.

Over time the reality of the real Sam was revealed. Some of the truth he volunteered and some I stumbled across. The apparent confidence was a huge (and very successful) mask – underneath he was shy, lacking in confidence and incredibly lonely and much more (but that’s another story). Bullied terribly as a child, and with parents who did not know how to show emotion. There were parts of him that had never grown up – he was a great dreamer and a huge fan of Disney. Whilst sometimes endearing and inspiring this love of escapism translated into a childlike lack of responsibility, and a complete inability to accept his part in the many issues which eventually drove us apart.

One of the dreams he shared was to sail across the world. He’d been on one sailing holiday around the Greek Isles years ago which he’d loved and his plan was to buy a boat and sail. I remember the many hours he sat poised over great shipping manuals. In the earlier days he tried to persuade me to join him. It had never been a dream of mine and I get seasick quite easily, but I loved him, so I seriously considered it. I tried to work out how it could work, how and when I would see my children. But to be honest I doubted he’d ever do it. He was not actually a qualified skipper, he had no boat, and he had limited money, but he had huge unfaltering dreams.

After the initial 8 months we broke up, and then during our on-off time his obsession became greater, it was all he’d talk about, we watched videos of round the world sailors and this obsession continued until we finally completely and utterly parted, and metaphorically sailed off in opposite directions.

Of course, with Facebook you never completely let go unless you consciously choose the ‘unfriend’ option. I thought about it many times, would seeing less of him help me move on, but as a wise friend said, ‘once you unfriend there’s no going back’. So, we stayed virtually in touch.

Time passed, I realized I really was so much better off without him, Covid struck, both his parents sadly died and clearly with the money he bought a boat. Not a boat that would be allowed anywhere near to Monaco but a boat still.

And yes, you can see where this post is going… The Facebook post today ‘and we’re off – currently crossing the Channel’. I’m smiling again as I write this. I never believed he would or could … its amazing that he has… it shows where there’s a dream there’s a way. Bon Voyage Sam x