Middle age – 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 ……………

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?

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.

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?’

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

Covid – not a nice happenstance

Wednesday morning it was raining, the proverbial cat and dogs type, but with a dog that needs walking I had to get dressed for a short walk so he could do ‘his business’ (since when did going to the toilet become ‘doing business?’). I pulled on my jeans, wellies and a thick coat over my pj top and a new blue woolly hat. We headed out, there was flooding by the kerbs, I was very conscious that the dog’s legs are shorter than mine and looked for suitable crossing places so he wouldn’t get wet legs – does this make me a good dog walker (the dog is not mine but my brothers where I’m staying) or make the dog a pampered pooch? He quickly did his business and then turned to home, pulling me at such strength I was almost running. I love walking and had been prepared for a much longer walk but having done in excess of 20000 steps on each of the last couple of days and feeling slightly tired I realized it might be good for me to have an easier day.

I came back and soon got dragged into helping to bathe the dog expecting splashes and protestations I came ready with phone to film the ‘fun’ but he was surprisingly calm and well behaved. He clearly really likes a bath- I’m going to have to lock the bathroom door from now on or I could have company. I then cleaned the bath, had a bath myself and then it began. Out of nowhere I was shivering, shaking and despite adding layer after layer I could not warm up. I got into bed with two hot water bottles and only warmed up four hours later shortly after I’d put my woolly hat back on. With a very slight cough and being told I looked painfully grey, I did a Covid test – it was negative, but I still decided to stay in my room away from everyone else, as whatever this was it wasn’t nice. A day later the PCR result politely informed me, I was positive. I wasn’t expecting this result, I’d convinced myself it was some other bug, but I was not feeling well at all.

I’d been relatively ‘lucky’ so far in Covid terms, my sister had been very poorly, and my daughter had struggled but thankfully neither had needed to be hospitalized. Suddenly, all my plans for the next ten days were thrown up in the air, the appointments I’d made the social dates, my overdue weekend with my daughter cancelled. I acknowledge these are such a non-issue in the scale of Covid’s impact and as I was feeling so ropey that cancelling these (apart from not seeing my daughter) did not really matter. Illness is one of those incredibly grounding experiences, suddenly life is washed of its thrills and its back to pure survival mode – rest, drink, eat and recover.

So far, I’ve spent 5 days in the confines of my room, feeling like an inmate as a knock heralds the arrival of food. Having no energy or focus – I got a paper delivered but it’s too much energy to read it, I lie with the lights on or off, blankets on or off drifting between sleep and wakefulness, slightly delirious at times. At night my mind is trying to solve a rubix like puzzle and it keeps on working, twisting, turning, I want it to stop I want peace – this is painful, I tell my dream it’s not important to me – but it continued. I seem to drift in and out of the same stressful dream most of the night, then I’m out of the street trying to find a hotel which is just round the corner, but I can’t quire remember where, I get anxious and panicky why can’t I remember isn’t this an early sign of Alzheimer’s.

I force myself to switch the light on hoping this will break the cycle, with a half open eye I survey my room – it’s such a mess – tablets, packets, empty cups, creams lotions, unread newspaper, different pieces of clothing strewn across the floor. I guess the room smells – you know that’ sick person smell’ but I am too immersed in it to realise. I wonder if the tablets are creating the weird dreams, I don’t take many analgesics, so I think I’m hypersensitive. I must be coming to as I recognise a proper thought for me – do tidy people’s room get messy where they are ill? (I’m going to check this with a few uber tidy friends).

Rejected by Marks and Spencer

I left my last job exactly four weeks today. In some ways the job seems to be distant memory, I guess ‘checking out’ had started a few months ago, in other ways the four weeks has flown by. This has been the first month of exploration; giving myself permission not to think about work or what next whilst I indulged in a short adventure.

Overall, my working life has been easy in terms of being able to do what I want with limited rejections, but hard in terms of volume. And not thinking about work is very hard. I am someone who has devoted a ridiculous amount of time to work, at times to the detriment of my own health and over work was one contributory factor in my divorce. I have always been driven by a need to do a good job, to be helpful and flexible, to learn about something new and this has translated into regular 50 – 60-hour weeks. When you’re on your own its easy to do silly hours. Work is a constant companion, work ‘is always there for you’.

I’ve tried to trace the origins of my strong work ethic and I think it’s a combination of my mum (sorry dad I can’t credit you with this – other things but not this) and my escapism as a child in a busy house. When things were turbulent in the house – family arguments etc., I would retreat to my bedroom sit by my radiator and either study and or do yoga, this was yoga without the frills basically stretching, and I loved it. Then, as I did well at school, the endorphin shot of a good mark and learning something new would continue to motivate me and so the cycle began.

Moving into adulthood I went to Uni, I wasn’t really sure what to do but knew I wanted to go so I plumped for a general business course as a safe bet. Once there I enquired about moving to Biology (as this had been my favorite subject at school – but on paper I didn’t have the pre-requisite sciences to do it at degree level) unbelievably I was offered a chance to transfer to it. However, at the same time I won the first term award on my business course, and I was swayed by external recognition over personal satisfaction. As my career has progressed I have repeatedly prioritized the needs or feedback from others in my career choices , ‘I could not possibly do the exciting shift role when we had young kids’ – but of course my husband could take a job which was pure adventure requiring totally flexible hours, several people put me off teaching and shop work due to the long hours, and my decisions seem to have been based on what I’m good at and get good feedback in rather than what provides a deep sense of achievement or satisfaction. And even recently when I’ve toyed with doing some part time care work again others have put me off… Mind you I recognise this says as much about me and my inner lack of self-belief, as it does about them.

I know I need to give myself time (and I am fortunate I can now take a short break) to really think more about what might give me that greater satisfaction, to see what presents through happenstance and what will ensure sustainability, which in its simplest form means not working crazy hours at the same time as adding value for others and the environment.

My intention was to get a part time job to bring in some pocket money whilst I ruminate…. and applying for Marks and Spencer seemed an obvious move. So, I filled in the 100-question personality assessment – am I resilient? – big tick, do I prefer structure or freedom at work? My honest answer is freedom, but I thought this is Marks and Spencer, I’m guessing there will be more rules and so the overthinking began. I then moved onto multiple choice scenarios – do I prioritize front of house tidying or checking a new stock delivery? I soon realized this was more complicated than I’d expected. I finished off with a nice covering letter and pressed send… but lo and behold within 10 minutes the dear john arrived.

Did I flunk the scenarios or personality part or both? … I was surprised and slightly disappointed, I was looking forward to the new part time adventure, but most of all I was slightly worried. Imagine if I can’t get another job, imagine if this won’t be as easy as I’d thought. I quickly kicked the thoughts out of my head, something always turns up – it just does, and I have an unending belief in that.

But I did think imagine if applying for Marks and Spencer was your 50^th application, and it’s much harder than you think and with no feedback given I have no idea if it was my personality or the scenarios. There’s nothing for me to learn from or to bring into the next application. For someone who was really struggling with confidence that could be soul destroying. I think all big employers should be made to give feedback to all applicants who request it – try harder Marks and Spencer.

What happened to chapters 1-3?

I am one of those readers who a) has multiple books on the go at the same time (I rarely finish any) and b) who will often flick through a non-fiction book and start reading where it looks most interesting and c) who attends the book club for the social aspect rather than the actual books.

So, calling the blog Chapter 4 seems very natural, but I do recognize for others will require some explanation.

Walking away from all the key blocks of your life – house, location, work at a similar time is either a time for sheer panic, great planning or to ‘see what lands and what happens next’ – and I’ve plumped for the latter. Stepping away, I am asking myself a lot of why’s, what’s, what ifs and probably totally over complicating things. From my musings I have realised that I am at a pivotal point and that if I choose to do so my priorities can significantly change.

This all requires much more work, but in essence my first three chapters were as follows:

Chapter 1 – youth, fun, growth and exploration

Chapter 2 – adulthood, love, my own family and stability

Chapter 3 – survival, adaptation, single parenting, career

Chapter 4 – happenstance and sustainability are my intended guiding principles, but the reality may differ

And I guess that after Chapter 4 there might be two more chapters? -Consolidation and then perhaps endings … but let’s see how this life continues to roll…

Although I’ve always avoided detailed plans, and I am not guided by any religious doctrine, I have often created my own ‘strategy’ or principles for parts of my life. Being a ‘great’ (ironic) overthinker I can talk myself into and out of the same thing within about 60 seconds, so having something to ‘hang’ my life on has helped. When I say ‘helped’ the best analogy is that I’ve placed one of those lovely bentwood hat stands in the hallway of my life so I know where to hang and find my coats. But in practice most of the coats have generally landed in that part of the hallway and few are neatly hung on the stand.

In the past I’ve had dating strategies – aka how to stay sane through the pitfalls of online data, and personal mantras to help guide my decisions.

I’m now entering a new chapter where the children are largely self-reliant and sufficient, where I don’t have to earn so much, wanting a job that makes a real difference and realizing that if I want to fulfil any of those ‘pipedreams’ I’d better get a move on…

I realise that once again I need something to steer my life. Basing Chapter 4 on happenstance and sustainability, whilst potentially conflicting themes, these represent a merger of my past modus operandi with what should, and soon will, be everyone’s major focus. I hope that I can adopt and demonstrate a sustainable way of living which in some way benefits myself, my family and friends and wider community.

Lets start in the middle (few ever said)

So here I am middle aged, and I find myself between jobs, between houses and potentially between lives …
Scary, liberating, confusing, exciting, a myriad of emotions and thoughts, and for someone with an overactive and uber creative mind the opportunities are infinite. Well, perhaps slightly curtailed by my energy levels, and my own, others and society’s perceptions of what a 56 year old single women should / should not do. In practice I find my mind is more adventurous in the mornings when I’m likely to consider catching a plane somewhere on a whim, then by the evening putting on my slippers and pjs and simple home comforts are much more appealing.
I was going to say this was never in my life plan, but I rarely plan, I’ve certainly never had a life plan. I am not sure I ever really considered it, I find thinking too far ahead bizarrely scary and as I’ve aged I’ve realized the true futility of planning as life events are bigger than any SMART plan I may have been advised to make or considered writing. Reflecting though there have been decision points in the last year where I could have opted for another less transformational or less extreme choice, but I chose not to. I’ve lived most of the last year driven by the stress ‘flight’ response, occasionally interspersed by a desire to ‘hide’ deep in the duvets on my bed; against this emotional backdrop I was not well placed for moderated or considered responses. And I suppose even before this year I would occasionally mutter under my breath that I needed a bit more adventure or that I would regret it if I stayed in this well-paying and enjoyable (am I crazy) but exceedingly long hours (I couldn’t continue to work 50- 60 hours) job – until I retired.
But I did not make a conscious plan for so much simultaneous change, and I don’t have a plan yet for a way out.
Feeling stymied by choices and indecision I’ve decided to live this part of my life, which I’m calling Chapter 4 (more to follow) along two principles; one is happenstance (as this has governed most of my life so far) and the other is sustainability (again much more to follow).