Examining Your Motives For Becoming A Helper 4,1.3 Week One

Standard

For the first session of my Counselling Skills class I’ve been asked to identify the motives behind my desire to become a helper…

For me I feel I’m already a helper, all my life family, friends and loved ones seek me out for guidance, support or just to walk their path with them for a while, listening to them make sense of themselves and the world they live in. Now I’m very involved in the spiritual community, as a leader of a growing community, I’m very aware of some individuals looking for guidance from a very vulnerable standpoint. I want to be secure in the fact I’m not causing damage with my support.

So I have a need to care for others but also I want to make an impact with my time in this life.

FEELINGS 

Excitement to start with… Later on with the group I felt the energy in the room to be warm, acceptance of each other was already starting to form. I could feel a lot of relief but I don’t think they were my feelings, I think they were what I felt from other individuals. By the end of the session I was still feeling excitement in the prospect of doing something for myself, something I believe in and something that my skills will suit, with a possible career in mind by the end. I felt a connection with Julie as we worked together. I felt pleasure too when individuals of the group started opening up and expressing their own feelings about the session.

I also felt sadness as Barry was talking about the counselling journey changing who we are as people, reacting differently to situations and people. I feel this past year this Is what I experienced. My grief/bereavement changed my perspective on the world and everything around me. A lot of this was positive change, I’m as stronger person, I know what matters and I’m striving to reach my full potential but because of these changes in me, combined my husband’s reluctance to accept change and lack of respect for my choices I ended the marriage and changed our family unit for ever. I suspect Chris will never accept the changes and hate replaces love for him when he thinks of me now. So this session made me briefly explore my personal sadness and guilt unfortunately.

MY REFLECTIONS

Reflecting on the session tonight…I feel I was already aware of my motivations to join this course, ie my life experiences, my bereavement and my marriage breakdown, so the  ‘The Wounded Healer’ concept and the afore mentioned reasons too. I see I will need to be careful within sessions not to monopolise the talking time or talking over others. Also to be aware of crossing boundaries with touch, and not to write too much.

I’m Back!!!

Standard

001                           002

Well here we are again, who knew I’d find another use for this blog in the future hey?

I’m thinking I need to reintroduce myself ,as the person that wrote the previous blogs doesn’t exist anymore. Well it sure doesn’t feel like they’re me anyway but I didn’t want to delete them as they’re a memory of a much easier period of my life.

Well I’m back, with a totally new use for this wordpress blog. I intend to use it as my online life journal featuring my journey through Counselling Psychology and beyond…

Oh yes!! Mummy went back to school after she had that third child that was previously mentioned in the archives. In hindsight the timing of baby number three didn’t work out quite so well, but the beautiful little human being we decided to create is the apple of my eye even though she’s an absolute little menace. Yep, seriously the naughtiest one by far!!

So in a nutshell peeps I had an amazing 2013, a tiny, beautiful, spirited little girl appeared in my life and the family unit was completed. Unfortunately 2014 came along too quickly and my life pretty much fell apart.

I lost my brother, Matthew, suddenly and unexpectedly in the early hours of August 18th 2014  (coincidentally my new daughter’s 1st birthday). I don’t actually know where to start to express the depths of feeling I experienced over this period of my life, but it’s safe to say I’ve never felt pain like this. I would never see him again. Never, ever and that was an awful feeling that took weeks for me to even make sense of.

I’d made very little effort keeping in touch with Matthew and now the window of opportunity was gone forever. I loved my dear brother but the relationship was far from ideal. Matthew struggled choosing the right people to be in his life, and his choices meant I stayed away. Combined with my husband’s obvious disdain for Matthew, plus a busy family life I often pushed thoughts of visiting Matt into the ‘see him soon box’. Even down to forgetting his 40th birthday in the May of that year… I have no excuses apart from these and no one to blame apart from myself.

Over the past year, I had to work through these feelings of loss, support my bewildered family as best I could from my own grief cloud, oh and pretend that everything was fine for my husband and children’s sake. As feelings of this depth were a struggle in this family unit, I’m really sad to say.

I turned inwards, perhaps some days it wasn’t even obvious that I was changing but I was and there was no choice. Without trying to patronise readers, I have to say without a loss in a similar remit you cannot know how this feels. I’m sure people believe they can but they can’t. I’ve always been a deeply empathetic personality and I pick up peoples’ feelings when engaged in an connective moment with them. But this I had seen but could not even imagine the darkness I later felt…

This turned out to be the start of a transition period for me, change quietly followed despair. It’s where I found the real me breaking out of the me I’d created. I knew I would only be happy again if I took some life lessons from this experience.

Matthew never fulfilled his potential and life was hard for him. His dreams of being a musician in the Army band were dashed early on due to his deafness. (He failed his medical) In today’s education system I imagine he would have received support through school as I do feel he perhaps had a mild learning difficulty. But in his day the support was few and far between. Boredom and being easily led didn’t lead him into the best life and he ended up in a situation of long term unemployment due to a work related injury. I’m not going to delve into his life any further than that, as this is on the internet and I feel that would be disrespectful as Matthew was a private man. He was happy enough when he was deep sea fishing but I’m unsure as to how happy he was generally. This feeling rang warning bells in my own head.

Soul searching started me onto a path of personal analysis, I was in a privileged position unlike Matthew, I’d married young but chosen well. I had a hard working, ambitious, successful husband who loved me dearly and three beautiful children, close extended family and plenty of friends who ‘got me’. Plus a nice enough job with a great team of people.

Again I’m not going to delve to deeply into my personal life as it’s not just my story, but in a nutshell although I loved my husband, I felt my emotional needs weren’t being met. I felt my interests, my sacrifices and me as an individual had little; if any respect in my family unit. There was no room for personal growth, development or change and we were as a couple starting to lack any interests or point of views in common, I felt. There was also an element of me getting more emotional support from other relationships than I did in my marriage.

Rightly or wrongly I ended my fifteen year marriage and my seventeen year relationship in June this year. Incredibly sad and I’m still carrying the raw trauma of this, alongside serious guilt and now an anxiety condition to boot.

Although this is by far the decision with the most difficult consequences/impact on others as well as myself I’ve ever made, not all my personal changes have been negative.

I’ve now got a stunning feminine tattoo to remind myself to be true to me, I’ve got my second driving test coming up in January and I work more and the balance between raising my children and going to work suits me a lot better.

I’m finally doing something I’ve dreamed of for a long time and I have gone back into education. I hope to have a career rather than a job in a few years and I intend to do whatever it takes to get it.

This is my intention behind blogging again. I’m going to use this blog as a counselling psychology student’s online journal and incorporate my study into my spiritual life too.

On that note, Matthew’s death is where my spiritual journey began.

A little exploration and discussion with a friend who was stumbling up a pagan path of his own at the time, a vaguely pagan mother’s influence plus the completely different way I perceived everything around me inevitably lead me to a crossroads in life. Blinding pain slowly turned into acceptance of the power of life, death and all the magic that lies in between.

With this came the birth of my Facebook ‘Free Spirited Soul Tribe Community Group’ with it’s first name ‘Free Spirited Pagan Community Group’. A group for myself and an old friend of mine, to explore in more depth what we were starting to learn about on various other groups.

We wanted a more relaxed group without the conflict we saw in the other ones’, a place to share our interests with like minded people, and to learn in company.

One year later people must have liked the idea, as it’s standing 2000 members strong, with lots of beautiful photography, inspired artwork, plenty of mythology, and a warm friendly place with the balance of a bit of darkness for people to tune into on Facebook. Plus the added bonus of spiritual support and advice in whatever subject matter’s to the individual. (I love this I’ve always been a bit of an agony aunt!)

I started off with a year and a day to explore a new faith, previously I have had a dabble with divination, in the form of tarot cards and I grew up with pagan festivals without being aware of what they really were. So delving into the pagan word felt like I was coming home in a way. A way to focus on something when the rest of the world held no comfort for me anymore.

The wheel of the year looked the best place to start; so starting with the autumn equinox or Mabon to others, I set to exploring each turn in my own way, lots of research and rewriting for my group. I started to feel the energy of nature and the magic of Gaia (our mother Earth) fairly early on and now often you’ll find me turning to her for healing.  Sitting under the stars never fails to relax me no matter how crap my day is… I discovered I felt a pull to the elements and in particular water, which I felt reflected me at that time. I’m fairly balanced but the water element was slightly stronger in me at that point..I still draw energy from being near it, although I’m finding very recently that I seem to feel more like the fire within me has come to the surface. I’m bringing things together in the last few months, I’ve found my strength.

This initial interest, that started with The Wheel Of The Year and The Elements, lead me to exploring astrology also. My natal chart was fascinating and I like to explore other people’s charts too.

Being drawn to the moon cycles fairly quickly pulled me at first into the Wicca realm. I still enjoy lots of aspects about this tangent but it’s no longer the main pull within my faith.

Right from the start, shamanic ideas held a beautiful simplistic truth for me, this particular interest is growing within me. I particularly love the concept of the dream walking and shadow work still now.

The darkness in me is very attracted to some of the fundamental concepts of Lucifernarism . The walking in your own power a particular favourite of mine.

All in all now I identify with only my own path, my interests are too varied to tag myself in anymore so I just say ‘I’m a kooky sort of Pagan’ if asked.

I’m here to eventually help people, with the healing I do best I believe…Which is to listen to you, walk your path with you for a while when it gets lonely, and perhaps help you bring yourself into a good alignment with your spiritual self. Too many of us live with the ego and don’t experience the peace and beauty that being our true self can bring. This is where I’d like to incorporate my study with my spirituality and turn it into a career.

Although I’ve had a lot on my plate this last year, all in all I do feel stronger and more in my own power.

So now the introduction is done I’m going to share my lesson journey on here and then onto my blog page on my website ‘The Free Spirited Soul Tribe Community UK.’  For those interested in either my spirituality, my career path or just me, do check in and have a look about.

Happy reading people, please feel free to communicate with me as much as possible please. I love to hear your feedback.

Kara xxx

Flirty 30’s

Standard
Flirty 30’s

I have to say after browsing the world of facestalk for the third time this morning and seeing a fair few status from classmates depicting turning 30, I thought I’d share my view of life in my 30th year.

First you need to know me as a person before i get on with the topic at hand. I am a little vain,quite self obsessed, if truth be known.  I have had regular weight battles and serious bad skin days. Yup you heard right bad skin days, I have bad skin days as opposed to bad hair days. When you have hair like mine, that is neither curly nor straight,and has a double crown, every day is a bad hair day. I don’t even notice it much if truth be known, so I have bad skin days.

I have spent my school days cursing my thick legs, short stature and small boobs. My teen years wishing I was tall, slender and blond like my then boyf’s idea of perfection and my 20’s on diet and exercise regime’s to melt my post baby curves and turn me into Mila Kunis. As she is brunette and shortish it must be possible right?  Right?

So in fact I’ve decided I really like being 30. My 20’s rushed by,we moved,and moved and moved. Everytime we got a home to our taste it was time to move. It was not a bad time, but it was a busy time. I learnt who I was in my 20’s. I built a relationship with a man I didn’t know, we grew up together and went through some crazy up’s and down’s but learnt to love each other properly. (we still fight and it’s ok) I added two beautiful, unique children to the world and set on my journey of bringing them up and looking after them until they’re ready to set out on their own journey. I made parenting mistakes, learnt how to be a parent and realised what it takes to be a mother.

Physically I’d never thought I made the grade for a good-looking 20-year-old and this was a source of a lot of my discontent, but at 30 I’m feeling a lot less pressure. Crazy really because I actually looked quite acceptable and didn’t make the most of it!  My 30-year-old friends look like 30-year-old friends even the ones with the tightest bodies’ are not really much competition for the 18-25 something girl, anymore. Well at least in the looks department, that the celeb magazine’s value,that is!

It’s ok though. We feel like women. I am a woman. I know me. I can cope with my depressive/anxiety states. I have  the life experience and the mad stories to keep people entertained over a dinner table. That seems to come with age. I have complete sexual confidence. I respect my vagina,it respects me. Most of the time 😉  I have lived abroad (and decided the best place is home ) I have long-term relationships/friendships with some amazing unique people,that have the depth of history made together. My hubby’s parent’s and my parent’s are still young enough to enjoy life along with us, and I’m seeing them as people in their own right not as only an addition to me.

My son and my best friend’s daughter now play in our garden (we have been friend’s since eight years old),with their siblings as we watch on. Precious moment’s I hope I remember for ever. Our friendship goes on.

Yeah my 30’s are going to see a new me. I believe I’m finally starting to develop body confidence which is in no relation to my diet and exercise habits. I’ve earned my mummy tiger stripes literally and I think it’s time for me to wear them with pride rather than hiding my body away, worried that someone will comment. When all said and done, I’m very lucky. I’m healthy, I’m slim enough (bmi is in check,which is how I like it), with a little waist and bloody good boobs (they grew :-D), so who cares about my bingo wings and fat thighs. My friends don’t, my husband doesn’t. I’ve still got a pretty face, with big beautiful eyes and I like to see the age changing my face in the pictures of me and my children (who get bigger and bigger), year by year. I feel a whole person, which sounds mad,but that’s how I feel.

I wonder what I will learn in the next ten years, what will I experience before I’m 40.What could happen next? I love being 30, don’t  you?

Baby number three?

Standard
Baby number three?

Hello all, a while since the last post but after two weeks of thinking i was itching to put it all down again.

So now I am thirty years old and until recently thought that my baby rearing days were behind me. I have been married eleven years and have two children. Leah at ten years old (who was the main reason our wedding came rushing forward, meaning I married at the tender age of 19) and Sam at age five, our should be spoilt young son and the apple of my eye. To cut a very long story short, both children were more me that wanted to have them than my hubby. Leah was a very careless surprise, the best mistake I’ve ever made and Sam I’d wanted since Leah was three but with being posted around in the army, financial and emotional restraints, it took us another five years to be ready for a baby. But last week Chris had a bit of a turnaround,we are hoping to extend our house this year and he thought it would be a nice idea to extend the family after the work is completed. Maybe, perhaps? He’s already telling me off for thinking about it so much but i can’t help it, I’m a deep thinker as we’ve established through the last seven blogs.

So first thought was but I’ve just got my life back!!! Although my job isn’t the best paid job, I’m really happy in what I do. I do my little routines, a bit of computer work, a bit of counting, popping counts on the system and I make sure we know what is where at what time, not brain surgery granted but my job is still important to the retailer, I matter to the team and I love the companionship of my colleagues in ‘retail super giant’ . Three of them I now count as my good friends and the rest are the best bunch of people i’ve ever worked with .So it’s fab to work alongside them everyday and get paid for it. I also love the fact I can now work in the day. I don’t work weekends or evenings and my children are at school so other than the childcare juggling through the school breaks I’m not caring for children and then going out to work on top of that. I’ve had to do this in the past and sorry guys I won’t change my opinion on the fact if you are raising children younger than the age of 5 you’ve already got a full-time job, everything else is extra! My husband is of the opinion that it’s hardly important and as he’s had a very successful couple of years with a promotion and in financial terms it doesn’t matter if I didn’t return to work after maternity leave. But that is another point with my job. The independence it gives me , it’s not lots of money but it’s enough to treat myself and the kids to those little luxuries, that no we don’t need but yes we’d really like, or to treat a friend to a meal or drinks out, or a nice birthday present or help to pay towards our foreign holidays. Although Chris is generous with me I don’t like the idea of talking through every purchase with him. That wore very thin in our younger years.  My job is my little piece of independence in my very dependent world so not returning to work would be I fear for the first time ever non negotiable! So that would mean paying childcare fees for the new little one to enable me to work. Again it sounds like no big deal but it would mean I wouldn’t have much money left over to spend or a big discussion insisting Chris should pay for childcare and he might just prefer to have his wife home to take care of the children. But then that is all temporary anyway as the little one would go to school at some point, so it would revert back to normal eventually. Wouldn’t it?

On the same subject, I’m now finding as the children get older, I’m much freer to enjoy personal pursuits. I can go off for a spa weekend with my friends or stay behind and chill on the sofa when the kids fancy accompanying their dad out and about. I attend zumba and aqua aerobics in the evenings with my mates and I can go out dancing/drinking if I fancy it knowing I can cope the next day a bit hungover. (there’s more babysitters as the children need less care too) A night out loses its glamour a little I find if you know you’re going to be up three times in the night!

The second thought was I really dislike tots and pre schoolers, i honestly save warehouse work for the early morning when the shop is filled to brim with crying, whining, snotty nosed toddlers, they leave me cold!  Although Sam seemed to miss the terrible twos out all together, he was a diamond. Could i face mum and tot’s groups again!!! Would I really have too?

Another thought is the amazing age gap i would have, would the kids really benefit from having each other and i would have spent a long time bringing up children by the time they leave, is that what i really want? By the time Leah is twenty the youngest would only be seven or eight would I be tired of mother hood by then?

Then it crossed my mind I might not be as fertile as I was so it might not happen, that would be ok it would mean that my decision is made for me but it could be disappointing if i was trying then it couldn’t happen. Also I would imagine I am slightly more likely to have a child with abnormalities being in my thirties by the time it could happen. Although I’m a massive believer in what happens is ment to be, there are added issues with having a child with disabilities, isn’t there?

n622346969_2533235_3577Plus the impact it puts on our relationship, both times when our children were small, we faltered, it became so much harder to maintain us among the family. I might be so tired that it impacts our sex life, which makes Chris grumpy and me feel like I’m failing as a wife.  Chris is still as free to come and go as he pleases. He’s never been a guy who would take the mick out of this but a weekend at the football might upset me more if i was unable to be quite so free. With his current job he’s away so much of the time I would need to cope with the sleepless nights alone quite often plus the early start with the school run and even earlier when I went back to work and the child needs to get to childcare.

Then there is the old body image issue, I’m so appallingly sick (I had sixteen weeks of sickness with Leah and thirty weeks with Sammy)  I don’t gain much weight when pregnant but this time would it turn my fairly firm waistline into a sack of jelly, I’ve been lucky with my skin going back to normal once I’ve lost the extra half stone but maybe I’ve pushed my luck as far as it will go. Good god will my vagina still tighten back up again, after three births?  Vain perhaps?  Normal worries definitely 😀

So I’m faced with this massive checklist of why not to do it. Yet when I read it back, I just get pictures of the past, my happiest memories. Meeting my babies when they were preciously new, the thrill of birth, the picture of my grandmother with the tiny baby in her wrinkled arms, seeing my babies when they are asleep and the happiness the children have given me every year when I’ve been planning Christmas day for the last ten years. I remember the kicks of pregnancy, their first words, the first day’s of school. I think of the people who mean most to me aside from Chris and the kids, my parents and my kid sister and I know family is the most precious gift I have in my life. I can already see flashes of the future surrounded by elderly parents, grown up children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and it’s all I can do to wait for tomorrow. A dream or reality, huh?

Motherhood and the less maternal mother.

Standard
Motherhood and the less maternal mother.

I really dislike toddlers and pre schoolers.There i’ve put it in print.As harsh as it looks,it’s still true.

I’ve had my usual friday shift at work at the local ‘retail super giant’ which means i work untill one rather than twelve .It has dragged with a morning full of investigating our stock levels. This is the second day running I’ve concentrated on this task,but as boring as this may have been  (although not as bad as my most hated job of counting the frozen stock *shivers and grimaces*) when the onslaught of the children finishing preschool with their overtired mothers and baby/toddler brothers and sisters arrived,I was left counting my lucky stars to be pottering in my little shop with adult company.

I do have children.I have two of the most opposite children you would ever meet.

Leah who is sometimes refered to as ‘the evil one’ by her father is ten years old.

Leah came into the world already angry at the fact she was here.She was two weeks overdue,with a screwed up face and would scream 80% of the time.She suffered from colic,dairy intolerance and caught some horrible gastric bugs on a recurrent basis.She rolled,sat up,crawled and walked early.I think this was bourne out of sheer frustration rather than ability. When she conquered something she would instantly start whining about the next thing she wanted to do.She had/has the concentration span of a knat and didn’t play with toys for any amount of time until she discovered electronics. The terrible twos started at 18 months for Leah and I suspect never ended as she still jumps up and down screaming at the world, if things don’t go her way.She uses no as her default answer,she revels in pointing out that your arse/tum has got bigger or that you look rough, the only real difference to her tantrums is now she also slams doors and wishes she or you dead as well as the screaming. Its also a much bigger job dragging her to school when she doesn’t want to go,as I discovered last week.( I’m only 5ft nothing,I think she might have realised!) I had Leah in Germany and I found the first few years of her life tramatic.As much as I loved her I found adjusting to being a wife and young mother,as well as being a long way from home and a support network,hard. I remember bus journeys that Leah cried all the way there and all the way back from wherever we went. I remember my hubby and my first adult outing after she was born.A paid babysitter endured three hours of Leah’s night time crying and then phoned us as we were checking out the sweet menu to come home,as she couldn’t bear any more and she knew ‘kids’. On the plus side Leah was always so exhausted from all the screaming she slept through the night at six months.Her personailty is still a strong one.The good thing now though is that she knows right from wrong and being so strong-willed she won’t be persuaded to do anything silly,I hope . Although volatile, she is a very sensible young girl who is very social and makes friends very easily.She’s also got quite a wicked sense of humour when she’s in the right mood and i enjoy her conversation. You might think my daughter may have coloured my view on children but five and a half years later,Sam happened.

Sammy also affectionately known as ‘the mule/muley'( he didn’t look like a Samuel as a newborn so I decided that I’d call him by the second part of his name.I don’t remember why and it just stuck) is approaching five years old. He is a little ray of sunshine.His baby years were a fantastic time.Sam rarely cried and was the most placid baby/lad that you ever would meet.He smiles and laughs easily and is amazed by the world around him.I now had family and friends close by and hubby and myself are a well established couple and old hand parents. I figured Sam must have been sent to me to prove children can be enjoyed rather than endured.He took ages to move, simply because he had absolutely no desire to go ‘over there’ when he was quite happy ‘right here’.His terrible twos went without a mention, although it was around this time he discovered the word no and on the rare occasion he really doesn’t want to do something,he won’t and there’s really nothing you can say or do that will change that.But these were few and far between and when he smiles at you,you’re likely to give in anyway.Sam’s only real defect was quite a large one though,he didn’t sleep through the night until he had turned three years old.When he was a little baby this was an excuse to have a sneaky cuddle with him or he woild just lie there watching his cot mobile quietly but later on,he used it as a good opportunity to do something.Such as the time he got  out of bed and rubbed sudocreme into his new carpet! Or he would absail off his chest of drawers and run up and down the landing for a bit until we put a stair gate on his bedroom door.

There’s definitely no question,I don’t lack maternal instinct with ethier of my children.I love my children but children en masse send shivers down my spine.The exception i have to this is I love newborns for that first six months,they’re awesome.Even crying ones.

Toddlers on the other hand really don’t make any sense to me.They have developed the maximum amount of motor skills but absolutely no common sense.Although i love the tots in my life it’s more for what they were and what they will be then what they are right now. A phase to be endured ;-D I still find it hard to watch my friend’s tot’s rubbing crisps into my sofa,and throwing juice cups around the clean living area.I find it difficult to keep my sense of humour when i watch them get my sons toys out over the floor to merely walk over.I dislike finding fingerprints over the glass and constant cbeebies droning on in the background.

And having more than one over at a time,forget it!! I think nursery workers are underpaid. I’d rather clean toilets for a living.Sam’s 4th birthday was prime example of why.I thought by just having one child over it would be a walk in the park,it may have been If I’d asked a different child perhaps. After an exhaustive three hours of having my fake smile in place,while said child had ordered Sam about,hogged all the toys,shouted, screamed and ran around for no reason,i was done. Once the party tea was over and the candles blown out, he was quickly rushed back home.To be fair to me, by this time my husband had nearly lost his eye from the third time said child had stuck a plastic sword in it and i’d had quite enough,thank you.

I also couldn’t care less about the best pureed food manufacturers,cloth nappies vs disposable’s and I’ve never felt the need to buy a micro scooter for my children to get them ready for the normal kind.I sometimes say swear words in front of my kids and I’m so glad I won’t sing a potty song again for a long time,unless of course I’ve managed to consume one too many jagermeister shots and I’m singing to my own vagina.

If this is not bad enough,the only thing I hate more than small children en masse would have to be  small children en masse with their ridiculous mothers. I am really,really glad to see the end of mum and tots groups.These were the one’s I felt I had to attend for my children’s sake although I’m still not sure if they,in particular the old style ones gave the kids any worthwhile skills at all. We all know the ones, they have the headless dolls,grubby blocks and puzzles with missing bits for the children to play with. So you leave your clean,comfy house to sit in a grubby hall with the precious’ mums,who like to judge you on your lack of breast-feeding ability. To be fair I was shit,three days with the first,i didn’t bother with the second and as time has passed,I no longer feel any guilt,sorry! Although i did manage to push both babies out in under five hours with minimal hospital intervention,so pat on the back for me,huh?

I must admit i did feel secretly vindicated the day my son gave a rather lazy mother’s daughter a smack after she tried to pull a soft block away from him,for the tenth time. I’m not sure my true feelings didn’t show on my face but then again I didn’t really care what said mother  thought. She really should have been watching her own kid rather than letting strangers do it for her, while she was busy preaching ‘they have to learn to share’ all the while sat on her fat arse.It wasn’t sharing really, was it? It was more your child taking whatever was in my childs hands.Not really the same thing!  No wonder Sam lost his temper. There was definitely better client’s at the boogie beats/tumble tots type ones.I think they only attracted the mums that like to move! But I’m still glad they’re all behind me.

So I guess all in all I’m not a perfect mother.Or I have learnt the secret to being a mother. I aim for good enough without losing myself in the process. Surely good enough 100% of the time sure beats being a textbook mum 50% of the time meanwhile verging on a breakdown for the other  50% of the time? Over to you.

Stop calling, stop calling. I don’t wanna think anymore!

Standard
Stop calling, stop calling. I don’t wanna think anymore!

I think I’m probably not your typical woman. For lots of reasons really, but one thing that seems to single me out from the feminine race, day after day, other than my increasing tendency to grow unwanted facial hair, is the fucking telephone. I wonder how many of you hate your phone, as much as I hate mine. I hate the landline phone with a passion, I hate the mobile ringing, I hate your phone ringing, I hate people talking into them in public, I hate stupid ringtones, I hate the Nokia original tune. You name it I hate it.

My daughter has just discovered talking to her mates, after spending whole days with them at school. I’ve watched her wander around the room with the other girl on speaker phone and they are describing what they’re doing at that precise moment for two fucking hours!!! I also get to pay the bill for the privilege.

Now I’m guessing you also hate the phone, when it’s that annoying sod on the line, the one who calls you bang on tea time to try to sell you crap you don’t want, or the arse that insists that you had a loan with ppi that you can claim back . No doubt you also hate the man with the accent you can’t understand. You know the one who is certain you didn’t claim compensation for an accident you definitely had that you definitely didn’t  have!! These phone calls in my house are sorted quite quickly to be fair. I tell them I’m not interested and if they haven’t managed to comprehend that in the time i’ve spent saying it. I simply hang up,if they’re still talking,well I’m afraid that’s tough! I’m far to lazy to be arguing with a hard sell all evening, thank you! They don’t tend to call back. Well not that night at least.

No I hate the phone 99.9% of the time. I work mornings, as you who have been following the blog will be already aware of (other than the Wednesday late one). I finish around lunch time,so it’s a question of grabbing some provisions from work at ‘retail super giant’ and heading back for a whirlwind of cleaning, washing, bed changing, appointments and errand running. Basically everything us full-time mum’s with children have to do. But I squish it into the afternoons. Evening is my time. Not housework time,I have to stick to this or I would end up very depressed! This schedule enables me to have a part-time job too, so we all benefit. I also try to fit in a couple of gym sessions after work if I can and perhaps two catch up coffees with friends a week as well.

It doesn’t seem to matter what order I put these afternoon tasks in.It doesnt matter if I train first, Hoover first or eat first. The minute I get my arse settled on the sofa to eat my sandwich,that little bastard knows and he starts! I notice the minute I put my little one in the bath, it does it too. Ring, ring, bloody ring.

Around tea time it’s on fire. When’s it’s not the call centres. Its my husband. Unless he’s working from home,he rings me daily for lengthy chats. Once, maybe twice a day if something he finds interesting has happened. It doesn’t matter that he’s on the way home,he’ll see me in an hour or I’ve got winging children around my feet. It doesn’t matter I’m cooking the tea, that he will want to eat the minute he gets in or the fact we have guests sat on the sofa. He is still incredibly attached to this time talking on the phone. Talking all the way home from his meetings, on his hands free kit, regardless of the reception he is often getting at the other end. Well unless I tell him something that I find interesting and he doesn’t. He then receives an urgent call that he has to answer, right then.

That leads on to my most hated phone call of all,when the reception is bad!!! How can anyone still want to continue a conversation when you’re listening to ..Llo …you there,bu…li…ta…hello…there. Please hang up. In fact I hang up on these ones regardless of who it is. I then bang the phone in and out of the holder a few times, to release the pent-up frustration I experience on these calls.

Don’t get me wrong if it’s important or I havent seen you for months ring (if I don’t answer I’m caught up but do leave me an answer phone message) or even better text and arrange a visit. I don’t mind talking just not all day and not on that thing. I have so many pointless conversations when I need to be doing other things. Some days I barely seem to have time to wipe my arse and I’m having a conversation on the phone in the middle of sticky floors, dusty surfaces and piles of washing and the other person is asking questions but not listening to the answers. The worst of it is they rang me!!!

There it is. In all its simplicity.I hate the phone.

Womens talk-A weighty issue.

Standard
Womens talk-A weighty issue.

I have a summer holiday in Turkey booked for June,I have vowed to get in shape for it.I’ve got a home gym in the garage made up of various fads I’ve had in the past.There’s a cross trainer that sorted out my baby weight left from having my daughter Leah,there’s the rowing machine i had to shed the baby weight left from my son Sammy,there’s the treadmill i bullied my neighbours mercilessly for a year untill they sold it to me (to be fair they were using it as a bloody clothes horse!!) and there’s the weights trainer that my hubby would tell you he uses,but in reality i can’t remember the last time it had weight put on it .My rather handy hubby has installed a ceiling,IR heating and a wood floor. It’s also Wednesday,and on a Wednesday i was going to visit my gym come hell or high water. Truth is Wednesday is the only day in the week i don’t work in the daytime (I go in at half five to count stuff instead) so it makes sense to do a little exercise on a wednesday.All it takes is that short walk down the path and I’m there.But i’m not,im still here talking to myself!

I  want to wear a bikini on holiday ,not a one piece or a tankini.The one piece costume seems to have a wonderful knack of making my boobs look flatter and my arse look fatter,and the tankini hides the bit of my body that is really quite skinny.(Under my boobs where the bra line stops,in case you were wondering). I really don’t want to wear ethier one poolside. Pool….side, you understand as I don’t get in the pool unless my life depended on it.I hate my hair getting wet,I hate children splashing ,I like being hot,really hot, a hot you never get in this beautiful country we live in,where it rains 99% of the fucking time. I  don’t see the point of cooling down on holiday,if i wanted to stay cool i’d holiday in Cornwall, i go on holiday to get hot.

I want to look great in a bikini without running on my treadmill.Today I don’t want to have to run to nowhere.My bumcheeks don’t want to create their own gravitational force,my stomach muscles don’t want to pull me into another sit up and to be honest i would rather go back to bed.

There it is in a nutshell really,why are things that are good for us so hard? Why do we to try to look a way that most of us will never achieve anyway? Don’t get me wrong,i don’t class myself as fat.I’ve never been obese or morbidly obese, I’m usually somewhere between the upper end of the normal weight Bmi scale or just into the overweight category of the Bmi scale, when I don’t use the gym or I eat what I want to rather than what’s actually good for me. But i feel pressure to look and work towards someone elses ideal.I  think society has to take some blame,i do read the ridiculous magazines that will portray a larger figure to be a figure much like Beyonces.I hate to disagree but she is about eight or nine stone max, she is hardly plus size is she? But i’m intelligent enough to realise those magazines are complete bollocks and i should probably not give the publishers my hard-earned money,(well my earned money at least).

I’m not critical towards other people’s bodies in the slightest,I’ll be the first to point out your amazing bone structure or reply ‘don’t be daft you’re not fat, you’re perfectly in proportion and by god look at that amazing rack’,or when you winge I’ll say how boring it would be if we were all the same but I find it hard to extend the same kindness to myself .I understand and like my personality (we talk for hours ;-D) but I am so critical of my body that houses it!

I’m wondering exactly where it stems from,i had a happy childhood and i can’t remember even worrying about my body shape as a child,i don’t think it was on my radar.Although i did get involved in my first relationship of four years at a very young age,age 14,with a lad who had crippling self-esteem issues so maybe a bit rubbed off on me in my teens.

I also got married young and had my daughter quite young,I was only 19 years old when I fell pregnant with Leah ,and I found it incredibly difficult to cope with the changes pregnancy had made to my figure after she was born,just before my 20th birthday.I had thought baby weight just comes off naturally,in my case, this just isn’t true. So after feeling unhappy for about a year,waiting for it to fall off ,all the while stuffing myself with nahn breads as a tasty brunch snack or family sized chocolate bars as they ‘were cheaper’. I took matters into my own hands and put myself on a strict diet and vigorous exercise regime where i trained in the gym four mornings a week,plus using a cross trainer in the evenings and i used to Rollerblade on a weekend. I also cut out processed foods,starchy white carbs,sweet things,well most foods to be honest,i lived on protein and veg with two squares of dark chocolate as a treat.

I did find the exercise addictive and i think it was a crutch for a rather difficult time of my life too.I loved my daughter unreservedly but I found adjusting to being a young mother and the move to Germany to live with my husband difficult.Within the first two years of Leah’s life ,my mother battled an aggressive breast cancer and my sister was diagnosed with a borderline personality disorder plus manic depression for good measure (bi polar disease) so it was a tough time within our family and quite simply i missed my parents and my sister beyond belief when I couldn’t see them regularly ,as well as adjusting to the fact I was a mother and housewife already at 20.

So back to the weight issue as I’m off on a tangent.I held this figure and lifestyle for about four years .I felt I looked fantastic but it didn’t make me any happier,i was just as up and down as always. It didn’t change any problems in my life.

I found once I’d moved back to the UK, I was able to relax a little,with the input of family and close friends,i became slightly less obsessive with my diet and exercise routine. I gained a little bit of weight and a life.We then made the decision to have another child and Sam left me with a bit of extra weight too.I again sold into the idea of thin is sexy and joined weight watchers,it worked for me I was back to eight stone ish in no time.Problem was I couldn’t hold it off,as soon as I started to eat like a person rather than a mouse I regained it with some more on top.

Right now I’ve managed through not overeating but not dieting and occasional jaunts into my gym, to lose some weight and tone up a bit,but i’m far from eight stone,so here we are right back where I’ve started.I want to wear that bikini for my holiday,did i say? So to gym or not to gym that is the question,isn’t it? Or is it still a question of self esteem?