an autobiography in 5 parts

I

I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost ... I am helpless. It isn't my fault. It takes me forever to find a way out.

II

I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don't see it. I fall in again. I can't believe I am in the same place. But, it isn't my fault. It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it is there. I still fall in ... it's a habit. My eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately.

IV

I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.

V

I walk down another street.

Portia nelson's lovely poem and somthing I focused on so much for the last few years.  Now I am looking for a new street.  Hope I dont start falling down new holes too.  

you are looking well, you look very refreshed after your break

You are looking well, you look very refreshed after your break.  Oh god why do I just cringe when I hear that.  Yes I do look well , its a pity you cant see into my soul, is how I would like to respond, or sometimes I just want to say thank you but how did you expect me to look.  Or even F**k off you hypocrite, what you would like to say is Jane I thought you would look like a bag lady but you look normal, I bet there is nothing wrong with you, you have been faking it all this time , really you have been secretly off on holidays for 6 months.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Some people cross the street when they see me, either they dont want to speak to me because they are afraid I will unburden myself on them, they dont want to acknowledge the fact that if i can crumble then they can too, they are wrapped up in their lives and I am no longer a part of it.

There are those of course who give me their email address or number or invite me for coffee or lunch , those who unexpectedly show up with flowers and presents, those who show they care by comming up to me and hugging me.

There are those who come up to me and share their story of hurt, abuse or despair because they think I will understand it now.

I was always the same person, but I might not have understood.  I have been all of those people I describe above.

Today I have to deal with some very difficult stuff and I have devised a note to hand people when I cannot speak or understand because I am so overwhelmed.  It says;
I am anxious; when I get anxious I panic.  When I panic I do not understand what you are saying to me.  Can you please write down the most important part of what you are saying and what you need me to understand so that I can refer to it later when I am calm.  Thank you for being patient with me.  I might look fine but really I am too anxious to hear what you are saying to me properly right now.  I wrote this note to help me cope in moments of utter panic, When I am too overwhelmed to speak. Thank you for treating me with kindness and compassion.

I think it is worth a shot.  I look OK. I look like myself , the woman who can do what ever she puts her mind to .  I sound OK , I sound like the profession well educated woman that I am, but oh god how i feel is far from OK.  Do I need to be a crying jibbering idiot, with bad hygiene, weird hair speaking in tongues for people to understand that I am not able to function as well as I look and sound.  I have been struck dumb by the intensity of the confusion I feel some days.  When I can finally articulate what I was feeling many people tell me that is normal and they accept it as part of their life.  for me it is not what I think of as normal.  I had excellent recall, I could juggle chainsaws(metaphor) I could reason and understand.  I did not see the signs that how I saw myself was not really how I felt and I compartmentalised my life so that I could present the well adjusted image of myself to some people and hide the absolute terror I felt.  Joining myself up is proving to me more complex and demanding that I anticipated.  I thought take a few tablets, get some counseling and everything would be as I want it to be.  Be I am not God, I am not the man who runs the world. I am not perfect  I am me, a flawed human being a woman trying to make sense of her world.  I may not be able to ask for help yet but I can hand someone my note and perhaps some of the people I encounter today might be able to understand that under the veneer of calm and control there is a very confused person who is struggling to find her way in a rapidly changing world.  who is struggling to understand what is happening and why.  Who is not superwoman but just Jane an imperfect woman doing the best she knows how, trying to find her way in a very confusing world. 

the little red hen revisited

When I was a child we had a black and white tv, there was not such thing as dvds, computers were what they used to send the men to the moon and records were what I loved to listen to.  My favourite was the story of the little red hen.  I'll do it myself was a real motto for me.  (I suppose as a child hens were an important part of life, my granny had a hen house and hens, her cousin had the most beautiful bantams you could imagine, so exotic looking.)  Anyway we were discussing a problem the other day, my ex, my teenager and me.  I was explaining how the problem could be dealt with and x was saying that it was impossible.  Teenager piped up if anyone can do it mam can.  I listened to this and asked her to expand.  She said she saw other people try to do things and fail and then when I tried I succeeded.  My dad used to say just tell her she cant do it and she will get it done in no time.  I love to undertake challenges of doing things other people would not bother with, I love to challenge myself, but I think that the fun I got from problem solving was nothing compared to the fun of not problem solving.  I have learned how to be the anti-little-red-hen.  Perhaps if I show her that even superwoman  can crash and burn, she will feel that her efforts are hers and that she does not have to live up to the ideal of being a perfect superwoman.  I did not know any children's stories about the joys of being an imperfectionistas a child, the joys of being average, or even the joys of being different but the one I love most that I used to read to my children is Giraffes cant dance.  I thought I could not dance, again not a metaphor, but when I was around 27 I went to two different types of dance  classes, traditional and modern and I found that I was a very passable dancer, I could follow steps but not freestyle.  

My children grew up with the idea that I was superwoman, mother and father to them for a while, so much so that she called me her unbearded father.  I am not superwoman.  I am not the little red hen.  I now have evidence to the contrary of that.  I can finally receive help and just as I am rewriting my life, I can rewrite the story and message of the little red hen.  I am not alone, I can ask for help, there is always someone out there that can help and is willing to do so.  Why was it so hard for so long to ask please can you help me.  the first time I truly understood that phrase was when my polish neighbour, who has not so much English, had no  water at Christmas.  His English was not very good but he was able to say please can you help me perfectly.  It must be one of the most important phrases we can learn in any language.  I can ask where are the toilets in 5 languages as this is the most important phrase I need when travelling and also, where is the train station, but why did I never think of that most important phrase Please can you help me.  
So for all of you out there that dont know how to ask for help here is a selection of the phrase in different languages:
An feider leat caibhru liom le do thoil?
Parsome galite man padeti?
Proze mozesz mi pomoc?
Sil vous plait pouvez-vous me aider?
os gwelwch yn dda allwch chi fy helpu?
Bitte können Sie mir helfen?




Today practice asking for help even when you dont need it just so that you can ask when you do.


Happy Thursday and go off and have yourself a bit of a dance. 

binoculars, wool and crocheting together my life, pat on the back to me

I went to visit my mother for Easter Sunday, my ex-husband (long story) and my two daughters went too, my older brother was there.  It was a very weird day, I must stop saying that , I suppose it was a weird day because I had forgotten what it was to enjoy myself and I was only weird because it was enjoyable.  I found that I could not leave the house in the morning.  I finally had a night alone at home and there was no-one to hunt out the door except myself.  I found I could not muster the energy to leave so I went back to basics.  I went looking for the trail of bread crumbs I had left myself for such events.  I have been taking pictures, buying books, looking up stuff on the Internet, getting advise for many people, professionals, friend and random strangers.  All of those things are there at my disposal I just need to look for the right one for the situation I am in.  Remember to command the muscles, start by wriggling the toes, by commanding the muscles I get out of bed;pat on the back to me.

What is next, manage the blood sugar levels, perhaps it is not anxiety maybe it is low blood sugar, the cure, protein filled breakfast and sugary tea.  That worked; pat on the back to me.  Next the feeling that I am living in a bowl of jelly , that had to go so that I could drive, I bookmarked a load of sites on the Internet surely I thought there is one there that can help me leave the house.  And yes, you guessed it there  was EFT, emotional freedom technique.  I needed to release the bad feeling that had built up during the very stressful fortnight I had experienced, I needed to accept myself so that I was OK to be me.  So I followed the exercise., and again you guessed right , it worked.  Gradually by forming and remembering the habits that helped me get well again, I was able to cope with a potentially very stressful event, an hour long drive with my teenage daughter who was likely to use the hour of captivity(mine as well as hers) to vent her anger, try to part me from my money, get my approval to do all the unhealthy things I was trying to steer her away from.  the day was weird for me because it was perhaps my first day being truly myself with my family.  I enjoyed it.   I came away with the realisation that my life is good.

Transgenerational periwinkles

My childhood was not all bad, although I had recently connected with the parts of it that had confused my inner child.  Yesterday I connected with the many parts that had been good.  As my mother and I sorted through old patterns, oh  god that seems like a metaphor but it is not, we sorted through old dressmaking patterns, wool and fabrics, so that I could do some more crochet and dressmaking.  Currently I am crocheting a blanket for myself for the winter, more a comforter/rug than a blanket.  It is from scraps of wool I had and got gifted to me.  I am now embarking on the crocheting together the left over wool that my mother had kept from all the jumpers and socks and cardigans she knitted over the years.  It was a real exercise in memory to think of all the different fabrics we used to make the clothes.  My mother taught me to sew before I could even write and the skill was passed to her by her mother.  Now it is time to pass it on to my children, even if they do not learn by doing they might learn by watching.  I am crocheting what my teenager called the St Bridget's cloak.  Each day I work on it it grows alarmingly, by combining together wool of different textures and coulors I can blend a blanket of memories and warmth.  I may be a little childlike in my innocence at present but that too will pass and I will grow.

I also left with my dads binoculars.

I have such wonderful memories of looking at ships in the distance through them, jellyfish ahoy!, of sunny days in the summer gazing at beetles in the grass , when I was trusted not to break the binoculars.  My father cared for all his tools and possessions.  He always said to put things back in their right place when you had finished with them and look after all your tools properly by maintaining them and putting them away in their protective cases.  This is again not a metaphor, he was a maintenance fitter and his work was all about maintaining the pumps and fitting of the local waterworks.  His father before him also had the same job.  I suppose the lesson here is; I have the tools.  If I care for them, put them away in the right way when I dont need them, those tools will always be with me and I can pass them down to my children and grandchildren.  Beliefs are transgenarational, so are patterns of behavior but I have been passed on good as well as bad ones.  I was taught how to sew, knit crochet, tend a well, care for tools, cook, garden; all the tools to create a home.  So here I am woman, child, mother, lover, engineer, homemaker, artist, and part time philosopher, talker of psychobabble, writer of depression recovery blogs and haiku.

Happy Easter Monday
So go and find the tools you need to reconnect up all the parts of your life, good and bad.  You will be all the better and richer for it. Today's blog was written while listening to lyric fm , right now they are playing the Easter Parade.  We are all individuals.  So be yourself and have a :-)  Happy happy Easter. 

great expectations

Oh god did I hit a bump.  I feel the need to return to work.  I feel well enough to deal with most of the the normal day to day things, if I plan and manage my energy levels and reactions well.  When I decided that I would plan on a return to work it was as if I opened the flood gates of fear and trepidation.  The feelings of dread that I associated with work started to return.  The stomach churning what will go wrong today.  The who will give out to me, what ambush is there, how will I get my teenager up in the morning.  How can I live through the verbal abuse of each morning.  Will I arrive drained into work as I used to only to be greeted by a barrage of complaints and an endless flow of people clamoring for my attention.  Had I learned nothing from all this??????
I have learned lots.  I just need to apply the lessons to the world of work.  What did I do to get me to this happy place and how can I stay there.  How do I stay with myself and be healthy.  How do I transpose the lovely routine I have developed for myself into a similar one for work.  I Like to start the day with breakfast and music.  I like to take the time to greet the day with love.  I like to listen to the radio, to uplifting things and happy music, I love colour, I love to cook nice food for myself, I like to have a place to relax when I come in , a nice cup of peppermint tea, some fruit, a walk, take some photos create something nice, light an oil burner.  I used to wonder how one of my colleagues managed to listen to opera and have scented oils in her office.  It seemed so indulgent. now I realise it was a necessary part of her life, so why not do it at work too.  Look at Mick Wallace.  His pink shirts and huge debts.  He seems at odds with the world of how things have always been done.  His fresh eyes can give us all guidance on how we can look at our worlds afresh and not just do what has always been done just because it was done in that way.  I think it is time to realistically look at the things that cause me stress in the work place and in my life.  Just keeping going is not enough for me anymore. I want to live the life I have lived for the last month, one where I plan ahead, where I have dreams and expectations, one where I see beauty and have fun, one where I connect with people.  I no longer want to conform to my idea of the expectations of others.  What ever their expectations are I cannot know unless they tell me.  So no more second guessing anyone.  No more second guessing myself.  I have choices.  I can ask them what their expectations are.  I can listen to what they ask me.  I can ask them to repeat things if I am unsure.  I can tell people my expectations and if people judge them to be unreasonable I can check with someone I trust.

the joys of jellyfishing

Now that I can listen to myself I am ready to listen to others.
Happy Friday

symbiosis or co-dependency ; the search for completeness

As I left the doctors the other day with my daughter she commented how handy it was that the chemist is so close to the doctors and as I explained what symbiosis was to my daughter I started to think about how it differs from co-dependency.  Lichens are the classic biological example of symbiosis but when does symbiosis cross the line into co-dependency.  To the best of my recollection symbiosis is when two organisms coexist and each one contributes to the well being of the other; mutual benefits.  Co-dependency is a relationship in which that benefit is replaced by dependency.  Perhaps what at first seemed like the perfect balancing of our flaws by the strengths of another and vica versa in what seems a symbiotic relationship is in fact codependency.  Perhaps it was my inability to distinguish codependency from symbiosis that has scared me.  In symbiosis each organism must exist in its own right.  Each person must compliment the other not seek to complete the other.   I shall aim for one and one making two rather than a half and a half making one.  I am no longer looking for the other half of me.  I am whole.  

Happy Friday 

what i saw on the road to recovery

The first snow of winter

More winter snow , a rare sight here.

The most amazing carbonara sauce cooked by a 10 year old

Bubbles created by several organic bubble machines.

young love and an origami elephant

Something very strange at the Viceral exhibition

A swing

 Is it just me of does that look like eyes?

Eyes and a mouth?

wierd monster face or tree?

Adam and eve are in there somewhere, Why did he blame eve????

i could not live up to the expectation of my curtains

My curtains are gone,

I gave them away,

For days I looked longingly at them

They hung in the shop

silently calling to me

"See how beautiful we are

So pale and beautiful

WE will make you feel good

We will cure your ills

we Will match your stuff, dont

WE look like we will€€€€"

But they didn't

They made me feel bad

I could not live up to the expectations of my curtains

I tried; I    t r i e d    t o 

I searched for colours to make them

happy, for other shades of grey,

not the black and white I 

had to offer them

They wanted more

They knew what they wanted

I did not

but one day, i not longer wanted 

to please my gloomy and 

demanding curtains.

they cast their spell on another

Now they reside there

casting their spell on another

now they reside there 

casting their malevolent jellyfishey 

stings of faux-beauty

there.  But in that house there is a small boy and a dog.

Strength and love in the bond.

those haughty curtains

will be put in their place by 

the repeated pawing of grubby feet and hands by 

the barking and climbing upon by the boy

and the dog.  their haughtiness ignored and disregarded

So my dear haughty ones

you Scorned my tender ministrations

you Scorned my black and whiteness

you Scorned my efforts

But i, the Scorned one,

has now cast you out

begone you vile evil curtains

Glare down from your high moral ground at me 

no more

Now when I visit you

I might come say hi, you might still

Scorn me. Eventually you will

learn to live with Jacks 

earth shattering bark and 

Johnnys loving hugs. you will become what you

are, pieces of fabric

with no soul you are just

curtains and once more i 

am free

This poem is best enjoyed eating chilli listening to Doc Watsons , blues stay away from me, sung by the notting hill billies lying on a bright red rug in the sunshine without grey cream and black striped curtains.  That is a well know cure for Mondays. Happy Monday .