Farewell Son – Uni is calling!

Dear Son,

My final entry in your diary. A diary I started when you were a baby with the morbid intention of being able to share stories with you if I was ever not around. So to hand it over to you today means we made it!

I have so much that I want to share with you, but I find it hard to gush emotions, and you find it hard to accept them. I guess instead we have bonded over our shared love for music, life and travel and those things have dominated our conversations and time together. But there are feelings, emotions and stories I wish to share with you now, incase we never get an opportunity to pour it again. I thought a letter might be the easiest way to have that conversation with you 😉

I have been mulling over your entire existence for the last few months, preparing for this moment to wave you off to your next chapter. And by existence, I even mean prior to your being, when you were just an idea in a young girl’s mind. The idea of me being a mum, having a son.

I will be honest. I wanted a girl more than I wanted a boy. And so I was so glad that my first baby was a girl. But when we started trying for you, I begged to a god I don’t believe in, that you would be a boy. And so the picture of me pointing at you in your crib in the hospital with the hugest smile on my face is pure glee. I couldn’t believe I had been so lucky. Your birth was so different to your older sister’s too. Whilst hers was painful and full of drama, you arrived with ease whilst Dad and I laughed away the hours together. It was beautiful and I adore the memory of it. It was that memory that made me want another baby so bad – I wanted to feel the elation that I felt in that moment having bought you into this world.

You were the easiest baby in the world (well easier than your drama queen sisters). You existed in those early days the way you still exist now. In your bubble, demanding very little (well before your love for clothes began to grow anyway). You were so happy to lay in my arms and ‘just be’, and I still think this is you now. For Art Bomb I wrote a poem about ‘Just be’. The notion that we as human beings are no longer happy with ‘just existing’ – we have complicated it and now feel that ‘Just being’ makes us a failure and I am convinced this is probably the root cause of society’s unhappiness. We are after all the only species who strive for more. The idea of ‘just being’ came from you. The fact that I don’t think that I have ever heard you say you are bored, or life isn’t good enough. An anxiety that hampers my life and mental health no end sadly. I am glad that you haven’t inherited that trait and I am always, always in awe of your approach to your daily grind. I hope you never lose that about yourself.

I love to hear Dad talk about your baby days, I watch his face light up with memories of you. He always tells the same story: going into your silent room in a morning, and your smile beaming back when you caught sight of him. Your legs and arms flapping frantically as you tried to control your excitement to see him. He isn’t a baby person, but you weren’t your typical baby and he was like a moth to a flame with you. He would barely put his work bag down before he would swipe you up in his arms. Not that you would have minded if he didn’t – your bubble and own company was enough for you.

I loved the simple days we spent together more than anything else. Mainly because those were the days you loved best. When I didn’t drag you out of your cave on a carefully scheduled mission. Playing board games, watching movies, doing crafts, playing in the pool and reading to you in bed. I can’t tell you what I would give to go back to those days. At the time I guess I was just getting through, waiting to have money to take you out, waiting for the long awaited holiday to arrive, or for an exciting event or party to occur. But now I realise that those were the exciting events, those were the days I would long for the most.

One of the things that I loved about your childhood (that your younger sister has really missed out on) is your relationship with your big sister. As we get older things change, good and bad. But I hope that you hark back to growing up and remember the deep bond you both shared. It was like raising twins. You adored the ground she walked on. You would wander around silently behind her as she bounded her way through life, sprinkling sparkles as she went. In awe you would never be more than a few steps behind her, just observing her ‘being’. Between you both, you have a catalogue of experiences and memories together that I look forward to your reliving in your agedness in your rocking chairs as your life begins to close too. I can’t imagine having raised either one of you without each other. You were the perfect duo and I hope that time or distance never changes it.

As you had no choice but to come out of your bubble, I loved watching your personality grow. There was nothing you weren’t good at: you are intelligent, talented, articulate and most importantly you were kind. Other than being reluctant to leave your room (and being a total lazy scrubber), you have bounded through your childhood without bringing an ounce of worry or angst to our door. Maybe you left that to your big sister and thought we had endured enough 😉. I don’t think there are many parents that could say that. And whilst we have had many arguments, none of them were ever of any importance.  I have lost count of the conversations I have had with friends and strangers about what an amazing human you are and I could fill a novel with stories of your grandeur – but in true you style – I am not sure you would care to listen (even though I am writing this letter, I know it is more for me than you as I don’t think you will care for it lol – but I have things I need to say). But I have to share one that just about sums you up. I remember after you achieved Level 6 in your Sats and your best friend achieved 3’s. I remember you running into the playground to tell me your exciting news. He followed behind and grabbed your arm to tell you his result, he wasn’t sure whether to be happy or not – he was looking for your reassurance. And even at 10 years old, you read him and the situation perfectly. You congratulated him as he asked what you had got. You folded your paper quickly and shoved in your pocket and told him you couldn’t remember what you got whilst drawing his attention to the sweets I had bought for picking you both up. I had to catch my breath that day on the playground. I am proud of your intelligence and in awe of your talent – but I am humbled by your kindness. It is by far my most favourite thing about you, just like Dad’s memories of your early mornings. That and your primary maths teacher writing to me to tell me that you were ‘One of life’s great Jewels’ and that ‘She could take you home, although she would have to beat you often’ – Something I greatly resonated with 😉 .  These comments about you were gifted so often, it become normal and I guess you created a pedestal that you had to work hard to ensure you didn’t fall from. I know that our expectations of you were high, and that must have been tricky at times, not that you ever expressed it – but in true Taylor style – you just got your head down and got on with it.

This will sound strange, but I remember your voice. So different from the manly huskiness now at 18, but your, still husky, little voice that always sounded excited. You always spoke with emotion, and that emotion was always excitedness. I love to watch videos of you back, just to remember that excited little boy. Sadness is not an emotion you express socially. I have no doubt you feel it. That is perhaps one of the things that make me the saddest about you. The braveness you portray, regardless of any fear or angst that you have ever felt. I can count on one hand the times I have seen you in meltdown. I wish I had done more to try to break that down for you, but becoming a parent is easy, it is a physical interaction that anybody and everybody can do. But it doesn’t make you an expert and as the clique saying goes – you didn’t come with a manual and I just didn’t know how to do it. I think you have found your person to confide in, in Summer. I know you are completely comfortable in her presence to be ‘you’. And I know you make her feel the same in return. You are a complete gift to each other. I remember watching you both together in Dorset and saying to Dad, that my favourite thing about your relationship with your girlfriend is how you both get to be yourself. I can tell you at 17, I most definitely did not feel confident to be myself around partners, so to watch you accept each other in your whole completeness relaxed my fears for your future right there and then. I can’t remember the moment (I am losing my memory in my agedness) but it was something about you wearing socks with sandals I think lol.

Becoming a big brother wasn’t something you wanted but you have filled those boots and created what can only be described as an Iconic Status for yourself in her life. It is fair to say that you are her favourite human in the world, and she idolises you. It is not hard to see why. You are a break dancing, music making, politic meddling, intellectual genius – who seemingly glides through life and its challenges. She has never seen you in trouble, upset or find a hurdle that you can’t overcome. What else could you ask for in a big brother. Like your relationship with your big sister, I hope that you take your position in her life seriously and know just how much she needs you (as they both do). Moving away means that relationships that previously just ‘existed’ have to be nurtured, so make sure you reach out to her often and be a presence in her life, not a memory.

So today has arrived and you are fleeing the nest and of course I am sobbing my eyes out writing this as Dad sits next to me writing his final diary entry too. I can’t tell you how excited I am that you have been the first in my immediate family’s legacy to do this (I know you will graduate so might as well say it now). And yes of course, I wanted this for you so bad. I wanted it for myself, but it wasn’t to be, and so for all of you,  I want you to make it where I never did. Not because I want you to live my life but just because I want you to have the best experience in this one and only life that you can get. I want you to make the most of it, I want it to be easy, I want you to be happy. And … ultimately I want you to be as young and carefree for as long as possible – and Uni will allow you to do that. Growing up seems fun, but it is mostly hard work if I am to be honest with you, so I am keen to encourage you to avoid for as long as humanly possible.

But as well as being excited, I am also heartbroken that mine and your immediate journey has come to an end. Far quicker than I could have ever realised (said every mother ever). Of course I am still your mother and you are still my son, but you don’t need me in the way that you did in those mornings where I plucked you from your cot. And that, I will tell you, breaks me. I know you don’t think I am an emotional person. I wasn’t raised with an abundance of love and affection and sadly that has meant that I struggle to demonstrate it, but I can assure you that I feel it through every second of time and every movement of my body. I can’t bear to think of the silence that pervades the house when you are not here. I will strangely miss your array of profanities being screamed through the house whilst gaming and your room being stacked with manky plates. A few nights ago, in the early hours of the morning you woke me with such said activities, I went to jump up to shout at you and stopped at the end of my bed instead to listen. I have learnt now about ‘the little important things’ and I knew that the times I would have to listen to the madness coming from your bedroom were running out. So instead I listened .. listened and cried, because I knew it was over. I know you will pissing yourself at this point and who can blame you. But one day you will be a father and then you will get it.

The thing about parenthood/motherhood Taylor is this. I have built my entire life around you three. You have been my soul mates, best friends, worst enemies and most of all companions through the good and the bad. And then one day that friendship is plucked away and repurposed. You find your own life, your own companion and I get to watch from the sidelines – proudly of course, but it is still a strange painful notion I guess. Whilst perfectly normal – I can tell you that to a mother waving her only son farewell, it seems anything but normal. It feels like you are being stolen and that you are leaving me behind. I have definitely struggled over this last 18 mths of my new role in your life. I have missed our movie nights on the sofa, our one to one time having dinner at relish, our long chats about ‘what makes the colour green green – and how do we know we all see the same’.  And whilst I have desperately tried to claw it back in a refusal to accept your impending adult hood – the day has arrived and I can longer deny it. And as such I concede defeat. And today after my sobbing I promise to pull my sorry self together and focus on my new loft goblin 😉

But please promise me this. Visit often, and don’t forget about us. Come and swear in your room and slate my dinners and fridge arrangements, argue with your sisters and tell me how non maternal I am. Because again, those of the things that strangely I will miss the most.

Anyway son this novel could have been summed up in a couple of sentences I know. But I really wanted to dwell and so allow me that at least. So in summary  – I am ridiculously proud of you, I have loved raising you, and I will miss you terribly.

And now for my advice for the future to close this book on. Normally, as I do to my students, I would go into lecture mode and tell you to take life by the horns, enjoy every second, don’t take it too seriously, have fun, be kind, work hard and play even harder. I would throw in the clique about ‘the world being your oyster’ too of course. But son, you have lived and breathed this mantra your entire life, without exception. So I have just three words of advice for you going forward, to Uni, to leaving home, to adulthood…………………. ‘Go do you’

Son I love you more than the breath in my body, good luck! I love you! Love Mum xxxxxxxxxx

P.s please don’t die in the river xxxxxx

The Inevitable Return

I will be sad when the world returns

When I can no longer feed and nourish my soul

The bird song is so loud and the pace is a bearable one.

The balancing act of food and exercise

And the stretch of the aching body on the yoga mat

The hunching on the edge of the sofa with the laptop balanced is taking its toll.

Listening, learning and thinking

Shaping the emancipation 

Admittedly the children live in their rooms

But they are here, safe, silent, not interacting – but here – safe and present in a menial way

I like milling ..  and pondering … and those that I love the most being in such close proximity

As I bumble along with my day

I will miss them,

And the bird song, and the time to lavish upon myself

I thought I loved the rush, the fullness, the bustle

But it seems I like the sounds of nature,

The pottering and them ….

Most of all …. I like them.

It’s Time …..

I can’t shake the sadness

Of the strangulation of time

It creeps around my lungs

As my mind frantically searches for memories

Do I have enough? Why are they so vague?

We haven’t had enough time!

You don’t stride away confidently

You are as unready as I am

Fearful of the unknown

Whilst surrounded by those that are so assured

With age you are finding fear

Like a choking smoke screen

Blurring the beauty of the world in front of you

Trust me as I push you into the fog

Into the allurement of the haze

For it is as wondrous as you deserve

Explore without fear

For I am here, standing on the outside

Holding your angst and trepidation

Tread carefully but firmly

Open your eyes to all that you may see

And feel your heart filling

Your soul thriving

And your spirit flourishing

Trust in me

As I believe in you

Finally, I choose to Love Myself!

Ageing is viewed as a negative part of life in our western society. So much so that we are taught to hate ourselves for getting older. We hate the lines that appear at the side of our ages, be repulsed by the sagging of our skin and disappointed that the best of us that has left behind. This isn’t an Angela thing – it is so inground in our society that we dread it and take extreme measures to combat it. Well many of us do …. But not me. Not because I am adverse to borrowing a little help to defy the ageing process – but because I have an anxiety disorder that tells me that I will definitely be the one who ends up looking like a puffa fish when I have opted for a little lift. So instead I chose the option that many of us do – I chose to hate myself! I chose to begin to cover up more, go out less, take fewer photos and accept my place in life that I am no longer attractive, and I no longer have a right to be happy with myself aesthetically.

I was ok with this. After all, I am not young – I have had my time, I am nearly the end of my 30’s and as a result it is somewhat uncouth to flaunt your good looks anyway – right? The problem with this acceptance – is that I cared less and therefore I sunk even further into the pit of self-loathing that I ever thought possible.

I stopped weighing myself, it didn’t matter how much I weighed now – did it? This resulted in a large rise of weight of about 2 stones in 2 years (ridiculously unhealthy for anyone). I no longer wore make up (surely that would just look like was trying to look attractive – and the last thing I wanted was somebody looking at me anyway). I stopped buying new clothes – I knew that there was no attire on this planet that could cover up the mess that I had become and so I decided not to try. And of course, I was in a permanent eternal winter, where shaving was un—necessary, there was definitely nobody I would allow near and my clothes would keep it out of view anyway.

And of course, I stopped having sex! This definitely needs a paragraph of its own. Maybe it is harder for the men reading this to understand than it will be for the women to understand – but sex for most women is psychological. Not only do you need to have feelings for that person (or maybe a connection at the least), but you need to have feelings for yourself too. I feel sad to admit at times, that I felt that my husband was taking pity on me, or simply fulfilling his physical desire to have sex. I truly couldn’t imagine how he could feel any different. I wanted sex to be basic and over quickly, so that I wouldn’t have to feel his hands trace my curves, or imagine the thoughts of repulsion circling his head.

And it wasn’t just about things that I didn’t do. It was much more about my feelings towards myself. And Jesus, were those unhealthy! And I must say, upon reflection, that I feel so sorry for that woman. A woman who felt so disgusted in the vehicle that she was carrying her through life, that she decided to physically hide it from view and constantly bully and intimidate it with reminders of how worthless and disgusting she was.  Whilst there will always be people that cast these aspergions to you, surely the one person who should always love you …. is you!

So what goes wrong, when you suddenly realise how much you hate yourself.  Well that bit was easy, I threw myself into things I did like about my life, my family and my work primarily. And the distraction was so welcomed that it became obsessional. I immersed myself in things that I could control, because it was so much easier than the things that I felt I couldn’t control.  I couldn’t speed back up my metabolism, the more I dieted the fatter I got, my bones had begin to ache and exercise seemed like something that was way beyond my capability (despite sadly being only 39!!). The more I worked, the less I looked after myself, and the more I isolated myself from relationships. Not just my marriage, but my friendships too. Because friendships meant nights out, outfits, photos!!! That had all become so uncomfortable that I would do anything to avoid it.

The realisation that I had hit this point in my life, did not come on my decline, but only at my rock bottom (or maybe my husband will say at the purchase of my large pants). Some sensibility kicked in that I had not managed to grasp before. I felt sorry for me, I felt cruel and I wanted to fix myself, I realised that I didn’t deserve the constant humiliating, the shrouding, the refusal to allow myself to dare to even respect my new self. And that, quite possibly, nobody found my being as repulsive as I found myself. I’m an educator, and something that I reminded myself was – if you tell somebody something enough, they will believe it. I allowed that dress size, those pounds on the scales and my rolls of flab to tell me that I was a lesser being in society. And I truly, truly believed it. It was clearly time to practise what I preached. It was time to love myself, forgetting what other people may or may not have thought and just to see what would happen. Like I had with so many young minds under my wing.

And , the process has begun. I have taken myself back to my hairdressers, tamed the leg hair, bought some new clothes, and whilst putting make up on initially seems like an effort – I can’t believe how different it made me feel (once I had moved beyond the ‘feeling like a transvestite stage’ of course. I have used some of my time to ease myself into exercise through Yoga (maybe that bit is a middle-aged thing – considering I have given up the pole) and I aim to build back up into a good exercise routine. I aim to go back to caring about what I pull on in a morning, ensure my hair is brushed and to lavish my skin with crème if it is needed. And as for sex, well maybe I need to work on me before I can work on anybody else – and maybe that is ok.

But it is important that you understand that I didn’t wake up with a cure. I woke up with a realisation – the realisation that I didn’t deserve to be hated …. Definitely not by myself.

Reflections on a Metamorphosis – The NYE conversation many of us need – but nobody wants to have.

When it comes to NYE, it is almost like you have to pick sides. You are either ready to take on the world with a metaphorical steel baton or you are sticking your – again ‘metaphorical’ heels in the ground and declaring to the world that you are quite obviously ridiculously satisfied with your life, and therefore will not be changing a god damn thing. And nope – this blog is not a declaration that I am ‘Ms Sit on the Fence’ and will charge ahead steely, taking no prisoners whilst conquering my to do lists in a vain attempt to become ‘Ms Perfection’ herself, but am also obviously outwardly desperate for you all to know, that I am eternally grateful for all that life has given, and I am only having resolutions because I am driven, and not because I need to change.
Nope! This post is none of that drivelly shit! Instead I wanted to blog about the realness of the years that have washed over me and the fluidity of the feelings for the impending year. So, if you aren’t into the deep analysis of the human psyche, a sprinkling of wallowing, penned with raw excitement about a life we have yet to live, then this post won’t be for you. And I am sure that facebook can fill the gap in your life with some of the previously mentioned stereotyped posts. Here goes therefore, my New Year’s musings of which, not being a psychologist, I can only base on my own learnings of the last few years.
I’m definitely either a schizophrenic or I have bipolar. I don’t use these terms loosely, I mean it, and no, this isn’t one of my comedic posts that you are more used to! I am not feeling that kind of vibe today, at least my soul isn’t. Within seconds I can go from feeling like I am riding on Beyonce’s yacht to feeling like there is no point in getting out of bed today – as nothing can come of it. I’m hoping that at least one of you resonate with that? But one thing 2019 has bought me is the peace and serenity to understand that my unstable demeanour is ridiculously common, and ‘rock bottom’ is not the end of the road.
It is of course a torturous darkness that ¬has the capability to keep you entrapped for an infinite amount of time. A darkness that keeps you isolated, admittedly from those that seek to do you harm, but also from the people that possess the power to guide you more quickly from the murky depths. It starves you of emotion and of life. Not just your life, but perhaps those around you too, if you are lucky enough to have people around you whose life halts during your enslavement in the hole of despair.
Before I myself hit these murky depths, I saved a quote on my phone “Life can be amazing, and then it can be awful, and back to amazing again”. I love it, but I can’t say I got it – I wanted to though. But on the dawn of this new year, I can say I not only get it – but I feel it! I have spent my whole life avoiding the pitfalls, or at best, pretending that they weren’t happening. Avoiding relationships, running away from difficult situations, walking the safe path – all in order to avoid the pain and heartbreak that it ‘could’ bring. I actually got better at this as I got older, and I saw that as maturity, and getting better at the complexities of ‘life’. But only now, (whilst I hate to say this) in my middle age, that I realise, I wasn’t avoiding the pitfalls, I was actually avoiding life! And I can’t say that is not a bitter thought.
And if I hadn’t hit the ‘rock bottom’ mentioned earlier, I imagine I would still be smugly avoiding negative vibes, naïvely thinking I had it all figured! But it was in the raw, painful, messy abyss of the dark sadness that I realised I was still breathing. Albeit this breathing was shallow, quickened and painful – but I was breathing all the same. There wasn’t much else I realised at the time – that was to come later – but the other thing I did realise is that when the only positive element you can find about your existence is that you can still breathe, you are truly laid in the foundations of the nothingness. The pragmatic thing about being at base level – things can’t get any worse.
So all there is to do now, is to navigate your way back to the top, ok maybe middle, well for now, let’s just settle for head above the water. This process (and it is one hell of a process) is not quick, it is a complex, tangled and torturous affair. And whilst loving hands can soothe and guide you to the surface, there isn’t really an action plan that can be followed, there is no one size fits all. But what there is, is a labyrinth of lessons (without David Bowie in leggings more is the pity). I’m not convinced that these lessons can be learnt many places, but being laid on the foundations of life is one of them. And I’m not exaggerating when I say, that these are perhaps the most valuable lessons that a human can learn, especially one in such despair.
What are these lessons I hold in such high regard? Well, I would probably call it something really cringey like – The Awakening! Except I won’t, because that simply reminds me of the Jehovah’s Witness books that they regularly stuff through my door. But you get the concept – right? When everything stops around you (or at least you are too broken to take in the happenings) you begin to notice the tiny things that you were too preoccupied to notice before. Like the bird at the feeder, the taste of food, the way your daughter’s eyes glow when she gets excited, the sensation of a hug. The truth is, these aren’t ‘tiny’ things – they are the most significant, consequential moments of a person’s life. And whilst the pain you are enduring is destroying you, you become grateful that you can actually feel something again – even if that is pain. Because the depressing truth is, you couldn’t feel a damn thing for so long. Only when every emotion is stripped from us, do we realise how even pain is comforting – the ability to feel. The tragedy is, most of us only realise these two nuggets of wisdom, when it is far too late. The gift of the darkness? You have the time and the anguish to finally learn it.
Whilst becoming so emotionless has its bonuses, you are however, undoubtably being robbed of the best thing about being human – feeling. Strangely enough, any feeling is good – I don’t know why this is? Some of my most favourite memories are crying into my pillow after being dumped by a spotty, greasy teenager. Don’t get me wrong – I also loved the feeling of brimming with emotion whilst watching a magical Disney parade on Xmas day, snuggled up in my scarf whilst clinging to my beautiful children, guarded by my attentive husband. But none the less, it is undeniable that all emotion is important. Surely it is the only reason I had ‘The Fray’ on repeat for a good 6 months.
Despite the negative description of my experiences deep in my darkness, the point of these ramblings are not to dwell of the painful memories of days unable to leave the sofa, or the irrational tears when my phone would randomly ring – but instead to share the metamorphosis that can evolve the ‘broken you’.
I struggle to do nothing: along with the bi-polar, it is probably fair to assume I have ADHD (I’m playing all the cards today). Relaxing is definitely not something I do – and controversially so – not something I want to do either. I like to be busy and feel ridiculously useless if I stop! My therapist has her thoughts behind why this is, she thinks I am still avoiding thinking and feeling by making myself so busy that I don’t have to do indulge myself in something that could irregulate my heart beat – if only for a second. But when you are encompassed by the fog – it is pretty impossible to function (as I am sure many of you know). Any energy you had is sucked from your sinking body, your ability to make sense of the ever-pervading circling thoughts, dissipated! Without permission, your bodywork ceases, your brain halts. I suppose you have to consider if the darkness is an infliction of abuse and torment or if it is indeed simply nature’s way of taking you back under its wing. Forcing you to think, feel – as distressing as that may be at the time – maybe it is the only way to deliver us into the life we are refusing to live.
So, when you arrive gasping at the surface, sure you have had a hell of a shitty time. But as you climb out of the water, that is when you got to be part of your new world. The world you are so ridiculously grateful to be part of, the one that you are finally excited about. And I don’t mean because you have convinced yourself that you are going to be a millionaire after 6 months of selling Avon, I mean because you don’t just get it – you feel it! And by ‘it’ – I mean everything!
Of course, this means therefore, that everything there forth is beyond the concept of wondrous! Doesn’t it? Hell no! But what I believe it does mean, is that you can live every day like you are on a journey, not a commute. You are not on your way anywhere, you are ‘existing’ in that moment. And that isn’t a negative term. You are god damn lucky to ‘exist’, as mundane as that may sound, because one day – you won’t! And chances are, on the day you cease to be, you will have that awakening, if you haven’t been lucky enough to have it already – except you won’t have time left to ‘feel’ it.
There will be downs – at times, more than ups, but tread the labyrinth as slowly and carefully as your body and mind will allow, take the opportunity to guilt free, re visit the beauty of all elements of your extraordinary life. ‘Your’ life! For you to mould, for you to create – for you to live! Whatever that shape resembles – go make it!
So resolutions then? Is the paramount promise to yourself really to go to the gym? Or to watch an extra hour of Netflix? (although I can’t argue with the temptation of the latter). Or can it just be so much more simple than that? Can you promise yourself to be awake? To be Happy? To be grateful? I don’t say it because it is easy – looking around at society, it is clearly the hardest resolution you could ever try to keep. But every day is a new beginning, and with it brings a chance for us to at least take a moment of simplistic happiness for ourselves. Is that really too much to ask?
So me? I will grab some more sunsets, I will enjoy a coffee without my laptop in tow, I will listen ‘properly’ to my children when they speak, and I will lay on my bed alone just listening to music. And I won’t feel guilty because I am looking after me. I will except that I am important and not a second fiddle to any other human in my life, including my children. Because the truth is, if I don’t allow myself to be awake and to enjoy my existence, I will plunge right back into that darkness where my journey really began. And whilst I am grateful for the courageous, resilient woman that I emerged from that darkness as, I have no time left to waste in that void.
If you are unsure of what resolutions you should make, don’t listen to those that tell you not to make them! Just think about them more carefully. Pull yourself away from the mainstream and explore what is really important. And you know deep inside what is really important – it’s you – and that’s ok! Let 2020 be about you – allow yourself to present – allow yourself to be happy – whatever it takes.
Happy 2020 everyone – I raise a glass to ‘you’ and wish you an absolutely fantastic journey, whatever that may look like. I hope this message spreads far and wide to let those who need it know that there is hope.
Love Angela xxx