Thank you for everything

"We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better." JK Rowling

A month into 2016, and already I have so much to be grateful for.

My right to work in this country is now irrefutable and I have the amazing generosity of my friends to thank for that.

I finally received the money that was due to me after persisting for nearly four months. I couldn't have lasted the journey without the help of my wonderful friend, Master M.

At the end of the year, I had sold a few pieces of art and a meeting with an old friend, K, has given me much food for thought and more impetus to do this as a business.

My contributions to a dating website helped to win them Best Commercial Blog at the UK Dating awards and they have now been shortlisted for the UK Blog Awards.

Connection with an intrepid explorer* is filling me with envy with every message, post, picture he shares, but it's also sowed seeds, awakening the adventurer in me. Bubbling away is a plan... a totally head-in-the-clouds-this-is-impossible idea. Perhaps it will remain a wish, a beautiful dream, but I must try to make it happen.

I renewed a connection with someone I had thought gone, who introduced me to the word saudade, a Portugeuse word that conveys a longing for a person, time or place that is lost.  He's pretty darn awesome.

A coach once observed that I need my own cheer squad -- I am the kind who needs people to push me, encourage me and it's true. I draw my energy, my joy from the people around me. After I left my marriage, quit the day job and basically left every safety net I had constructed, I found myself in a near constant state of feeling bereft. A year on from becoming a single mother, I still feel like I'm missing a piece, but I'm learning to cope. And in the last few weeks, I have come to a realisation and a resolution: Right now, at this time, spending hours and hours by myself is not natural to me. I will stop berating myself for not wanting to be alone, for refusing to accept that state. And you know what? I will no longer allow someone else to tell me I should be.

So, I am taking steps. My friend VL asked what drives me. And the answer was simple: people. Being connected to them meaningfully. I need to be in a situation where I am working with others on a daily basis. And because I am the way I am, quite a number of others to spread the impact. And I have to do this, or I will short out the connections I already have. I have also recently been sharply reminded that I need to be gentle with fledgling connections, something I had forgotten in my enthusiasm and delight. I am sorry they got overwhelmed, and if they choose to come back, I will do my best to accommodate them. Another reason to change the status quo sooner rather than later.

I am still trying to figure out what is the best version of myself, and will I ever recognise it if I ever achieve it? I do know this: when I am 80, in the wee wee hours of the night, when I am alone with myself, I want to have a wealth of memories of a life lived well to make me smile.

Here's to a future worth writing about.

* Who led me to this brilliant song, the soundtrack to today's post.

You, me and Santa

It's Boxing Day 2015 and I've just spent my first Christmas as a single person in 21 years. It's also the first without family around me, not even my Little Monster. But I wasn't alone.

Bubs and me spent Christmas Eve with a friend and a young family we used to live next to. Yo cooked up a traditional Polish meal for us and there were even presents under a tree! Bubs had a great time helping -- she asked us to guess what dessert was and tricked us into believing it was cake. Much fun was had. And for Christmas Day itself, my lovely friends shared their dinner with me while bubs was at her grandparents' with her father.

So, Santa.

As an unrepentant atheist parent, I am conflicted about the whole Father Christmas thing. I've always told bubs that all her presents were from people who loved her. But of course, everywhere we turn, the inevitable "So what have you asked Santa for this Christmas?" question is asked, and he appears in every place we go. Understandably, bubs is confused too. She knows I don't believe in Santa. But feedback from everyone else indicates otherwise. I could see her mulling over this conundrum in the run up.

On the way home in the taxi, the driver asked if bubs had been good for Santa. The answer was a very firm, "Santa doesn't exist!" and she scrambled out of the cab (the driver was startled and I think a little horrified that someone so young was already so cynical). Minutes later, she scribbled a note to Santa on her sketch pad asking him for a bike and propped it up on the window for him to see. I tried to explain it was too late but she was adamant. Of course, Christmas Day dawned and no bike. Well, she said, that means Santa doesn't exist. I think she'd already decided that and it was a last ditch attempt to prove herself wrong. She's a little sad, and angry I think, but seems to accept that it is so. I suspect that she'd asked Santa for her parents to be together at Christmas and that is what led to the realisation that he isn't real.

But we shared a good Christmas morning together -- she loved her Space Putty and toy Tribble -- and I loved watching her play while I did last minute wrapping. Her father came to collect her and I got the cold shoulder for, I suspect, sending her away. I was a bit saddened, but I know it was the best thing for her. At least for today.

She's not home yet from her grandparents'; I wonder how it went. But when she comes home, I will tell her that I missed her and that I wasn't sending her away. I will tell her that other people love her too and I can't keep her all to myself. She makes so many people happy, it would be too selfish of me not to share.

I have said many times, and as recently as yesterday, that I am not cut out to be a mother. I think I have been looking at this wrong. The shape that I am is not that of a mother as I believe should be, But if I turn my head just so, I can may be see a glimmer of one. And of course, I have the tools and a willing helper to re-shape me. Customised and everything.