I hope I don't die before I've had a chance to live

The Simon Pegg character says something along those lines in the film Hector and the Search For Happiness+. 

About a month ago, I became acquainted with a young blogger on Twitter who had ditched it all to travel around the world. I've been vicariously enjoying his adventure through a tiny 5.5 inch screen. He's been telling me a little about the places he's been, the people he's met and the things he's done. He's a great photographer too -- his pictures have been awe-inspiring.

The nature of my marriage meant that I couldn't travel as much as I wanted and if I were to be brutally honest, it was my own relationship with money that caused much of that. But we did have some adventures: we'd canoed down the River Severn, then taken a steam train back up. I loved the canoeing bit best. Being on the water was wonderful. We'd gone to Sonisphere the year I found out I was pregnant. I felt Little Monster move for the first time while Iron Maiden was on.

We'd also been on a couple of boating holidays on the Broads, camping and theme parks. We love rollercoasters; my favourite moment was hanging at the top of a ride called the Mega Drop at Pleasurewood Hills on the Norfolk coast. I could see the shining sea over the treetops and the silence was almost divine.

I'd never been skiing, or jumped off a waterfall, nor been in a hot air balloon. But I am aiming to do so. Little Monster and I have been talking about all the places we hear about and like to see: she wants to go to Rabbit Island in Japan (and be mobbed by rabbits!) and of course, she wants to go to Singapore. I too would like to return to Japan, and revisit the amazing places I'd been as a teen. But I'd also like to go to the ones I'd never been: Vietnam. Korea, Australia, New Zealand, Africa, China and for some reason, Canada has been on my mind a lot. I would love to see the Northern Lights.

My godparents*, who should be retired, are still seeing the world. They are my inspiration. When my life shattered the first time round in 2000, one of my old friends from university went off on a round the world trip with his wife. The stories he told were marvellous and inspiring, and made me wish I was doing that. 

Well, I'm not certain I could do what my intrepid Tweeter is doing. or what my godparents continue to do, but I am going to give it a damn good shot. Our first stop will be Singapore of course.

+ Irritatingly, it seemed to say that happiness is having a partner and that a family completes you. Gah.
*The bestest, most awesomest grown-ups I have the privilege of knowing. 

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. 

Stretched, compressed, distracted

This past week has really tested my equanimity and I'm afraid by Saturday morning, I was pretty much combusting.

I once wrote that I was not made for motherhood, and I stand by that. I don't love it, not like my amazing friend Celia*, who very clearly does and thrives on it.

For reasons of her own, Little Monster insisted that I pick her up from school every day instead of her father. Seven days of this, and not once did she ask for him or ask about him. She would say things like "You and me and daddy" when telling me a story, but that was rarely. She seems happy enough but by god, by day eight (Saturday) I was in shreds.

In between hustling her up in the mornings for school, picking up from school, playing with her and all the usual day-to-day stuff, I was also looking for work, applying for jobs, and thinking of ways to make money, all of which I had to compress into the few hours that Little Monster was at school. Once we were together, well, it was just all her. There was no room for me.

And as usual, when I get pushed into a corner like that, I start looking for distractions. Or allowing distractions to divert me because that's better than enduring what appears to be endless GAAAH!

I'm glad I'd arranged for her to go to her grandparents' that day. But once she'd gone, the pressure that had been brewing in my head just took over the rest of me and all I could do was curl up under the duvet. A day's productivity lost.

But I am grateful for two old friends (M and M oddly enough!) who have not yet given up on me, even though I had been recalcitrant on the work and money front and not moving as fast as I should.

I'm also utterly grateful for the generosity of others. I can't even begin to tell you how that makes me feel.

The great news is I should be gainfully employed by the end of the week, and my access to delightful diversions will be seriously curtailed. Those who know me now will know this is the thing I will miss the most.

Question is, will I actually give it up? Someone observed that I was hooked on the attention I get from people like him. And he's quite right. Come on, who doesn't love being desired, especially if the person doing it is young and beautiful?


*If it weren't for her and her generous family, I don't know if Little Monster would be safe from me.

Things I am grateful for - notes from a Single Mum

What a weekend!

I am grateful for PTAs, without whom there wouldn't have been a school film, Christmas Fayre and dozens of excellent events. Little Monster had a brilliant time despite falling off her chair (well-deserved bump on the caboose since she was tilting her chair backwards, had a bit of a cheeky grin on when she told me).

A strange thing happened to me at the fair - I had a slight panic attack, elevated heart-rate, hyperventilation, desperate desire to flee. I had to move to less crowded corner to breathe properly. I don't think I'd ever been that uncomfortable in a crowd before. I guess it must have been the enclosed space. It only lasted a couple of minutes, but I was wound tight as a spindle, and had to grit my teeth for Little Monster's sake. Fortunately, we then found friends and just like magic, the tension evaporated. It's amazing what a friendly smile and a welcoming greeting can do. And mulled wine. That took the edge off too.

When we got home, I had to have a bit of a "lie down". Damn, was I was tired. And continued to be so all the way through our dear friends' party. Ah! What a lovely, cosy evening! Our first Canadian tree-trimming party.

Apparently, in Canada, you went outside, chopped your own tree down, brought it in-doors and trimmed it to fit the space. And it's a tradition to invite friends and family to help decorate it and the house while consuming much food and alcohol.

Little Monster and I had the best time - there was gorgeous food, such amazing cakes! and great company, stories, songs and colouring in! Everyone was invited to draw and colour in themed pictures to hang on the walls. Of course, Little Monster was in her element. Although, I think her favourite bit was actually doing the tree (our contribution was home-made baubles from pine cones which we painted silver and covered in glitter.)

Sunday we went a little stir crazy at home but a little wrestling, and careful chopping up of a Romanesco broccoli for dinner sorted us out. 

I am, once again, down to my last few pounds but you know what? My life is incredibly rich. Yes, there are moments of sadness, slices of despair, but I can't help but be thankful that I have had the privilege of experiencing the wonderful gifts that life has offered.

Womanning up

These past few days have been a little revelatory*.  It seems my "This Is A Bad Idea" alert has malfunctioned.

I wonder at my unthinking capacity to be used. A couple of incidents over the last few weeks have made me wonder if I am such a people-pleaser that I don't even notice when I am being ill-treated until the damage is felt. And even then, the discomfort only surfaces hours or even days later. It's almost as if I go into shock.

I don't really know why I don't care for myself as well as I should. I believe I do value myself -- removing myself from a situation that was extinguishing me is an indicator -- and yet, I find myself doing things just to please someone I barely know. Or rather, so that they would, god help me, like me.

So, I am saying to myself, "What are you? A child? Woman up for fuck's sake!" This is a perpetual tussle within me. But I have a new frame. She comes in size 12 shoes, and wants only for me to be with her, to be present for her. I am her world and right now, who and what I am, she sees and learns from. If I don't love myself, and show her that I do, only bad things can ensue. Sure, she'll learn from them, but I'd rather she have a role model that she can be proud of.

And I'd rather be a role model I'd be proud of too.

*Then again, since I left my old life, every other day seems to throw up something new about myself. It's like I had been shattered into millions of little pieces, then scattered all over the place. Each day, as I journey, I uncover a different piece, so shaped by its environs that it no longer fits into its old spot. So I have to study it anew, and make a new place for it within the new me. 

"Apologies for the delay to your service..."

It's been eight weeks since my corporate job ended and I launched myself into the great unknown.

I've signed up with various recruitment agents, created a profile on Freelancer.com and finally uploaded my work on Vimeo.

But...

I've been hesitating about actually producing my creative CV. Stalling about contacting those great companies I would love to do work for. When I actually sit down and start, I become paralysed.

I met a personal trainer this week - not as a client, but on a date - and he certainly had interesting things to say about fear and failure. I don't think I've ever met anyone with such indomitable belief in himself* -- it was almost breathtaking. He's right of course.

Google "procastination" and its causes, and fear is the number one answer. So the question is, what am I afraid of precisely? That the people I contact will look at what I have to offer and go pfft. That I'm not actually as good as I think I am. That I'm kidding myself. Round and round, ad infinitum.

I know what I need to do, but I am struggling to move, even though the prospect of impending poverty is making me slightly sick.

But I am moving, even though it feels like I'm moving through peanut butter.

*It also helps that he's not yet 30. The date itself was lovely -- he made me laugh, cry(!) and feel wonderful. It was a much needed lift to a grey day.

"Our past does not have to dictate our future happiness"

ten things I’ve learned as a single mom

A poignant post from Rachel, the mum behind "Finding Joy".

This week has been a real mix of highs and lows. Although I am happy, there is an undercurrent of loneliness and self-doubt.

The self-doubt isn't about being a good mother: I've nixed that one* - my daughter is an irrepressible, raucous ball of positivity - it takes quite a lot to get her down. And even when she is, she bounces back up within minutes. She's healthy, she has clean clothes (mostly), she still has good teeth, she can write her own name, read simple words, say complex ones (scary) and much much more. OK, sometimes she makes me despair ("Don't play with the glasses! Don't play with the glasses! Don't play with the---*smash! tinkle, tinkle* Oh, for the love of...") and I find myself hiding from her demands. And we are often late for school, she still doesn't have a school cardigan, and meals have been three different types of crisps and dinner has been whatever happens to be in the fridge. I am grateful that she has five solid meals a week when she's at school.

But I can see that she's doing well and I've learned not to judge myself harshly for doing the best I can. Sure I can do better, but I'm learning that I'm also enough.

The self-doubt has been bubbling these few days -- might be due to hormones in flux, might be depression making itself felt -- has been about me as a potential mate.

I've started dating again, or at least I am out there. It's been heady and delightful... but an incident has made me question my motives for seeking companionship.

My friend Wise Light asked why am I always running from myself. Months ago, I started researching how to be alone, that is, how to enjoy my own company. As usual, I soon got distracted and that got put aside. The issue has returned and I am now wondering again.

I think I need to perhaps try meditating and running again. I don't know why, but the coolest-headed people I know are all runners. Time to take a leaf out of their book.


*For now. For three nights now, she has been refusing to go to sleep at a reasonable hour and I feel horrible because I am horrible to her as I am so frustrated.