Where to next...?

Sometimes...you hit a wall.

Maybe you can't decide if it's shorts weather. Perhaps there's a gift to be bought but you'll be buggered if you have any ideas. Did you make a New Year's resolution to blog every day and don't know what to say one week in?

Or maybe it's your life.

Maybe you're speeding towards that wall with no idea how to avoid it. You can't even be certain where it is. It's somewhere up ahead - you can definitely make it out - but there's no knowing how long you have before you go hurtling into it. That's where I am. And it's scary.

I had a baby - as you do - in June 2012. I took my maternity leave with the intention of returning to the job I thrived in, the people I loved working with and the clients I'd forged relationships with. Yes, I was looking forward to the break - I think I needed to step off the wheel for a while (and onto that of sharing life with a newborn again - hardly a rest!) ;) It was a tough thing to do in so many ways, especially in an environment where things changed so much and so quickly - Who would have gone by the time I came back? What new projects would have been created? Would there be a new position for me?

I will never forget the intense feeling of loss that lasted for many months when the company closed the office. It wasn't the fact that I found out on Facebook that hurt me the most. It wasn't the fact that my only chance of returning would be to accept a role at the head office and subject myself and my family to at least four hours travelling per day. It wasn't, therefore, the weeks of inevitable negotiation of my redundancy terms. It was gone. Our office - our team - the heartbeat of the whole company - the people - the silly traditions - gone. There was nothing that could be done to bring any of that back. Moving to another office - as some had done - wasn't going to be anywhere near the same. There was nothing I could do about it. The announcement was made on a Friday afternoon, effective Monday morning. Done.

It may seem melodramatic to assimilate an office closure with a death. But that's just what it felt like. There are seven stages of grief and that is what I went through. I didn't realise at the time, but it is so clear to me now.

I was in shock for such a long time. There was no Denial phase for me - it was definitely done and dusted and I knew that straight away. But it took months before I got angry. And once I did, it didn't last very long. Then there were tears. And eventually...it was over.

I went on to have another baby - at 35 there didn't seem much sense in finding a new job, settling in again, carving a career for myself, building a reputation, forging relationships and then putting it all on hold for maternity leave again. 

Truth be told - I just wasn't ready to look for another job. The idea of working somewhere else seemed entirely implausible. I knew nothing would measure up to what I'd had before. I still carried a torch that I wasn't yet ready to cast aside.

So here I am.

The baby is now nine months old and racing towards that point where he will rely far less on me for sustenance, care and comfort. In just a few months he will be supping cow's milk and my feeding will be no more than a comforting habit and little snack, no doubt. There will be far less holding me back.

What am I going to do then? Unfortunately being a stay-at-home mum doesn't pay well enough for my liking. As a household, we really could use another income. As an individual, I need something else to challenge me. Not that my three children aren't a challenge - far from it - but I'm just not good enough to face that same challenge every day!

I'm still not convinced I'm ready to extinguish that flame that still flickers inside me. Maybe I never will be. Perhaps I could start my own business instead. But what would I do? Yes, the possibilities are limitless but with that comes a total lack of direction. And that's assuming I can find the time and discipline I would need to try working for myself and looking after the children.

I don't know exactly where that wall is...but I know I'm heading for it. Will it break me in to a thousand pieces? Or will it me the making of me somehow?

I wish I knew.

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Activity vs. Achievement

Do you ever wonder what you did with your day?

I do.

It's quite common for me to be awoken at 6:30 and not to return to the comfortable dent in my pillow until midnight. And yet, I struggle to see what it is I have achieved with those 18.5 waking hours!

That's not to say I am participating in some experiment to test the 'lady-of-leisure' title to breaking point by lollopping on the sofa all day - far from it. My time is occupied by a plethora of roles, responsibilities and tasks. I wear so many different hats, I often can't keep track of them all. But being busy doesn't necessarily mean you've achieved anything.

I think the difference for me is satisfaction. That's the missing element required to convert 'busy'ness to 'achievement'. And when you go for long enough without feeling like you've got anything to show for your efforts, it is soul-destroying. Yes, I have managed to keep the children alive, the washing in its constant clean-dirty-wet-dry-clean cycle, the dishwasher churning. I have even maintained some standard of personal hygiene, playful affection with my partner and  optimism that life won't always feel like this! But these things have to be done again, and again, and again without moving life forwards in any way. If I didn't do them one day, we wouldn't move backwards, life would merely hiccup.

My partner can't always see what I'm whinging about. He can see how busy I've been and thinks I'm knitting with only one needle when I suggest at 11pm I might go and unpack some boxes (from our house move in July)/audit the kids toy collection/hoover the ground floor. He doesn't realise that these are things on the other list of stuff I want to get done and that will make me feel a sense of achievement. I can tick them off life's 'To Do' list. No-one has 'Provide breakfast/lunch/dinner' on their list. 'Breastfeed the baby'. 'Put the shopping away'.

Crazy though this behaviour might seem, it can make a real difference. Anyone who has experienced depression will be familiar with the negativity surrounding a feeling of not being in control of one's life, being on auto-pilot, marking time. It's a slippery slope and allowing days to trickle by without so much as a teeny step being taken in the right direction can be the first step on that slope which will have you on your arse before you can say bugger.

I started a list today. Actually, I created a group on a messaging app for just me and my partner. It's called Achievements. We have plenty of lists around with umpteen tasks we should have done before we moved. They do work for us. But I wanted somewhere we could go to remind us what we've got done rather than haven't even looked at yet. Some days it will only be something little - I realise that. ubt at least it's something. Today, my achievements are [just checking my messaging group with a smug grin in place] enquiring about nursery places for our toddler (and ending up with an appointment for Monday morning!), sourcing this year's real Christmas tree (IKEA from 26th November and only £30 for 6-7ft!) and WRITING THIS POST! Genius!

I'm not going to cure cancer, end famine or achieve world peace. But it might make me feel better about staying at home all day wiping up sick, snot and skids!

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So this is Christmas...

So this is Christmas
And what have we done?
Another year over
A new one just begun

Five years ago I was facing my first Christmas Eve & Christmas morning without my little girl. It was her dad's turn to have her. As a fully fledged member of Adulthood, there was no real problem with this although I wasn't relishing the thought of spending the beginning of the yuletide festivities at home with my cats - that was a life statement I was ready to make!

And there he was. My knight in shining armour. He suggested he stay over on Christmas Eve and head off to his mum's Christmas dinner the next day. I hadn't asked him to. I hadn't even dropped subtle hints, ready to get annoyed at him if he didn't pick up on them. We'd only been seeing each other a matter of weeks (about 6 by my calculation) so I was still trying to dish out the 'crazy' in very small portions, if at all!

Fast-forward a few years and he stepped up in a far more important way. Despite having done it before, it would seem that giving birth for a second time - to our enormous son - was a task for which I was ill-equipped. And without him right by my side I would still be there now trying to deliver an 18 month old!

But that little gesture five years ago - that act of kindness - is what he is all about. He hides it well under the façade of being a grumpy bugger most of the time. Bah Humbug and all that. But when something matters, large or small, he knows.

Merry Christmas, I love you.

The Human Body is an Amazing Thing, but...

The human body is an amazing thing.

However, you'd think it would be able to distinguish between a human embryo and a cold virus. As I am writing this from the discomfort and inconvenience of my cold-filled pregnant body, I can confirm that this is not the case.

I am grateful that my body has placed my immune system on 'standby', so as not to reject the tiny person growing inside me. I just wish that didn't mean that, along with all of the other changes and challenges my first trimester body has been dealing with, it has to also deal with a migraine-turned 2 day headache-turned sword swallowers sore throat-turned snot fest.

As if the first trimester weren't bad enough... We all know how pregnancy takes its toll. Obviously the most drastic changes come between not being pregnant and being pregnant. But aside from the physical, there are plenty of psychological hurdles to overcome too.

Firstly, there's the overwhelming excitement that comes with finding out you're pregnant. This very quickly becomes overshadowed by what could easily be described as parenthood. What if there's something 'wrong' with the baby? What if I miscarry? What if there's more than one?!

And no-one can answer these questions until the 'dating' scan at around 12 weeks pregnant!

As if THAT little lot weren't enough to add to the sleepless nights (already facilitated by the hormone-induced need to pee each individual teaspoon of fluid consumed and the hormone-induced aching joints), there's the anxiety over whether anyone has noticed that you're looking tubby/tired/tormented/ecstatic and whether, in turn, you've made the right decision NOT to tell anyone til you've had the all-clear.

You see, the hardest part of all is having no-one to share it with other than daddy-to-be. And we all now that, no matter how great he might be, no-one's quite like your mum/best mate/sis-in-law when it comes to having a good whinge!

Thankfully, tomorrow marks the beginning of the second trimester for me and Sprout. I expect to wake up devoid of lurgy and feeling bright and glowing. At least, that's what my pregnancy app suggested would happen...soon.

Erm...

I sit here. Boyfriend out of the way. Baby sleeping soundly. Pretty Woman for background company. Laptop in front of me (iPad & mobile adjacent).
I am literate. Highly-opinionated. Articulate by nature. A true lover of language and expression.
And I find myself on mute. Nothing to say. Or rather, no specific subject in mind. Why is this?
I can only surmise that it is, in fact, caused by having too many things to say. Having just (9.5 weeks ago but I'm sure I can get away with 'just' for a little while longer) had a baby, I have spent the best part of a year with a brain made of holes held loosely together by disorganised nonsense and baby-related bunkem. Now the fog has lifted and I can't hone in on ONE sensible thread as there is a myriad thoughts which, once forming an orderly queue, awaiting their moment of glorious expression, now like toddlers - one enormous, undiscernible rabble (covered in dribble).
One can only hope this will pass as the knot untangles and the threads return to coherent thoughts & opinions.
Watch this space...my next blog could be about cucumbers, jet engines or the state of modern telephone directories.
Interesting times ahead.

Silence is golden?

I'm not impressed. It's fair to say that I am usually an advocate of modern technology, of advancements which render our lives that bit easier/more fun/more efficient.
Take, for example, the iPad. Amazing invention which no-one actually needs and yet everyone wants. But what really impresses is the strange turn of events which follows the acquisition of said technological wonder. It becomes instantly indispensable. "How did we ever live without it?"
Do not mistake me - being able to watch TV/listen to music/look-up a recipe/engage via the current plethora of social media from the comfort of your own sofa/kitchen/loo is a privilege which should be made available to all. Very handy. And instantly indispensable.
However, I have a gripe. Typing on a touchscreen is a soulless experience. There is something missing. It just feels wrong somehow. And then it dawns on me. There is no satisfying 'tap tap' from the keyboard. The little clicks that mark your constant progress across the page. The comforting sound that harks back to the days of typewriters, ribbons and manual carriage returns "ding". Yes, "keyboard sounds" are available on all modern devices nowadays but their synthetic plinks and plonks are worse than this enforced and soulless silence.
So, as I 'type' away on my iPad, occasionally making my own taps each time I catch my fingernails on the screen, it dawns on me that there is, in fact, one single advantage to this muffled prose - my sleeping baby remains just that, asleep.