When it bites you from behind

Just occassionaly my veneer gets a bolt form the blue that causes so much unexpected hurt that it actually makes me want to vomit. It's an irrational response to stuff that is no longer relevent but its unaddressed. Unaddressed because I will simply never understand why anyone would want to cause someone pain.

Wouldn't life just be peachy if everyone that came into your life had integrity. It's not rocket science - the thing is that if you treat people kindly, you don't damage them. If you treat people kindly, you may hurt them but you don't mess with their head.

And yet it seems the hardest thing in the world, since on the whole - most of us walk around in denial about the impact we have on those that we meet. Perhaps if we lived in a society whhich was founded on giving rather than taking- perhaps it  would less of an issue,


I am running out of inner strength

Thank God I am not a spider

I have never really been sure if I believe in horoscopes, taking the view that you make your own future. State of mind, attitude to life, openness to people and experience must surely play a large part of the road you travel. But I'm also open minded. There are so many things that I know so little about that I believe that it is far better to be open to a wider concept than to follow the thought that if I don't believe in it, it doesn't exist.

So on the whole, I don't read horoscopes. After all, if the predictions for the coming week were accurate they would affect everyone of the same birth sign. In a small town, life would only have variation dependent of the number of star signs.

Sometime ago and perhaps I posted it on here - I completed all the relevant birth details for an online horoscope profile. The accuracy of my personal traits was quite disconcerting. I have idea as to how banging in my DOB, place of birth and exact timing would profile me in such an accurate way, but it did.

The Cancerian Crab, with an emotional shell around so hard that it takes some perseverance to get inside. Yet once penetrated, deeply loyal. One man in my life said "Hard as nails on the outside but  marshmallow inside" This statement made before extra few pounds were added and the outside became more like a marshmallow too. Ironic that he spent month bashing down barriers until I finally said I cared. At that point he had to be attached to an ECG machine. Not an experience that encourages one to be forth coming.

But it's a fair point.

I had supper with a friend on Friday evening and we had a long conversation on the very matter. Unable to see how I could be seen as hard, she made the fatal mistake of being really, really lovely. So I cried. On the positive side, the waiter was so alarmed he didn't advise me of the option for tipping, so it was a cheaper night than planned.

I don't like being vulnerable, if I let my guard down and think someone may hurt me, I'll retreat faster than you can blink. It's not a good thing. If I get hurt, I would rather chew my toenails than admit it. I spend a lot more time than is necessary assuming I need to outwit people. Its limiting.

I blame me. I'm perfectly normal with men that don't interest me. With men that cause an eyebrow to raise in interest (not a common occurrence) the defences go up, which really is the opposite of what should happen. It's tricky.

Clearly a crab. Thank god I'm not a black widow spider

Paralysed with guilt

Ten days ago, a teenager I refer to as my half child was seriously injured in a car crash. The child of a friend who had died and life long chum to my own son - he has, over the years been very much part of the furniture.

Now he has spinal injuries. Whether he will ever walk again is unknown and whilst he lies in a hospital bed pondering what the future may be, there is another teenager who also had his whole life turned upside down that night. For him, there is physical proof of the acute pain he will be in.

And that is the driver. A boy who having only driven for a month, miraculously walked away without injury. Except this poor child, through no fault on his part lost control of the car in horrendous weather conditions. Perhaps another 20 years driving experience may have made the difference, perhaps if they had left an hour earlier, taken the first right, driven 1mph slower, perhaps if he had done all of this and more - the crash wouldn't have happened.

But the crash did happen and no matter how much he relives the accident in his head, nothing can change the events of that night. This boy, a mere 18 years old himself, has just had his innocence ripped from him and though reassured by others that no one places any blame at his door, will be suffering the kind of soul destroying guilt that most of us are lucky never to experience.

How could it possibly feel to be the driver of a car in which one of your best friends is potentially paralysed. How could you carry on with your venture into adulthood, maintain that spring in your step, hold onto the kind of wide eyed optimism that you have at 18?

When someone you care about is hurt or killed in an accident, it is human nature to question 'Why them and not me?" When you were involved in the cause and are just 18, this is the kind of accident that can leave the most monumental psychological scar. You can be certain that this boy is not thinking as the rest of us are "Thank god none of the others were hurt. Frankly, much better one seriously injured teenager than three. It sounds harsh but in a car crash involving teenagers there really is a worse case scenario.

I cry when I think of the half child but take positivity from each and every tiny sign of progress, from the support he has from family and friends to the staff around him. I have confidence that he will receive the best level not just because of the extent of his injury but because when you meet him, you cannot fail but to adore him,

As for the boy driving, I know that it's frequently the unseen things that cause the biggest harm.  My heart breaks for him.

Life is harsh

Hip, Hip, Horror - When heels become a weighty issue

I seem to be storing fat deposits, which is odd - since I am not pregnant.

And so I went off to TK Maxx in a bid to rid myself of the horror of it all by the purchase of new shoes.

Whilst new shoes were purchased, they did little to alleviate the horror of having flesh that is ....fleshy.


I have never worried about my weight and even now, what the scales say- should I stand on them, doesn't bother me in the slightest. But fleshy bits are simply too much to deal with. When I stood in the changing rooms and tried on my normal size 6 jeans, I looked like a someone had tried to squeeze a water snake though and empty loo roll. Just to confirm my worst fears, I slapped my bottom and I saw movement.

That caused the kind of reaction that TK Maxx did very well out of.

Yet for the first time ever, I actually look female, with proper hips and a waist - but only from a distance. Close up and I'd be concerned that should you stand next to me in a typhoon, you may be physically harmed.  To add to my own revulsion and confirm the horror of the situation, I stuck my fingers into the flesh at the back of my waist and lost sight of my finger nail.

This is a new one for me. I have never put on sufficient weight to cause concern, never dieted - but this weight gain would take a level of acceptance that I am not ready to deal with. When I stand straight I want to hear a snapping sound, not an aftershock.

So there was only one sensible reaction and it was not buying larger clothes. It was the purchase of  an exceptionally tight dress and an exercise device that judging by the picture of the man on the front, is rather good at causing bodily tautness.

I shall hang the dress in the snug as an incentive to stomach crunch my way back to stick instectdom. It will be an incentive, since I would rather massage a mans toes than be seen in public with a dress that is that figure hugging. Anyone who knows my aversion to the male big toe - will understand the gravity of that declaration.

And I know with certainty that my friends consider my revulsion at the fleshy bits to be verging on insanity but I say this: without my superficiality, my wardrobe and my shoe collection - where would you gain your entertainment.

Count this as my public duty

Thigh deep in cycling

There are many things you can judge a man on. And whilst I set the bar quite high for integrity, value and morals, it starts with the thighs.

In the years I spent married, I can't say that I paid undue attention to men's thighs. One can only assume that since infidelity is not a practise I would partake in, that there was little reason for  to do. That all changed the day 'It' walked out and I discovered that a well toned body was something to be admired. With divorce came the belated and utter admiration for a pair of well toned thighs. Possibly to an unhealthy degree. If the well toned thighs come with well defined upper arms and a torso with tone - I am done for.

Put me within 5ft of well toned thighs and I lose the ability to communicate normally. There are those that would argue this to be my normal articulation ability, but anyone that has seen me respond to those with the right body - will know that I turn into a total airhead.

Which is unfortunate.

It is fair to say that living with a man that never exercised did little to feed the admiration for the male body. Post dutiful wife role I can see that in fact, the suitable kempt male body- is a thing of utter beauty. Sadly, it can be short lived. Far too many men act like peacocks, with lots of preening in a bid to secure a mate. Once found, they start eating. Before you know it, you are curled up on the sofa clutching someone's muffin top and the thighs become like a shelf for the remote.

But this new adoration for mens thighs comes with a price - and that is the envy that comes with it. Whilst gazing in admiration, I find myself hankering after the kind of muscle tone that feeds my inappropriate thought process. On high level thigh envy, I decide I need start cycling.

So I go to the bike shop and try a girls bike.  It's also very small which given my stature, should be perfect. I sit on it and feel like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I try a bigger one and still look like I have a spine disorder. Far worse, its red and white and frankly, it's a bit girlie.

The mens bike is matt charcoal, so I want it already because I am a girl and we choose technical stuff on important criteria, such as the colour. Sitting on it and it feels almost comfortable, if a little short.

"You are body is better suited to a man's bike" say's the man

"Are you saying that I have a man's body?" say I

"What I mean" he say's, back peddling frantically

"Is that women's bike's are designed for average women, and you are clearly not one of those"

So I leave the shop with my man's bike, feeling inordinately chuffed that I am not like other women.

And then I tackle my first hill. It is not as easy as it looks.

Apparently, it takes more than a mans bike and a lot of Lycra to get those thighs.

A downhill challenge

I haven't been able to write for some time, which is a good thing as much as a bad. The last three years have been a journey in so many different forms and I have spent some time on it, trying to work out both the stuff in my head and the stuff around me. People have come into my life, people have left and I have used this blog to work things out. It's how I stop myself reacting to things.

Writing has been my space for cathartic vomit, to be happy, be hurt, to reframe, to rationalise, to deal with the things that at times, I have found unbearable. I write about things that I am incapable of expressing - which on the whole is my own vulnerability. I'm good at understanding other peoples issues, good at trying to separate someones behaviour from the person they truly are beneath. I am hopeless at telling anyone that I am hurt, or terrified, or vulnerable.

 And yet the blog has become the place where in fact, I cannot purge too many thoughts. There are so many observations that I have made, so much that I have worked out but to say them, to work it out here, would be picking away at the people I have cared about. (This clearly does not extent to IT) Which is a shame, since some of the best observations I have made are about the behaviour of others almost buried alive by their own baggage. Still, it's not like I am without mine.

 So, some time back I bumped into a man I once dated. We had a drink (in the company of others) and it was one of the biggest head screws I have ever experienced. The entire conversation was tinged with subtext and though they did not understand the specifics, made all present, most uncomfortable.

 Now I am a quick witted girl and I can hold my own on quick fire retort. What I couldn't do is keep up with who said what. By the end of the evening I wasn't even sure of my own name. There was lots of "don't you think if this happens, someone can project this onto someone who once did that" The general gist was "I recognise I was a bit of an arse but someone was once a bit of an arse to me, so that's okay"

 I say this - Life is full of people being unkind, of mothers that bullied, of fathers that ran off. Girlfriends are unfaithful, dogs bite, people die. No matter what it is, none of it makes it okay to treat someone else unkindly. No one is perfect, we all have issues but hey, lets all try and work those out with some honesty and not by 'projecting'the same onto people that come into you life and care.

As I drove off, the thought occurred that generally speaking, the people that screw with your head are generally people with screwed up heads. Trying to rationalise with a screwed up head is quite a tricky affair and probably best left to an expert in screwed up heads. But what a totally an utter waste of someones life. To be so damaged that you push everyone away has to be the ultimate road to loneliness.

In that moment of clarity on what is strikingly obvious, I realised that I do not need anyone messing with my head anymore and what I really needed, was to find something bigger to focus on. I needed a challenge that made the issues of others pale.

So three days later, I got on a plane to Bulgaria. I have never skied, I have never wanted to. I loathe the cold, much more of a SE Asia kind of girl. So I booked a three day skiing course, by myself. All I knew was that Bulgaria was somewhere in Estern Europe and I hated Skiing.

I cried in fear every day, I nearly died in the process of experiencing Bulgarian alcohol and my skiing isn't hugely better than it was before I left. I cried (like a snivelling baby) not because I found skiing difficult, it's not really that hard (theoretically). I cried because I avoid doing anything outside my comfort zone. Facing downhill on a slope in some alarmingly slippery skis, tapped into my bigest fear. Being vulnerable.

The ski instructor's plied me with empathy and shots and by the end of it, assessed that whilst I could ski, my biggest problem was that I refused to believe that I could. It was the perfect example of how fear prevents you going further in life.

On finding a challenge to make all the things that had become bigger than they ever deserved, it worked. More than that it taught me that I'm stronger than I thought. I cried in front of strangers and the sky didn't fall in.

So I'm vulnerable, I'm human. And despite the ridiculous heels, the acerbic tongue and the ability to think one step ahead, I cry like a girl on skis.

Occasionally.

Parasites and parenting

I sat with a dear male friend last night and whilst he was keen not too - I pushed him on an area of his life that is a little tricky. He loves his other half. She love him. He doesn't want children, she does.

I took the hard arse route, as is my way and partly from a weariness of mens inability to understand that women fill in the gaps with words they want to hear. As a collective group, we need to understand if there is a gap, it's because there is nothing in it.

Women think "If I love him long enough that he will eventually come around". Most men avoid thinking on the basis that if they are not thinking about it, the whole thing will go away (even if he knows it won't).

So as hard arse militant female, I point out (and no, he didn't ask me to) that if he doesn't want to have children then he needs to end the relationship and allow her the chance to find someone that does want children. Hard to do when you love someone, but in the end it will be a relationship filled with resentment or with children that weren't really wanted. I have vivid recollections of the night 'It' shared that he had never wanted the twins, but thought it might make our marriage better. Since it ended in divorce, I guess he was right.

It became clear that the real crux of the matter was dear male chum did not know if he wanted children and there were perhaps some deep routed reasons for his reluctance. And that's the crux, he was looking for answers to questions most of us don't ask until it's too late.

So to the male friend that doesn't know if he wants children - it's a healthy start. Maybe you do, maybe you don't, but there are no answers to anything, certainly no guarantees. You may hate parenthood, you may love it. It is hard, heartbreaking and tiring with periods of mirth scattered amongst many years of tiresome slog. It's not about you, it's about them and they will serve no real purpose in the short term.

As one famous for voicing thoughts, I have spent several years of my life loading washing machines, finding cereal bowls under wall hung loos and picking cornflakes out of my underwear drawer and asking myself 'What exactly is the benefit of having children? and never really coming up with a conclusive answer.

So tonight I revisit a website forum from the early days of being a mother of multiples, and discover that the 10 year old son of one of the regular posters has just lost his fight for life. Then I finally understood the day to day purpose in having children. The benefit is intangible, it is unseen. It is the kind of love that you do not know how deep it runs until you have something go terribly wrong or if you have the most painful experience in life of losing a child.

Having children is a pre-programmed need to keep the human race going, little more. For those that think that they bring some sense of meaning to your life, prepare to be disappointed because on a day to day level - they can make your life pretty meaningless. You need to be looking at the wider picture. Look not at what you seek to gain but at what you will gain from giving.

Children will drive you insane, they will leave you exhausted, frustrated and feeling like a total failure. Yet they can only do this if you were hoping to gain something from having them. An unwise expectation.

Yet if there was one role that children have that they do well - it is that they make you less selfish. Parenting is about giving and those that fail to do so, fail to gain anything from the experience of having children.

Children are parasites by nature, they take everything from you in order to survive. Once they have mastered the art of feeding themselves and stealing chocolate from every known stash in the house, they take your possessions and your money and once thats over, they take your sanity. Only at the point that you expect nothing from them, is when you see what you gain.

And it's this: when you learn to truly give, you gain a level of pleasure only attained when not seeking in return. If you were not loved as a child, you won't fill the gap when you are an adult - you will just spend a lifetime trying to be a better parent than yours were. When you were marginalised as a child through lack of opportunity and you push your child to achieve, don't be surprised if your child sticks two fingers in the air and refuse to gain employment in anything more than the local kitchen. When you buy your child gifts instead of time, do not raise an eyebrow that they do not want to spend Christmas with you. Their purpose is not to make you feel fabulous and validate the choice to have them, their purpose is to grow into a loved individual who carries on the human race.

And giving to that degree is what good parents do because children do not ask to be born, we choose to have them. They are not here to serve you a purpose, they are here to continue the human race and whilst we all think of ourselves as having given up so much of our lives in having them -we don't realise just how much they gave us, until they leave. Or die.

And only those that have suffered the unimaginable pain of losing a child will understand just how deep routed that love is, just how much their lives were changed as a result of that child being born and just how much they really gained from that short period.

As for my dear male friend. You would make a great Dad.

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