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My constant fear of what people will think.

They’ll know I’m a fraud.   It’s all an act.   Say the right thing, appear this way and they will approve.   They do approve, so why change? What does my fear look like?  False bravado.  Pursuing confrontation which I’d rather not.  Overthinking every word.  Replaying decade old conversations in my mind, wishing I’d said something different. Saying no to things I should say yes to.  Being illogically headstrong.  Debilitating fear of failure.  Doing only the things people think I’m good at.  Immersing myself in work in a way that’s not always healthy.  Dying on the hill of declarations I made about myself that no longer apply.  Shutting people out.  Pretending I know the words to say.  Pretending I’m a better friend than I am.  Manipulating narratives to suit me.  Playing the victim.  Anger.  Retelling every story like an epic. Lying.  A constant burden to carry.  I even fear that people will know that I fear what people will think. Does this mean deep down I judge people?  Worried wha
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They call me mum.

I am a mother.  Two formidable girls call me mum and it is a role I came into fearfully, one I was ill-prepared for and one that teaches me countless lessons daily. The responsibility of getting it right feels like the proverbial sword of Damocles; looming and constantly reminding me of what other things I have to get right. Will they be happy, are they secure, am I good example, what lessons do I still have to teach, are they eating enough vegetables, will they know that they are capable of achieving all they set their minds to? It goes on and on and I tremble as I type this because the list is actually endless and I often feel I may not have the strength or the presence of mind to actually get it right.  And there is that word! Right. What is the right, correct, proper way to be their mother? I have no idea. But what I learnt today is that it is simpler than I often imagine. It is about being present. Listening and engaging and finding out who these people really are and getting
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Good morning 2014.

I really cannot believe how long it's been since I last blogged. Sometimes life takes over, grabs you by the scruff of the neck and drags you into submission. Pausing to write about it all was the furthest thing from my mind. Instead I just licked my grass burns and pulled through it with all the energy I could muster. To be honest 2013 wasn't all bad, in fact it was pretty fabulous. I didn't do all I'd set out to do, I did some things I could have never envisaged and grew in ways I know will be useful for me in the future. So this very first waking moment of 2014 finds me sitting on the cold floor of the balcony of our apartment. I cannot believe how neglected my hanging strawberry baskets are. These once astoundingly fertile and beautiful baskets of fruit and plush greenery (that always reminded me of the fruit of the loom logo), are now in dire straits! There must be a metaphor somewhere in there. Where there once was promise now grow weeds. Not even impressive weeds
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