This Is How We Do It.

These days you don't fight to get out of the buggy, you don't mind me wrapping you like I do (above) to keep the cold from nipping your legs. 

There is one trait that I have that I hope you do/don't inherit and that is my ability to protect myself, or what's more commonly been referred to as my 'self defensiveness.' I hope you inherit this because while I like to jump to the defence of others (sometimes more than jumping to my own defence) I also like to defend the things that matter to me. I like to be understood, I like to clarify my point but I'm also learning; most people don't care and just enjoy judging you. Let it go and move on from their words.

These days I have imaginary conversations in my head or dream up scenarios where people in my life ask me questions about my day to day routine, about how I 'cope' with being ill and having a child - I assume no one is thinking this but I work through a variety of questions in my head should anyone wonder.

So, I thought you might like a record of this, so we can both look back and laugh in 20 years time or whatever ;). 

The one thing that sits heavily on my mind is the above. I don't talk about illness a lot because I'm scared of judgement; which is strange because whenever the judgement comes I just think 'that's a shame this person is so switched off to learning more about this illness' or 'you don't know what you're talking about and if you did, perhaps you wouldn't be so quick to judge this.' I worry that the mothers who have or had loads of children (to me that's 2+ children) judge me and think things like I can't 'cope' with my 'one child.' That I somehow must have things easy and I'm just being weak. I don't know if anyone thinks that but I'm sure someone has to, right? 

Then there are other sick people, people with M.E who try to talk to me, who I feel deserve to be understood and taken seriously yet I don't extend the same to myself. I panic that they think I'm 'not really ill' and this is another reason not to talk about illness. I do housework (minimal, but still, I'm doing it), I look after a child all day; cooking his food, cleaning his messes, trying my best to get him to use a potty, stay in bed, eat his greens and brush his teeth. All in all I feel like I 'do more' than the average M.E person but this 'doing more' often leads to not being able to attend church meetings and services, having absolutely no social life of my own, having zero friends, barely seeing family as well as taking the judgements that come with not attending church meetings and services - and the repercussions it has on my life even though both God and I know and see the good I'm doing in my own life and really, that's all that matters to me. 

In my heart and mind I'm just as worthy as anyone else who attends all their church services and meetings and is a worthy temple recommend holder, in a church sense I'm also at that point, just as worthy as anyone, doing all I can and going above and beyond when I can. Yet from time to time I feel judged because I am simply not at church, my body isn't there, my behind filling a seat, my voice not being heard in a room where a discussion on the gospel takes place yet in my home, in my mind, in my heart - and with God's approval - I am just like someone who is there for righteous reasons.  And deep down that's all the 'approval' or permission I need. No one is better than me because they are simply at church. I'm learning that it's inside your heart, what your deepest spiritual goals, desires and then acting on them and living what you believe (whether that's religion or non-religion) are the things that count in life.

This year has been all about: adjusting to being without so much help and it's been hard, but it's also been rewarding. Women are strong and so capable and I've felt that so much over the past few years of motherhood. My patience has new levels, my understanding has grown and I feel stretched to lengths I honestly didn't think possible. I'm working on myself now more than I ever have. We're doing well, but we're just exhausted and sick at this time of year. I'm doing well, I'm just exhausted and sick of judgement. I don't want my child to live in this world as it is now and I'm hoping to be the change I wish to see; one day a time I will judge people less and less.

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A little side note:

I'm glad that I'm stretching myself, I'm glad this way of life works for me and I'm glad that I self-question myself so much; it gives me an opportunity to appreciate that motherhood is the making of me, that this is my best and I can finally see that and appreciate it for what it is. I finally know, really know, what I want from my life and that's my son, my faith, my relationship and my family.

Taking Care.

Roman: the nurturer. He loves babies and I seem to be spying these scenes an awful lot...which is both endearing and heart breaking for me. Endearing because to know your child wants to nurture and care for people, toys, animals and every thing he can get his hands on is the sweetest. Heart breaking because I'm not entirely sure he'll ever have a baby brother or sister and sometimes I don't know how I'll answer the question that might come about that one day!

Still, with that said, I want Roman to know that sometimes I'm so overwhelmed that it might be just him. I feel so fortunate that he's here, in my life and because of that it's beyond my wildest hopes and dreams. I get a little insulted when other parents (well meaning, I'm sure) tell me that Roman isn't enough; that I need to have more children, for his sake and for my own. I want to tell them all; "Actually, he's so wonderful that I don't feel like I need to have other children!" when the truth is so...complex and personal. 

Roman being born when he was seems like a miracle to me when I weigh up all of the challenges these past 3-4 years have brought. Had we decided to wait a little longer, to be a little more settled and richer, we might be child free at this very moment in time. I'd be miserable because I was miserable with every negative test I had before I got the positive plus sign. There were nights I would cry myself to sleep because I very much wanted a baby, but it didn't feel like it would happen and when it did happen I was terrified; my life was changed forever and the marvellous journey of Roman's life began. 

Hi. This is a Blog Post.

Um so...the posts have been lacking lately. The reality is that I've been busy, busy, busy and I haven't really had a moment to edit photos and share them on here. I haven't really had time to think about what to actually do with my time because it feels as though every minute is taken by life. The thing is this: I always do more than I can manage and burn myself out. Doing things mostly single-handedly with Roman I don't have a chance to recoup any energy - lately he's been getting up stupid early and waking up from naps early, too. If I take the naps away it doesn't make any difference. If I keep him up later, much of the same. It's tiring and exhausting because there is absolutely no room for taking pictures, blogging and sometimes eating (on top of research, house work, working out my future plans). If it wasn't for Bryan coming home every lunch time I don't think I'd bother with food.

Despite all of this physical stuff I don't feel emotionally zapped at all. In fact I find my list of things to feel sad about is well...non existent. If I were feeling down emotionally I'd honestly believe I was depressed, but I'm not. I'm sitting on the surface of content with sprinklings of frustration and annoyance because life is not perfect. 

So I need more time to catch up with the photo posts. And no: in the time it took me to write all of this I couldn't have done a photo post. It takes me about an hour per post and I have a few days worth to catch up with...so no I don't have the time for that ;). Tonight I'm wrapping Christmas presents that I bought ages ago because I don't want to spend my birthday (24th December) wrapping them, like I did last year. For now I'm going to watch a programme about homes in small spaces, wrap my Christmas presents weeks ahead of schedule and when I'm done I'm going to celebrate with vegan pizza. When I'm done me and Bryan will watch Lost and the whole time I'm sitting there I'll try not to think about what I should/could be doing. 

Are you a freak like me? How do I lose some control over my control? Why am I such a perfectionist? HELP!

Catch Up.

Jan 2012: This year has sped past.

Right now life has taken on a different meaning. It's evolving into something I could have never foreseen. I'll update on that later, but for now? I'm struggling to keep my eyes open, my energy levels up and my 'little' photography project under some kind of control. And control is a strange thing. It's an odd word that means nothing in the scheme of children and parenting. 

I wrote a while ago about not wanting to rain on Roman's parade and I think that's why I've taken a back seat with the daily writing. I need to really take a step back and just see him, rather than analyse the day to day. Taking photos allows me this, but writing lets me delve deeper and perhaps to cobble together stories that are sometimes bred out of my emotions that day. This isn't always a fantastic thing ;).

I can't seem to find the energy, time or motivation required for this project, but I know one thing; I must keep going. I hate quitting what I start, especially when I'm so close to completion. We're 9 months down with taking our photos, but only 8 months updated. During the week I just don't have the time that is needed to play catch-up so my plan is this: get everything done this weekend, on Saturday, when I have a few free hours all to myself. Those hours are delicious, so enjoyed, and I spend all week looking forward to them. 

I'm just so tired these days. So, so very tired. I know what I need, but I can't get it; more help. And if I did have it? Resentment from the other side would be felt; even if it wasn't there, it's always there without people speaking about it. I push myself to my absolute limit all the time because I'd rather ruin my health than feel the quiet resentment of others. My brother is visiting us for a week and I'm really, really going to enjoy that time with him. An extra pair of un-resentful hands is always welcome here when Bryan isn't around (the time I feel over whelmed the most.)

You probably think I'm weak or pathetic, or that I don't love my son. I'm not weak because so much has happened in my life, it's built up barriers, defenses, hard skin and I work my butt off every day to provide for my family. Pathetic? It's objective. I don't think I am. And I love Roman but I am sick, I am disabled and I'm doing a lot more than I should be doing. It's ridiculous but then, that's me, it's what I'm about. I take on too much all the time and I hate to sit still without something to do. I'm one of these annoying people who constantly pushes their limits, often times suffering set backs, and I still keep going. It affords me a semi-normal/average life that a lot of people in my position don't have. I'm fortunate but I'm still blooming knackered.

Edit: As I'm writing this I'm alone, with Roman. We're watching some science programme, which is always fun. My kitchen is a mess and it looks like the next 3 Saturdays will not be mine like I imagined. I have no idea when I'll update with 366 posts, but I'm very much behind on posting - and uploading so it's going to take a lot of my time and that's something I don't have right now. Help.

Overweight.

Over the years there have been various diet trends - some really stupid, some very obvious - that really annoy me. I think the biggest one I had a problem with was the Atkins diet. Why? Well because a lot of anorexics/bulimics love Dr Atkins. Why? Well because of all the weight you lose, so rapidly, so obviously and so effortlessly. Anorexics and bulimics are used to starving themselves so the Atkins diet is perfect. Except they modify the diet to extremes average people wouldn't. And yes, it's true that if the Atkins diet wasn't in existence then there'd be something else and that there is always something else for groups of people to latch onto.


On top of this diet being the diet of choice for a large number of people with eating disorders (and no, I have no official numbers/studies to show this. I'm not calling it evidence, I'm calling it my opinion from years of personal eating disorder research on forums and getting to know individuals with these problems) the diet itself is just plain stupid to me. Why? I feel that the diet relies on a lot of quackery/pseudo science. Thank goodness that it has died down since 2002. 


Buttt...of course there always has to be more. Instead of eating sensibly and exercising society has decided, you know what, it's actually okay to be over weight. As long as you're happy, right? And without turning this into a lactivist post - where have I heard that before? Yep, people justifying their use of formula rather than being honest about their choices and just owning them. If you want to use formula, please do, I won't stop you and it's your child and your choice but I would ask one thing: please be honest about why you're making those choices, don't just opt for the 'happy mummy, happy baby' line everyone uses. Be honest. Because in your honesty those who choose/want to choose to breastfeed will get the help and education they need. And since we're living in 2012 women should be able to be honest about why they opted for formula, instead of hiding behind a screen of shame about it all. 


And with that said, how many times do you read someone saying something along the lines of: 'it doesn't matter what you weigh, as long as you are happy' either online or in your 'real life'? I can't count the times. This 'as long as you're happy' line is one of justification, of not owning the fact that you made some food choices that led you to being overweight, that you don't like exercise...whatever it is that is holding someone back from being a healthy or averagely healthy weight. At the end of the day people shouldn't be hiding behind 'don't worry, be happy' smoke screens about their weight. They should be honest, open and willing to change. 


 I think you'd be happier if your average/healthy weight gave you a better chance of a healthier life, less joint ache in your old age, didn't tire you out every 5 mins and all the other 'fun' risks that come with being over weight. The above mantra is also a slap in the face to those who are working their buns off NOT to be overweight. After all if it's 'okay' to be overweight, as long as you're happy as a clam, then no one need work out, eat well or say no to sugary foods. No one need have will power or muscles to exercise. 


And if you're thinking 'what does this skinny bitch know?' then you obviously don't know me in real life ;). I'm not a skinny bitch, never have been and don't plan on ever being one - I plan on being an average/healthy weight but I won't make any attempts at being 'skinny' - but last year I faced down the barrel of being told I was overweight by my doctor. I was annoyed that he focused on this so much, seemed obsessed with it in fact, but the reality is that being fat/overweight/chunky isn't good, for anyone. When I got home I was so incensed with the doctor that I checked my height/weight (BMI) and realised he was right. I didn't really need a doctor to tell me I was over weight, nor did I need to check my BMI I knew I was overweight, I just didn't realise the effort I'd have to put in to change that. I thought I was okay because, after all, I was happy and I loved my food so I shrugged my shoulders and didn't look for a way out.


I think we should focus on health, rather than looks, but unfortunately it is NOT healthy to be overweight - that's life. I won't turn down a friendship, a chance to connect with someone or judge someone for their weight but I won't buy into the falsehood that being overweight is healthy. 

Tears And Smiles.

I love and hate this photo. Hate because it's not up to my standards and I love it for obvious reasons.

Today was awful. One of the worst days I've had in years. I felt lonely, overweight, ugly and generally not worth the air that I breathe. That's probably not something I ever imagined myself sharing...it seems 'too much' and too private to share but I feel that way, it's life, it happens and sometimes it's not a beautiful world. I've struggled for a long time to be okay with myself, to re-think my old patterns, to re-learn bad eating habits and I've sincerely done my best to be healthy. It never seems enough on days like today and it bothered me. I expressed this through crying for an hour or so.

I think I've always been taught that there needs to be a reason for tears, for crying...and yet when people laugh they need have no reason, you're allowed to be happy but must have a very, very, very good 'excuse' or reason to cry, to express feeling sad. When I was younger my parents would always say things like, "stop crying" or "you have no reason to cry!" and while I'm sure no harm was meant I think it does inadvertently cause harm. The message is that crying is not okay or you need a reason to be sad. I recently found out that tears are good, that the body excretes stress hormones and it was my eureka moment. We're designed for it to be okay to cry. 

In my unusual (very unusual, I still have a problem with crying) hour of tears Roman was very comforting. He offered me numerous cuddles and even wiped my tears away - I was astonished by his very grown up behaviour but I felt so grateful. I've paved the way for it to be okay for him to cry and while today was beyond awful I'm so happy for that knowledge, it comforts me.

Truckin'.

I've been very careful not to overload Roman with 'boys' toys - I cringe when I see little boys  being discouraged to play with dolls, hand bags, skirts and with this in mind I wanted Roman to be free to explore the things he enjoys around him without being a major influence on his personality. And despite the things people will rudely say it doesn't mean I think he's a girl. He's a boy, there's no mistaking it, but who says boys and girls must play with (and for that matter wear) certain items? Pigeon holing someone so young based on gender is ridiculous. 

So here's a photo of my little boy who owns a grand total of two cars - both of them given by other people - wearing rocket footy pajamas and playing with a truck. My teenage self would slap my adult self, no doubt, and be totally appalled by my back pedaling. But the truth is that Roman does enjoy these toys - and increasingly is becoming very curious with trains, vans, fire engines and 'mans' (police cars) - and cutting them completely from his childhood isn't the answer, either. A little here and there won't harm his developing personality. 

He really, really enjoyed playing with this truck that was given to us - you know in case his growing pile of stuff wasn't already increasing ;). I haven't seen him so enamored with something in a long time - maybe the time a kind lady from church gave him a bunch of dinosaurs. This really wasn't the way I wanted to mother a boy, a man, a male...but it's okay, too, this truck doesn't signal the end of my morals or viewpoints on these matters. This truck is a toy, to be enjoyed by my little boy and perhaps, one day, a little girl if she should join our family.

Mothering.

136/366

This is the subject that I could write and write about forever.

Mothering. Being a mother.

It's about many things for me; a messy kitchen (not through choice), struggling and struggling to say 'help', sometimes feeling isolated in my little community of 3, a day stretching ahead and wondering at the end of it 'where did all that time go?' and mostly trying to fit everything into those days. 

Life before Roman; I think about it often but not often fondly. My life before him wasn't horrible, it was filled with purpose and with promise - a promise of all the things in front of me. I'm 26 and still so young with that age. Life was also easier in a sense that I didn't have to think ahead or worry that I'd spend 9 hours of a journey entertaining one person. In some aspects being a mother is far easier, but also far harder, than I ever dreamed it would be.

He is my life now but he doesn't consume my life - if that makes sense. We haven't spent a night apart but nor do I feel anxiety or pressure to make that happen. When it happens, it will happen just like everything else. Since the day he was born I've been sure of a few things; he has his own set of rules, his own personality and that he was and is loved by many. 

Love grows as your children grow, that's what I know. Even if they are two and a bit years old, squirming on your lap shouting 'CAARRRR!' while you're trying to document motherhood through photography with them. 

Another thing I know? Roman really likes his ride-on car toy ;).

* my hair is wet in this photo, not greasy. 

I've Pulled.

The strange world of shoulder anatomy.

Today I woke up with the worst pain in my shoulder. Perhaps, ever. I had plans of getting my butt in gear, going to Stirling and just generally killing myself at the shopping centre (hate those places when they're packed.) Well, my plans were foiled when I woke up with a pulled muscle (seriously hoping that's all it is.)


So instead I spent the day eating an obscene amount of food - honestly. Probably the most food I've ate in one day in a long time, I just couldn't stop opening my mouth and shoving food in. I think I was working on the theory that food usually makes me feel better, it may even give me a rush of endorphin's and help with the natural pain relief. I also intentionally put pressure on my shoulder for a period of time by lying on my back and then sitting forward - to relieve pain. Don't ask me how that works, it just does.


I was really annoyed this morning. Annoyed because I kept thinking to myself, "as if I don't deal with enough pain and knocks to my health, this is just what I needed." I said a silent prayer to myself as I was crippled by the pain and then my shoulder eased a bit - I could barely breathe in and out before this point the pain was so overwhelming. I did feel bad about saying a prayer because I'd fallen asleep while in the middle of my prayer on the Friday night/morning and I had a bit of a cheek asking for help when I'd left God high and dry mid-sentence the night before. 


I was also in so much pain that I had to go back and repeat sentences I'd already said, just to make sure I'd said them. Because in my cloud of pain - oh but it was 'just' a pulled muscle, wasn't it, Bryan? - I was confused and a little bit sick. Thinking about that now I should have been worried, but I was so confused about waking up, not being able to move or take a proper breath that I didn't think of muscle tissue infections or something more sinister. Now I'm just convinced my body freaked out, went into a bit of a panic that I couldn't move, and I developed anxiety over it. I'm positive it's a pulled muscle because when I run the shower head over it? I'm virtually pain free. 


Anyway, I hope I don't get judged on my vain repetitions and God just see's my praying OCD for what it is. And I also hope that Bryan doesn't pull his neck out of place again - despite me walking out of the bedroom, in a big cream puff, and then spitting out to him; "I can't wait until you pull your neck again! Then I can say to you 'oh it's just a pulled muscle.' " 


On top of this I decided it would be smart to take a week off from blogging - not just because of the pulled muscle but because of a combination of many things; one being that I want to focus my energies and efforts into motherhood. I read an important blog post (I can't be bothered to hunt around for the link) about how children don't need fancy smancy crafts as seen on Pinterest, that they don't need 10 different sensory boxes nor does my house need to look like something out of Apartment Therapy in order to state the point that my child needs me. Not a clean house with immaculate floors, a swept kitchen, up to date washing, shiny sparkling dishes in the cupboards and the full works. I also don't need to be blogging when I could be spending time with Roman - although usually I do wait until he's in bed unless I get a few spare moments in the morning to quickly update things.


What my child needs is me. Especially at this age - this age I won't be able to get back again or repair any damage I might do intentionally. My wee boy is a great wee soul, he really is. He's so content about 95% of the time, sleeps through the night (this doesn't equate to the 'great wee soul' comment, it's just a nice bonus I enjoy), always receives praise on his cheerfulness and is generally just full of life. I'm blessed with Roman as my son because goodness knows I was a very, very determined little girl; full of cheeky comebacks, antics and driving people crazy all the time with my cheeky behaviour. 


But this little boy, this content little smiler, he needs me. This blog does not need me, I give it too much of my time and I need a break. I need to sort a few things out with our landlord, I need to sort out the walls in my home (covered in mould!), I need to sort out my eternally messy room and I need time to just belong to me and Roman in the afternoons. I need my son and he needs me - the more time we spend together, the more calm he becomes. His behaviour becomes seriously altered when he is ignored or, shock horror, is left to watch TV for an afternoon. He has started calling out for me in the mornings - when all I've ever known is a daddy's boy. 


So my goal is to work in the mornings meanwhile Bryan cares for Roman and then the afternoon belongs to me and my toddler - and Bryan can work in the afternoon while me and Ro stroll in nature and the shops ;). For that afternoon the TV will be off and if it's on I will talk to him about all the small details of the show and do sign language with him - which he loves. And for that whole afternoon I will not go anywhere near the internet or my laptop. It will be shut off as soon as all my work is complete and I will put an out-of-office reply on emails. 


Afternoons will be made of mess, fun, frolics, connecting with this beautiful country we have the privilege of living in and tapping into things that catch Roman's (and my) interest. 


We've been doing this for a good while now, but lately I feel myself slacking off so that's my plan. I need to be strict because lately my weeks have felt like they drag and as though nothing ever gets completed - mainly house work. 


So here's to the week and that we all enjoy what's ahead of us - and that we remember our children need us and don't care about how successful we are in a career or how wonderful our cupcakes are. They'll remember how we made them feel and the time we spent with them - not the time we spent on Pinterest fooling ourselves we'd make those kick-ass crafts with our kids. Although I do remember the kick-ass crafts me and my mum used to make together.


We were an unstoppable force.

Not Popular. Don't Care.

Me as a fat, fat child. I loved food then and I love it now. I will never be skinny.

I've never been 'popular.' I don't know what it is about me but I am not a people magnet in the least. I'm not like my dad who can be friends with anyone and start a conversation out of the air. I don't have the nice-ness that my mum was born and blessed with - that same magnetism I lack to attract people to me just because they want to be around a nice person. I think I've always seen myself as this person with a steely edge who puts up barriers and borders to stop people getting in. I don't know how that comes off at all. I see myself as a terrible friend even though I feel as though there is a lot I'd do for people - if only I had the energy to do it all.

In high school I didn't have a problem making and keeping friends. At church and in our youth programme I was quite good at making new friends - the only catch there seemed to be that at first people didn't really like me at all, they had to learn to get to know me. To not second guess what was going through my head. So many people have told me things like 'I thought you hated me when I first met.' I think I have this problem, too.

There is also the other problem I have. I meet these amazing people and suddenly I do something (that I usually have no clue about) and they stop speaking to me. I think it's usually because our politics and other values don't match - but honestly, if I don't care, why should you? Trying to keep this blog politics free has been hard for me. It's something I feel very, very strongly about. When I turned 18 I couldn't contain myself about being able to vote - it felt like a bird being let out of a cage. So when there is a conversation going about politics I feel my head shouting to me; "DON'T SAY IT! YOU'LL RUIN ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP!" but then my mouth does other things. I can't help myself and I don't feel I should help myself - other people don't, after all...

But it's that whole 'if everyone jumped off a bridge, would you do it?' scenario. Just because someone is being unkind, mean, hurtful, offensive etc doesn't mean I need to do the same back. And just because someone is hero-worshiping their politician of choice doesn't mean I need to respond to that nonsense or counter it with my own views (hero-worshiping aside because quite frankly there are about zero politicians who are 'hero's' in my eyes.)

So, when I came to blogging with the idea of just writing what was in my head and spilling out my heart (with some censorship, naturally) I honestly didn't think anyone else would read it - least of all people I knew. Mostly I was writing for myself; I needed a space to fill up with my thoughts and impressions. When my mum started reading my blog I think I started to tailor the posts for her a little, then my aunt joined in and so I began to tailor certain posts for her, too. Then other people, strangers, started to read the blog.

I remember the little flutters of excitement I would get when someone would respond to one of my posts - even if what they said was mean, I got excited that someone gave a crap to work up a mean reply ;). But focusing on the good: the majority of replies were positive, encouraging and not just someone looking for a chance to try and network and leave me high and dry otherwise. The comments left me feeling full of respect for people, gave me faith in humans and restored my belief in friendships.

Only a handful of people (who weren't family) have truly reached out to me in life. And it's because the rest of those people didn't see who I was, not truly. I can't speak for why people have helped me and reached out to me but the only answer I can give is that they are lovely, nice people who teach me so much with their kindness. That even if I did give them chronic bitch face, make them think I hated them and was quiet around them they still reached out to me. 

Look I'm never going to be popular, and you know what? I don't care. I thought I knew the future of this blog, but I don't. And: yep, you guessed it, I DON'T CARE! :).

 I'm not sure how I want to be remembered in life but I would like it to be with kindness and love. I don't care if I'm popular or 'liked', because that's not what counts, is it? Having friends is great but it means nothing if you did nothing. 

I wouldn't even care if everyone hated me, because if I knew I was doing my best and my Heavenly Father knows I'm doing my best then that's what counts to me. If I succeed as a mother and do it without complaining too much then that's what counts and matters to me. Having a happy home, a happy relationship and 'good' marriage is what counts and matters to me. Doing my best for those around me, to the best of my abilities - that's what counts, that's what matters.

Having loads of friends and people 'liking' me because I say things that make them happy, make me fit in and make me seem like a better person when I'm not acting on it is false. 

I can only be me, do my best and accept that I will never be her or her. I only have my life to write about and if that's not popular with people or it's not interesting to read, well, people don't have to read it ;). If you don't take the time to get to know someone, how do you know you don't like them?

So I'll keep on doing what I'm doing. I'll continue on despite the trials, the problems, the health issues and I'll keep going; not giving a damn that I'm not popular, but just doing my best.

Return of the Blog (And the 366 Project.)

Last week I made an executive decision to take a break. I also wrote a long, rambling and emotional post about childhood illnesses, my paranoia's and list as long as my arm neurosis's. I'm not going to share that, not today, and instead I'm going to tell you I'm back from my break. I'm also going to share why I took the break and I really hope (and know) it will be met with understanding.


I wanted to start off by saying, 'Oh I'm so busy!' (aren't we all?) and while that is very true - and also drains me of time and energy I don't have to spend on blogging - I felt it was an excuse and masking my real reasons for not blogging. Yes I don't want to spend time writing out posts people never read or 'working' on the blog fruitlessly - trying to make 'friends' in the blog world, connect with other bloggers (and UK bloggers are a funny bunch. Every single one I've contacted never gets back to me! Especially Scottish bloggers!)


My problem is simple: I struggle with people. Emotions are tricky for me and over the years words have become tricky for me. Don't get me wrong I can very easily put my point across, I can articulate what it is I want from people...I just struggle to reach out and actually say that part. If it's for my son I have no problem, of course, but for myself I really struggle.


Currently I find myself at a very strange cross roads in my life when it comes to friends. I don't have friends I see regularly and quite honestly I don't believe I have any friends, truth be told. I don't have a friend I can call up for advice, I don't have a friend to go and see movies with and I don't have a friend who is there for me 'just because.' A handful of people do nice things for me, sure, but all of the above things to me are what a friend is. 


Outside of my family I couldn't write a list of 'friends' that I have because I would struggle to name names. I would also be embarrassed to consider someone a close friend and not be considered the same in return.


In school I had a hard time feeling connected to anyone there. I just didn't feel like I had any true friends at all and even now the 'true friends' I did have, I don't have any contact with and barely speak too - and even if I did I would feel as though they didn't really 'get me.' In short, the cliche of growing apart has manifested over the years with my many friendships I had as a child or teenager.


In London I had a great bunch of friends. People who were my true adult friends. But that's the problem, they live in London. When I moved back to Scotland, although we semi kept in touch, I did lose those friends. I know that's part of the deal and part of life, I accept it, but I did find it hard to gel or connect to people here when I moved to an area I'd known previously. 


It was terrifying for me socially because there were a lot of new faces, too. At first it didn't really bother me because I still had some of that sass inside me. Then we moved yet again. This time to another ward. I held a calling for a while but because I was so ill when pregnant - and I'm still working that sickness off and getting back to an even keel these days! - I didn't have time to form friendships or get to know anyone. I felt like all those months cooped up have damaged me socially, that I don't know how to just 'be' with people. 


It was literally me and Bryan. If I went out, it was with him. I didn't have any friends I could call up who'd zoom round to see me (something I got too accustomed with, I'm sure.) I was also going through a hard time with some family members, a settling period and adjustment time for them to get used to Bryan - all is forgiven and forgotten, but I want to put that out there. All in all it was a very lonely time for me. A lot of the time I went over our monthly phone bill - sometimes doubling it - just so I had someone else to talk too. We didn't have a phone line, had no internet (and eventually I had to stop going to the library to use it) and no TV. 


I got very anxious any time people would want to come round to see us and eventually over time got less and less anxious as the missionaries spent time with us. In fact I remember the first time they came round. I was so eager to make a good impression, just so they'd come back, that I don't think I spoke for the whole night. Ha! 


I remember when Roman was born. We were overloaded with people, with noise, with chaos and with life. I was so unbelievably happy at that time. Finally my home was full and my heart was very, very full because this is what I was used too; a tribe of people. Not one or two people but many. A house full. And while I couldn't stand it growing up and daydreamed of my own place, away from the noise, it was what I grew up craving. And in the month or so following Roman's birth it felt like a non-stop party - in a good way. A very reserved, chatty party ;).


I realised that while friendships are to be treasured, maintained and grown what is more important is family. They've been here for 26 years, they're committed to me. And frankly, they can't escape me ;). 


I also want to put in here that someone in that ward/branch reached out to me at a difficult time in my new motherhood journey - in fact many lovely people did. And if you felt pushed away by me at the time, I apologise. It was a strange time for me - I felt I had so much to prove. 


I've been anxious on this blog for some time now. Anxious in the same way I was when I moved into a new area - I saw the groups of people who were already friends, saw the various meet-ups people were having and I felt very pushed out. Not sure where to start or end. Feeling like I'm neck deep in loneliness. It got to the point where if I got a comment from someone I knew I felt let down that the people I didn't know off the blog weren't interested in what I had to say. My so-called followers, for example. But I know how blogging works. You click 'follow' on a blog because it looks cool or because you want someone to follow you back. Or perhaps you just don't have a spare moment to leave a comment. Or maybe you want to read/lurk but not identify yourself.


All of those things are okay but I will say I got swept up in a moment of insecurity. Of not feeling good enough at all. That despite my own mum and aunt being my daily cheerleaders it seemed to matter what a bunch of strangers thought over them. Insanity. The point is very clear to me now and I capture it here because I want to remind myself of this in the future:


I'm here for me, not you. 


This blog, this project and everything else that follows is to entertain those who want to read it. It's a choice to be here, it's a choice to follow me and it's even a choice whether or not you like what I say. But what I write and document in our lives is also my choice and my way. If you don't like it, you don't have to like it. 


I love my readers. And I love comments. I also love to inspire people to do something of their own; to think, to create, to take action. I glory and celebrate when people can do that because I've somehow set off a chain reaction in their brains...but lately I was feeling like all I was doing was dragging myself down. I was wasting my time on a Project that wasn't relevant. Wasn't helping me or others.


All I can say is that if you feel I'm irrelevant, good for you. Feel free to think that. You can also stop reading beyond this point because quite frankly my dears, I don't give a damn what you think :).


For anyone who got beyond that point; of course we're all relevant. Every. Life. Counts. And every way you can demonstrate that and be that example to your children, your families and your friends you should take it with both hands. My personal choice is to document a year in pictures, a promise I made to myself on New Years Eve, 2011. 


I just deal with crippling phases of low self esteem and serious pre-menstrual issues. It doesn't make me a failure, weak or a monster. I'm human, after all. I have flaws and I'm not ashamed to admit them. And I also don't have a clue how to make friends in the 'real world' or in the 'blogging world' but I won't let it defeat my purpose. And pushing that aside for now - because in a week's time I'll be on a maniacal high; full of ideas, inspiration and an over whelming urge to gut every room and organise socks into colour order - I know that things can only get better.


For now, for the next year, I'll be taking a picture every single day. If I need a blog break from time to time I'll take that, too. If I do take a break please refer back to this post and keep gently encouraging me to keep going.


And thank you: for all the comments I got. Thank you for taking the time.

Enough of Me.

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Lately I have caught myself thinking things like; does he get enough of me?

I know that one on one time is most needed at this precarious age, at all ages, but especially now. He's taking it all in, forming memories, forming links in his brain and he's learning how relationships work. I don't want to be responsible or at the helm of any damage.

In life my number one priority is always going to be my family. Me, Roman and Bryan. They come before anyone or anything. This doesn't mean my love can't grow, spread or be given to others it just means their needs, wants and desires outweigh those of anyone else. It's how my own parents were with us as children and it's what I know - and keeps me secure - but lately I have been knee-deep in working on author manuscripts. I manage to get a chunk of work done when Roman is out with Bryan (and I definitely manage to divorce work from home life, despite working from home) but there are days when I wonder what Roman thinks of me.

This Mama with a laptop glued to her knees. If he asks for a hand I will let him take me wandering. To the kitchen, the bathroom, the hall, his bedroom and sometimes we even go outside. I give him a little piece of me that no one else can touch - I give him my time because he is the one who needs it. If I run behind on deadlines I can apologise and, if it really came to it, work through the night. I lose sleep. That's it.

If I miss this toddler hood and if I fail on showing him that I can divorce work from my relationship with him, I can't get that back. I can't just say 'I'm sorry, Roman. I'm sorry I didn't give you enough of me when you needed it the most.' That won't make it okay. 

That's why being a mother is the most important thing. And it has to be. For the preservation of our society and for the sake of Roman's children, grandchildren and so on. He needs to know that yes, we have other interests and things we do outside our relationship but we put enough of ourselves into a relationship to make it work. 

We take 'hand' and we walk to wherever our toddlers lead us. Because sooner or later they won't be these sweet, impressionable mini-people. We will have wished away their whole entire childhood and then wonder where it all went. 

I remember sweet, sweet memories (and some not so sweet) of my own toddler hood. I'm 26 and remember being 2. That is a special achievement on the part of my parents, especially my own mum, who made every day absolutely magical and worth living. I want the same for Roman.

I don't ever want to question if he had enough of me or not. I absolutely want him to have enough of my time; one on one and as a family. The rest is just a bonus. This is my number one calling in life. Cobwebs, dirty laundry, author deadlines can all keep but a toddler hood cannot. You can't claw back that sweet, almost holy, passage of time that moves so quickly and so fleetingly.  

This isn't about Housework.

I got this from Pinterest (as you do.) Unfortunately I closed the window on it before I could link it.

Over on my Facebook page I asked you, the readers of this blog, if I should share this very personal (and somewhat dear to my heart) post. The reasons for not sharing are simple: it's easier to hide your feelings than to bare them. And it's also so, so easy not to talk about ex-boyfriends - especially if you used to blog about them in the past, using code names, and they got angry about this when they figured out their own code name ;). 

But there is one person in this whole equation I'd like to share this post with - okay there are you guys, the readers, - but then there's my husband, Bryan. 

So for the sake of my dignity and my ex-boyfriend's privacy I won't be sharing his name here, ever. I've already said that before, I'm sure, but I want to drive that home. I would be so grateful that if you did know his name that you also wouldn't share it. Thank you. 

Now onto the point of this whole post ;) :

Let's go back to when I was 19. I was studying for my HNC in Advertising. I was in a very unhappy relationship. And I honestly didn't feel 'complete.' I felt like parts of me were missing, scattered somewhere, and that I couldn't possibly pick up all the pieces to figure it all out.

My boyfriend at the time wasn't very helpful. He never wanted to talk about anything serious or not relating to string theories (I dated a nerd, what of it?) He put the relationship last, all the time, and with that I always came last in his list of priorities. I think I was happy with this because it meant I didn't have to try hard, either. When I think of the relationship now, 7 years later, I see fracture lines and then I see the gaping holes where everything went wrong. One selfish teenager and one selfish twenty-something year old trying to make a relationship work.

I remember there being many occasions when I knew it wouldn't work out between us, but there are a handful that really stick out in my mind. Not for any great reason, I suppose I just remember events in a strange order. 

I remember his parents had gone away on holiday and I'd come over that day to bake lots of vegan treats. I was trying out new recipes and experimenting with different ideas I had - at the time I had this idea/passion that I would one day have my own vegan food range and/or my own bakery - and he was testing these ideas.

When I'd made everything, cleaned up, stored everything in the fridge I then went home. The next day I dropped round after a college class and the kitchen was a mess again - just a general mess, with dishes and whatnot scattered all over the place. I bypassed the kitchen and went straight to the living room. My boyfriend was in a panic as his parents were due home either that night or the next morning (I forget which) and the place wasn't looking it's best.

Being in selfish mode I honestly didn't sense his urgency to clean up, nor did I want any part of it. I hadn't made the mess, that was the point back then and I didn't feel the need to help. I didn't see the need to help, either. He could do it after all, couldn't he? It wouldn't be that bad. 

I can remember, even to this day, the tension that was in the air as he cleaned in the kitchen. Maybe that's my own perceived tension, I don't know, but either way things were awkward between us.

There was a massive growing anxiety inside my belly about this, but neither of us spoke. He passively aggressively slammed things down in the kitchen as I waited nervously in the living room, staring back at a very pale reflection. I remember looking into that massive mirror above the fire place and thinking; How is this my life? 

My relationship 7 years ago and my marriage now have parallels at times, excepting that I've outgrown my selfish ways. I don't overlook or under appreciate. But the two men in question have such similar personalities and it's something I hadn't really seen until a few nights ago, in a 'discussion' about where my energy could be better used. 

Obviously this marriage is better and different - otherwise, why would I marry Bryan and not my ex? - and I'm not suggesting that it's completely the same, because it's not. I've learned from a bad relationship and I am now learning from a good relationship.

But there are parallels. 

Does that worry me? Not in the least. We fall in love with people and their personalities - you could say we 'fall in love with peoples souls' and I truly and utterly believe that. And although there are massive differences between people, there are amazing similarities as well. 

I remember a few weeks ago asking Bryan if he ever thought about how his life might have been with other people. My motivation in asking this stemmed from the fact that I was thinking about the above story I've shared with you today. I got thinking about that situation, that little slice of boring, domestic life together and thought about how every day, for the rest of my life, that could have been my life. That awkward tension. The selfishness. The silences unless they were filled with anything but talking about the relationship - about reality. 

And to be brutally frank I am grateful that was, and is, not my life. That I didn't break free from my 19 year old chrysalis and emerge trapped under the pressure of all that. And although I was sad to end that relationship a year later I was also so relieved. 

Life now is filled with different challenges but this time it's easier to breathe. I always knew I would marry young, but when I ended that relationship it was hard to see a way to that. Bryan was my 'missionary friend' (in the sense that we'd become friends before his mission and he'd gone off to serve a mission) and still needed to sand down the sharp edges of his personality. Although I'd made no secret of 'finding someone like my friend Bryan' to marry, I  didn't even put the pieces together to see that all along it was him. I thought it would be fun to maybe hang out a few times but I knew he was serious about things - and well, I wasn't. 

We all know how that ended ;). And you know what? I'm glad.

Glad I took the risk - although, really, it wasn't much of a risk...

There are things I'd improve on, sure, like making Bryan more house proud and organised but there are things I wouldn't change and things that are just 'there', naturally, God given? His desire to be married and have a family to cherish is the biggest thing I wouldn't change, especially in a world of deadbeat dads and selfish husbands.

And although there are parallels to the relationship I had 7 years ago and my marriage now, Bryan's heart and soul is not something that can be paralleled by anyone. His desire to do what is right, true and just can't be copied and it's something I've rarely seen shine so bright inside someone. He never does things he doesn't want to do - which brings about frustrations at times, but for the most part this is good. When he made the decision to eat vegan I knew he was doing it for his own reasons and the fact I was vegan was just a vehicle into his choice, making it easier for him.

But there is a point inside that remark that takes me back to my original story - there will never be any resentments on his part for the choices he makes or the things he does because his choices will come from him, informed by others. My ex used to make choices based solely on what others thought and then put his desires second to that and that bred resentment and tension. 

The resentment and tension in the relationship with my ex mounted and mounted until we had a blazing row around all our issues. We used to hurt each other a hell of a lot. I would cry more times than I would laugh. We'd argue more than we'd hug or show any kind of affection. I was scared to say what I really wanted, because I knew what I wanted most was out of the relationship - but I was scared of how he'd react to that. I was scared of where that would leave me and I honestly didn't want to lose him.

When that relationship ended I felt like a new person. But as horrible as things could be, I believed he was this great love of my life. When things were good, they were really good. But when things got ugly...they were horrendous. At the time I believed in soul mates and I honestly thought 'this is it.' But how could that be?

One person. Forsaking all others - and all other opportunities to love ever again. Yes, we all know that's what a marriage is but to me 'soul mates' doesn't make sense. What if you find your 'soul mate' and they die? What if they are abusive? Nasty? A person who is so flawed that you can't stand being in the same room as them? 

When me and the ex broke up so many people wanted all the details of the break up. And I only shared half the story with one close friend. Even at that I didn't go into any details at all. It just made it easier all round. I also avoided seeing or speaking to him for two months.

When we were together I made sure that I rarely spoke about the whole relationship and I kept my relationship a secret for a very long time. Why? Because I knew it wouldn't last and that it wouldn't work out - despite my own mum thinking I would marry him and despairing for the whole situation ;). We were together for a long time, but it was more off than on. I was also ashamed of the way  I was behaving around him and I didn't want others to tell me to get a grip.

I loved this ex boyfriend an obsessive amount, I wanted to spend every second with him - and when I did spend even a minute in his company I couldn't stand the things he said or did. He was a walking contradiction and drove me mental. He was good in times of grief or intense sadness and I remember one time I went over my ankle. He half-carried me back to his place, put my foot up on loads of pillows, ran cold water into a bowl and just took care of me. He bought my favourite things at the shops and wouldn't let me move. He took care of me. But was such a contradiction because out of everyone I've ever known, he's hurt me the most. 

We broke up because he couldn't accept the things I wanted; to be married, to have a family, to live in suburbia - although, I wasn't looking to live in suburbia - but what's wrong with suburbia!?

But I am so happy he hurt me that much, that he pushed me away so much because it got me to where I am now. It opened my eyes to how great things could truly be. And yes, I could have avoided that whole relationship (and often times I wish I had) and still have the beautiful life I have now with my husband, child and our suburban dream but I don't think the sweet would be this sweet without that horrible relationship. 

So even though there were heart aches and horrible things that happened, it all paid off. When someone tells you, one day it will all make sense, they are not far wrong. Listen to them. And wait for a bigger and better improvement in your life. 

To be with a man who not only desires, but whose goal it has been to enter into the temple* with their wife, to be sealed for eternity is a huge improvement from where I left off 7 years ago. To be with a man who desires to be with me for being me leaves me speechless. To be with a man who desires marriage and all the blessings it brings is something I struggle to put into words. And to have a child with a man who wants, dreams, hopes and desires for all these things is awesome. 

*Yeah, I know, your desire might not be a temple marriage...but you know...apply whatever your dream or desire is ;).

So when everyone told me, "IT'S TOO SOON! DON'T DO IT, YOU'LL LIVE TO REGRET THIS!", I present to you this post and my thoughts all cobbled together. And perhaps if you thought we'd rushed things or moved too quickly then things should really start to make sense by now.

I realise relationships are private but I felt inspired to share this - maybe to warn someone to think twice in their own relationship and to really think about what it is they want and if their partner is providing it.