Nourish Me:: Week Eight - I Spy

Warmth, light and beauty

My writing focus this week has been about clear-seeing. I find it amusing that it is nearly the weeks end and that I am only now really reading the material I should have started on Monday. Only now am I giving myself the gift of some time to focus on myself and my journey.

It's been a bit of a battle this week but then I think I'm still in the process of avoiding. It's interesting to note my resistance to something I chose for myself, that I longed for, looked forward to and am now finding reasons not to engage in. Clear seeing - what is that? Seeing in the moment or seeing the moments truthfully? I think I see all the negatives very clearly. I can see where I go wrong on a minute by minute basis. And sometimes it feels as if that's what I'm doing - judging myself by my failures minute after minute after minute. It's no wonder I get to the end of the day and feel exhausted and demoralised. 

Photo  via http://lipglosnletdown.tumblr.com/page/10

As you know, I decided a few months ago, to spend this year focusing on nourishing myself. I chose the word 'Nourish' as my word for the year - the word by which I would try to live and to which I would try to pay attention.  I found the first few weeks easy and could barely wait to have the next post ready to go. Then, after five weeks, the nourishment came less readily, in small bites, yet these were just as delightful in their unexpectedness. My clear seeing seems to be following this same pattern. Little moments of nourishment and little moments of awareness go hand in hand. Yet, now I am in this place of 'what do I write about?' How do I know what I am not seeing? What am I missing? How can I see those moments of nourishment in areas that may not come so easily to me. The ones that I may not even know about because I have never looked towards them? How does one train the eye (inner and outer) on that which one does not ordinarily see? I guess by paying more attention. By incorporating more pauses into my daily life. By giving myself permission to slow down and let go.

I know that in order to move to a much healthier place emotionally, my mind needs to be able to focus more on these moments of goodness, of grace, of success in my every day life - where I meet my expectations or at least get a little closer to them. I need to stop punishing myself for every little mistake and remember to focus on the things that I do and say that are right, intuitive, funny, patient and kind. My fire often gets in the way of clear seeing. It causes the world to narrow, my vision to tunnel and my actions and therefore the outcomes to remain the same - the very definition of madness. I can see all my faults so clearly as if punishing myself for them, somehow makes the mistakes easier to bear. As if by punishing myself, I won't be punished by others. By God.

Photo via http://silenceiswild.tumblr.com/ 

I have PND (post natal depression). I have talked about it many times. It's hard to see anything clearly through that. It is a filter through which my life and my mothering are scorched. PND does not really mean 'depressed' it is more of an anxiety that fills you up and jangles every stretched nerve. It keeps me in a constant state of 'simmer' so that every little bump in the road pushes me into anger. It is not easy to live with and neither am I. Part of the PND that is difficult to live with is that I get separation anxiety sometimes. When I am not with my children, and especially if I have had a few difficult days with them, as I have this week, I worry that 'God' will take them away from me. I fear their loss. It can be terrifying. It's interesting to me that I see God in this way. I was raised a catholic and I wonder if all that hellfire and brimstone has left this legacy behind? God as a judgmental, violent, jealous being who sees fit to punish those who falter, who lack sufficient faith. When I stop to really think about it, this is not how I see 'God'. It is only in those moments of fear when I strive to avert some anticipated, feared disaster. When I am bargaining. 

I am not a religious person. I class myself as spiritual I suppose. And yet, I see myself slipping into the martyr role so easily in times of struggle, begging God to forgive me for my sins. I think this ties into my uncomfortable feelings about faith. When I try to see my relationship with the Divine clearly, I cannot. It's as if I don't really know what it is that's 'out there'. I want to believe there is some divinity guiding us, but I am uncomfortable with the uncertainty. Again, I don't have that unshakeable faith that there is something, bigger and wiser than me, guiding and illuminating my path. It feels like falling to surrender to this not knowing. I am someone who needs certainty - control. Yet, in those moments I do surrender or am at peace with the not knowing, there is a sort of acceptance, a sense of peace that comes with it.

Photo from thenocturnalnest

I remember the surrender that birthed my boy into being just 10 short months ago. The day that he was born, I was 6 days overdue and had been feeling highly irritated and uncomfortable for months. That day I simply felt at peace with everything exactly as it was. I felt no stress despite my birthing assistant leaving the very next day for a three day retreat and my back-up assistant having bronchitis and not being available. It was all as it should be and I was totally comfortable with whatever happened. I didn't want to find a way to push the labour to happen. I didn't want to talk to the baby and convince it to come. I simply wanted to sit with everything, just as it was, and let it be. It was extraordinary, to say the least, for me (the giant stress-head) to be in this space and I savoured it. I truly did. I let the surrender wash over me and I was truly at peace. Just hours later I went into labour and birthed my boy into the world in a mere 8 hours, totally naturally. I remember just breathing my way through it all, trusting the process, my body, myself. Letting myself go into the waves of contractions until I could feel this power vibrating through my body. The birthing energy was so intense and so fierce and so concentrated. Yet still within it, I was surrendered to the process, breathing into it - journeying with it.  I was a proud birthing mamma - joined by some invisible thread to all the other birthing mammas that were with me on this journey, that had ever been and that ever would be.  I felt strong and indomitable and fearless. It was joyous and beautiful even in those moments of challenge that are a part of every birth. I relished every moment and still do. I have never been prouder of myself.

Photo via http://turnofthecentury.tumblr.com/

Now I find myself wondering if I could surrender to the rigours of an ordinary life in this way? To simply trust the journey to unfold without me trying to control, steer, interfere. Without standing in my own way and, most importantly, without beating myself up. Wouldn't my entire life be as joyous and as beautiful? Wouldn't I be present to the beauty of the world and even myself, if I simply allowed life to take me instead of me trying to take life and mould it into the shape I think it should be? Is it that easy to really let go? To surrender to the flow without knowing where it will take me? It was easy that day but can I surrender daily to the discomfort of not knowing and let it shape me, change me, bend me to it's will? Can I begin again without all that I think I am and all that I want to be getting in the way? And, more importantly, if I begin to do this - can I find my way back to this intention when the days are tough, the tempers are frayed and I have merely dark indentations where (my oft pushed) buttons once lived?

These are certainly things to ponder. I shall keep my eyes (and heart) open and really try to 'see' what unfolds.

And now, because I like doing this so much, I will share some more of my small nourishy bites with you:

:: watching :: myself and the world around me. Very closely.

There are fairies at the bottom of my garden

:: loving :: exploring my psyche and finding some answers. Kinda. Capturing sweet moments.

: longing :: for a break. Some time in a different environment to recharge. Some time to sleep whenever I feel like it.

found on http://perfectionturnsmeon.blogspot.com/

:: looking forward to :: finding some rhythm in my days with Beanie and Bear, to ease the tension and give us some focus for our days. My friends being within hugging distance for a while. Chai and good conversation and maybe a little knitting.

:: heading towards :: the next leg of my journey, one uncertain step at a time.

:: enjoying :: nature walks, the cold misty mornings, rain on a cold tin roof, the sense of slowing down and breathing easier now autumn is so present.

::making:: a rainbow dress for Beanie with beautiful, colourful Noro wool. Ravelry pattern here. Lots of lovely soups and hearty warm wintery food including my very first ever batch of chicken stock! I feel like such a homesteader!

:: surprising myself with :: how easy it is to make fresh stock. I may never buy it again! 

:: feeling :: a bit stormy but with patches of sunshine.

:: hoping for :: a change of programming in me 'ead, a chance to escape the rut I'm in with Beanie, a change of scene, some snow (fat chance!), someone to talk to.

found on http://weareinevitable.tumblr.com/

:: grateful for :: the beautiful photographs taken by my bestie Lausy of Warmth and Light photography. They all turned out so beautifully and she captured the essence of our family so well, it's going to be mighty hard to pick out the ones we want on the wall. And as if that wasn't enough, she gave me a back massage too. Oh that woman was sent by angels just for me.

Here's hoping that you are getting the nourishment you need. If you post about it, let me know.

Nourish Me:: Week Seven - Moment by Moment

Natural Beauty

Ah, here I am again. There hasn't been any one big thing nourishing this parched soul this week. It has again come in small yummy bites and I think it has been all the more delicious and absorbable (is that a word?) for that. 


I noticed that I kept thinking to myself that I should have something more, I dunno, weighty maybe, to write about and I kept searching for the big thunderclap of nourishment to appear. Yet there wasn't one. Maybe there won't always be. It's funny, putting myself under pressure to produce something interesting to read and trying to find something important to write about, is so not what this whole series of posts is about. I think this is what these bite sized pieces of goodness have been teaching me. That it's ok to find our pleasures in small things. A five minute knitting break, a ten minute sit down with a good cuppa, a few seconds of deep breathing and steadying. It all adds up to so much more.


And so, I will once more share my sweet nourishy bites with you.


:: watching :: The trees starting to change colour as Autumn takes delicate hold around me; hilarious new US TV series 'The Modern Family' - pure genius; fantastic new US TV series 'Boardwalk Empire' about prohibition - very engaging; and of course True Blood - Series Three - again - so good!


:: loving :: my daughters new school (and it's not even Waldorf!) - can't believe my little Beanie will be at school next February - how fast the time goes!; the decadent delights of Connoisseur caramel, honey and macadamia nut ice cream..uh oh.

Autumn Nature Table 

:: longing :: for a massage. Oh dear God let it be soon; enough hours in the day to read all the wonderful books piling up on my struggling bedside shelves - God bless our local library for it soeth rocketh; some quality sleep - you know, for more than an hour at a time; 

:: looking forward to :: I'll say it again - Winter days at the beach; mulled wine; hot chocolate; open fires. Especially since I finally got my new order of organic hot chocolate mix. Best hot chocolate EVER! Oh and so excited about our forthcoming family photo shoot with the talented and lovely Lausie of Warmth and Light Photography. Any time with Laura is wonderful and I get the added bonus of some wall worthy photographs of our whole family at one time! 

:: heading towards :: Easter and some quality time with my man; the installing of our brand new, thrifted, $20 toilet; a little painting; my new online writing course (starts tomorrow!). It's called 'Writing Our Way Home' and you can find out all about it here.

:: enjoying :: just looking at all the books on my shelves and dreaming about the wisdom they hold and some time to read them; the last of the summer strawberries and raspberries before the season finishes; evening walks with my hubble and the kidlets - one in a backpack and the other on a thrifted $2 scooter. I don't know what I love more, the scooter or the fact that is was only $2!; the few moments in bed I get before the small and smaller squirmy people invade; finally sending off some of my craft swaps (very satisfying);

Easter Bunnies & The Bluebirds of Happiness

::making:: cute little peg people for my two Easter swaps. The little guys above are going to a new home through the Four Seasons craft exchange. The bluebirds were inspired by the lovely lady at We Bloom Here. Check out her gorgeous crafty blog. Whereas these little guys

Little Flower Children still sleeping in their leafy winter beds.

are going to someone lovely from the Bits of Goodness Easter Swap. This group does regular swaps on different themes, the last one was gardens. If you're feeling crafty, I recommend this group because they swap often and they are so creative. These babies were inspired by the wonderful Twig and Toadstool. Another absolute gem of creativity.

Ready for her close up.

:: surprising myself with :: how much I don't seem to care about what I eat. Bad Kitty, smack paws!; how much I enjoy handwork and all things crafty - still not bored with it even though I'm still not that good at it!

:: feeling :: up and down. Had some seriously 'bad mommy' moments this past week, followed by some much better, much happier days. But that guilt is a killer.

:: hoping :: for my mums parcels to arrive from the UK; my new books to arrive; some time to rearrange the laundry and all of our craft stuff; that my course will help me to connect with myself more deeply.

Hoot and Little Red - for Beanie

:: grateful for :: moments of peace in my daily life; moments of grace in my emotional life; you guys.

Bugs & Dirty Little Fingers = Happiness

What you all been up to? Are you bounding into Spring or slowing into Autumn? What's been nourishing you this week?

The Good Witch of the Green Woods

Namaste

Nothing Compares To You

Wonderful (but just the tiniest bit tiring?)

Reading through other people's blogs gives me inspiration. I love the colour, the thoughtfulness, the raw edges exposed. One of the reasons I trained to be an actor was because I wanted to live all those other lives. Lives that were not open to me, that I would not choose or that I would. Lives that I admired and despised. And so it is with blogging. I visit, I enjoy, I swoon, I covet, I crave, I am inspired. And yet. Sometimes the very blogs that give me the most pleasure are the ones that can make me feel the guiltiest. Strange really. How something that can give you joy can make you feel bad about yourself.

Paint my skin with the poetry of truth.

I realise that for me it is in comparison that the folly lies. I compare my life to the (seemingly ideal) lives of women who, to me at least, are doing it 'right'. The women who grow their own veggies, make their own clothes, knit with love, clean their houses naturally, recycle, reuse, repurpose. All things I do or aspire to do, with varying degrees of success. Our veggie garden being one of my failures this year. Most of what we planted didn't grow and I didn't have the energy to give it sufficient attention. See, I WANT to be someone who loves gardening but I'm not. It's just one more thing to do. One more responsibility in a life that already feels over full. I WANT to be a grounded, down to earth mamma with nothing more pressing in my life than raising beautiful, happy children. Sometimes I can feel myself getting closer to that ideal but then my Rooster self pops up with a 'What about me?' and I slip into resentment and yes, guilt. It seems I can never convince myself that I am enough. I know myself only in the failures of my mothering journey. Never in the successes. It is a slippery slope of wanting to be more than I am and never quite getting there.

Comparing myself to these wonderful women is not inspiring. It is depressing quite frankly. I love the lives they lead. The quiet purposefulness of their approach to living and loving. I love their brilliant creativity, their beautiful prose, their still souls. Yet. I am unlike them. My soul burns with this restless fire. I long to create but when I do get the time, I waste it with seemingly important tasks which do not feed this creative fire. I am permanently dissatisfied. I have so much gratitude for the life I live and the people in it, yet it never seems 'enough'. I am part of the universal malaise that is a constant craving for 'more'. More what exactly? In lives that seem simpler, more profound with less - what is there to want, to need, to buy? And yet, there it is. In all it's shameful glory. This ache within me that wants more. More recognition, more time to myself, more time to create, more skill, more patience (oh yes please God - more of that), more wisdom, more stillness, more life, more passion, more money, more freedom, more space, more, more, more. I am never satisfied with what I have. Worse - with who I am.

I am an open book, in want of a reader.

I try. I do. I have come to this place time and again. I know myself to be a Rooster. A bossy, loud, disorganised, funny, colourful, lazy, impatient, sarcastic, know-it-all Rooster. But I want to be a swan. A glidy, quiet, silken, peaceful, compassionate, patient swan. Why? I crave peace. I crave silence. But when you go into the silence - hoo lordy - the noise that emerges could deafen you from 20 years away. And I ping pong back to reality and lose myself there with a million excuses so that I don't have to truly sit with any of it. And so, instead of 'doing' well, anything actually, I lurk around other people's blogs like some creepy cyber-stalker with one hand down my pants, and dream of being someone who home-schools their progeny, cans their own produce, eats well and takes fantastic photographs. Someone who exercises and loves it. Someone who loves their kids and never gets frustrated with them or swears bilingually at them. Someone who is splendid in her mothering and spectacular in herself.

Coming up for air.

But that's not me.


This is me:

1. Overweight but too feckin' tired to do anything about it.
2. Eats badly and craves too much salt, sugar and chocolate. And I'll admit it. I LOVE McDonalds. I do. I hate the business but love the food. Please don't hate me. 
3. Is frequently impatient and grumpy with her beloved children and hubble. 
4. Whinges frequently. (Well, I am British).
5. Is never satisfied because the grass is always greener...
6. Spends too much money (even though it's on charity shop buys and books).
7. Says 'fuck' a lot. A real lot. With 'bollocks' inexplicably making a reappearance recently. (I do like that word though. It's satisfying in the mouth - if you'll excuse the horrible double entendre).
8. Is driven crazy by her willful, beautiful, funny but seriously stubborn and feisty daughter. She  make me want to tear my hear out, cry and laugh all at the same time. Every. Day.
9. Has a terrible, unseemly obsession with books. Library books, second hand books and new books. It's an addiction. Relentless Book Sluttery. I buy them and then they sit on my shelves unread. I currently have over 65 library checkouts (though some of them are for my girl). I think I have OCD.
10. Am chronically sleep deprived yet often sit up until 1 or 2am being aforementioned online stalker of superior blogs.
11. Hates cooking and is frequently found slumped in front of pantry bulging with 'stuff' unable to come up with any kind of creative combination that is edible. That hasn't stopped me buying beautiful 'wholefood' cooking books obviously.
12. Loves the cloth nappy idea (and my gorgeous colourful itti's) but detests scraping retch inducing poop off nappies, before putting them in the washer, (over and over again), until the stains come off. The smell of ammonia is unbelievable and it is not water friendly in our drought ridden state.
13. Loves plants. Loves the idea of homesteading. Hates gardening. 
14. Loves to write but just doesn't.
15. Has grand dreams and ambitions (and is often jealous of other people's successes even though she is glad for them) but does buggar all about them.
16. Is a good friend most of the time but doesn't seem to have that gene that disposes one to be really thoughtful. I wish I did. I think of things after the fact and then am sad that I didn't do more.
17. Is often creatively inspired and excited about some new idea or project, but then gets bored or discouraged if its too hard or if I can't 'get it' immediately.
18. Is lazy.
19. Irreverent.
20. Judgmental.
21. Loves her bed more than her husband and children. Almost.
22. Let's her girl watch too many movies in an effort to have a moment to herself. (Or to sneak a nap with the wee bear).
23. Is guilty of setting the bar way too high for herself in just about every area of life.
24. Doesn't know how to adjust bar.
25. Hates reading manuals. To anything. But has more parenting books that Barnes & Noble, Angus & Robertson and Waterstones combined.

The Naked Truth

However, this is also me:

1. Funny.
2. Excitable.
3. Fun (at least, I used to be).
4. Loves Nature and yes, that now includes camping. Who knew?
5. Loves books.
6. Loves poetry, literature and writing - even if she doesn't have time for any of them.
7. Loves her man and her babies. A lot. A very lot. An inescapably, frighteningly, overwhelmingly lot.
8. Hates letting people down.
9. Gives generously when the mood strikes.
10. Loves op shops (thrifting) and would throw them down by the fire and make sweet love to them if they were people.
11. Is eclectic and let's face it, a wee bit eccentric.
12. Is passionate about many things but mostly about being a good mamma.
13. Is very creative. Even if what I make is shit by my own standards.
14. Talks a lot but is learning to listen well.
15. Occasionally takes great photos.
16. Loves craft of any type.
17. Is deeply spiritual but lazy.
18. Always has the best of intentions but frequently falls short in their execution.
19. Is soft hearted, kind natured and compassionate.
20. Cries easily and often.
21. Is dramatic.
22. Is very adaptable and quick to pick up new things.
23. Isn't afraid to try new things.
24. Is charismatic, charming and engaging.
25. Is inspiring.
26. Is brave. Often. Because life often scares me.
27. Tries really, really, REALLY hard.

So - there you have it. The truth in all its gory or glory depending on your perspective. I know that there is a way to find the balance and to not be so hard on myself all the damn time. I am not saying I know what that answer is but at least I'm searching for it. I'm trying. Even if some schools of thought think that trying is wrong.

The Doors of Perception

I am calmed by the sea. The flow of the water reminds me to breathe in and breathe out. And that really, that's all there is. Breathing, watching, walking, eating, loving, sharing, talking, listening, reading, hoping, wondering - it's all just one long extension of the whole breathing thing. And so I lurk and I read and I compare and I feel sad and then I remind myself that this is not all that I am. I am also the second list and that I have parenting wins sometimes. I remind myself that no-one could ever say I didn't try. I know that my roosterness will come in handy one day, I just don't know how yet. And I promise myself to spend less time looking through rose tinted glasses at other people's lives and spend more time living mine. Imperfect as it is.

So there.

Now that's more like it.

All photos courtesy of Bohemian Shoebox 
Please go there to see where the originals came from. Thanks.

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual inspired by Soulemamma. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

Medicating Mamma

I suppose it's been coming for a long while. I resisted and resisted and resisted but finally the day came when I simply held up my hands and said "Ok. I'll try it. I've tried everything else and nothing is changing. Maybe this will help." And so here I am. One week into taking SSRI's to control that nasty PND Fairy who has made another appearance. In some ways I'm honestly glad. The decision has been made and while it was agonising making it, it is less so in its execution. I get up, I take a tablet, I feel better. That's it really. The hardest part was trying to figure out what was worse. Psychologically damaging my kids with the rampant anger that I can't seem to figure out OR potentially psychologically (or physically) damaging my boy by taking the anti-depressants (a small amount of which comes through the breastmilk).  There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about the long term effects of this decision on my rapidly developing wee boy. It worries me. Truly. I just don't think that the kind of mother I was rapidly becoming - one that lit up like a flare at the slightest irritation and shouted more than she talked - was going to do him any good - and I worry all the time about how much damage my emotional rollercoaster ride has cost Lily. So this was the only reasonable decision to make. When your naturopath tells you there is nothing else for it, then I suppose you have to sit up and listen. I was on the strongest natural remedies there were and it wasn't even touching the sides. Besides, I don't want to miss the day-to-day joys of life with my kids and I don't want to put any more stress on my marriage. I need to give my kids and my all too understanding husband a break from 'cranky mommy' and find my softer, funnier side again. She's been missing for far too long.

Can I tell you a secret though? I feel weak. I do. (And this is in no way a judgement on anyone who is, like me, seeking mediation to cope with life). But I look at the life my mother led (with four kids not just two) and I look at the life my sister leads with 6 kids (4 adopted, two natural - one of whom has ADHD, ADD, Aspergers and is a high functioning Autistic) and I wonder why, with all the love and support I have (that they did not) that I am not coping better. I know people say not to compare yourself to others but it's hard not to. These are the women of my family and I feel like I am letting them down. That I a letting myself down. I mean, I should be able to do this without medication, right? It's just raising two children. I am privileged enough to not have to work and can be with them every day. They are wonderful, beautiful, funny kids and I adore them. Yet. I struggle. Why? I don't know. I can blame my childhood sure but isn't it up to us how much we let the past affect our future? I'm sure there is some deep seated resentments about mothering and whatnot but again, I chose this life. I am blessed to have two healthy, gorgeous babies to love and cherish, so why is it often so hard. The reason I decided to take the medication was because I found myself thinking that Beanie would just be better off without me. I felt for the first time that I just wanted to run away. I have NEVER felt that way before. Never. Admittedly, that day was a bad one but I took Finn and I got in the car and I truly was not sure I was ever coming back. I drove around the hills in the dark for over two hours and when I got back my hubby and my girl were waiting for me. Beanie wouldn't go to sleep until I came home. And I felt ashamed of myself for wanting to leave her.


The guilt that comes with motherhood is immense for some of us. The fear that our mistakes will make permanent marks on our children's childhood and lead to terrible emotional and psychological problems later on, is truly terrifying. The shame that comes with each mistake. The pain of knowing that you have made yet another scar on a little life. These are the things I can't live with. I don't want this to be my mothering legacy. I want to do it better. I want to see their faces light up when we play. I want to see them reach out to me for help or a hug or just because I'm there. I want them to know that their mother loves them and I want to show them that love by being here, by being fully present in the moment with them. I want to at least start to find the joy again because four years is a long time for it to be gone.


So far so good (if you ignore the nausea and the slightly squirrely tummy). It seems to be helping a little bit every day. I find myself not so anxious, not so irritated. Believe me when I say that this is a big improvement. I got through a whole week last week and barely shouted at all. Again- big change. Lily's behaviour has improved. I'm not sure if that's in response to me relaxing or because she's finally coming out of the stubborn, rude, oppositional place she's been residing in for the last year and a bit. It's hard to know but it isn't hard to appreciate the changes. Maybe I should have done this sooner. No doubt there will be guilt around that if I think too hard about it. I tried so hard to do it any other way but here I am. At least there is the possibility of change here right now and I'm very grateful for that. Maybe the lesson here is learning when to ask for help and know which help to take. All I can do is wait and see.


In reality, life moves along so unbelievably quickly and I don't want to miss any more of it feeling bad. I mean look at them. Look at how much they have changed already. Blink and it's gone. 

Lily's fourth birthday party.

My gorgeous violet eyed Finn - 5 months (photo taken by Laura of Warmth and Light Photography). 

Me, tired but happy. As opposed to just tired.

So I guess this is where I am at right now. For better or worse this is the decision I have made. There is a lot of work ahead of me - inner as well as outer - but I ask only for a pause in my head between the spark and the flame - just long enough to blow it out before it consumes me.


That's not too much to ask, is it?