Obviously, I never wanted my first blog post of the year to be about a pandemic. But here we are, in the middle of the coronavirus outbreak, and here we could be for quite some time. I keep returning to the question, When will things return to normal?
Since the start of winter last year, with its fierce weather – the terrible storms, the flooding – as well as university strikes which made my husband’s life, and hence our family life somewhat up-and-down, I looked to spring, hoping that a smoother time would be ahead. But smoother hasn’t turned up.
As the news came in, day by day, moment by moment, I found myself stopping in the middle of a task, anxious, panicky feelings gripping my throat. What was the point of my publishing work? What was the point of me hoovering this carpet? What was the point of me writing? What was the point of me cooking dinner? Worries about getting ill, loved ones and friends being ill, whole nations getting ill, the globe becoming one giant lockdown with not a loaf of bread or toilet roll to be had, not to mention the economic knock-on effects, threatened to engulf me. Perhaps it would be better to take myself off up to bed and quietly implode.
Ah, hello OCD, my old friend. You’ve come to talk with me again.
Now, me and OCD go way back. Like, to my mid-twenties. To be quite frank, it’s a shitty companion. Thankfully, since I became a mother it has taken a backseat in my life (I put that down to the birthing and breastfeeding hormones – which lower stress – as well as the weight of responsibility motherhood brings. For me, putting someone else’s needs before my own helped free up my brain to focus on the reality before me, not the unrealities in my head). But in times of stress, or (weirdly) even in times when everything seems to be good, it flutters around the edges of my mind, tempting me with its sickly sweet poison. In these moments I feel as though I am only ever one thought away from the abyss. And that is truly frightening.
Yet in the past year and a bit, I’ve seen it from another perspective. I’ve been a mum to a child who has inherited my tendency to fear change and crave control over the anxiety change brings by adopting habits, tics, routines. And if those compulsions are broken all of us as a family have to endure an emotional storm.
Of course I blame myself – stupid, stupid genes! – but apportioning blame doesn’t move me forward. (A parallel with coronavirus here: my kids have been asking over and over again, Where did it start? Who started it?How did this happen? We may have answers, but how does that help us to deal with the here and now?)
So, putting aside my son’s yoke of inheritance, over and over again I’ve found myself in the situation of having to figure out ways to help him out of the mental black hole. And it’s been hard, ever so hard. Particularly so when I’ve felt myself slipping into that black hole too. But, in a way, we’ve helped each other. When he’s having a bad time of it I am there for him. Offering empathy, words of encouragement, some ideas for how he can “unstick” himself. Boundaries. And when anxiety threatens to overwhelm me, and I feel myself grasping for the lifeboat of mental routines, I think of my son; of the things I say to him when he’s in the thick of OCD. And with each OCD battle he fights through – and wins – he inspires me. If he can do it. I can do it too.
I remind myself that control is an illusion. That beyond our own actions we have no control over our lives, or what may happen “out there” in the world. And that the lifeboat of routines is a mirage. For change is ever-present, and we must bend and flex our thoughts quickly to each new situation we find ourselves in. Rigidity in thought – of the short-term comforting routines or tics or mental compulsions – does not serve any person well in the long-term. We need to let go of the “bully in our brain” (as my son calls it) – the bully that is both to be kept at a distance and accepted as simply a facet of our expansive imagination – and release ourselves from its grip. Though it is easier said than done. (Practise helps.)
Part of my anxiety around coronavirus, and its implications on everyone’s lives, stems from how quickly things are changing. Again and again, I am instructing my mind to bend and flex and adapt, and to sometimes stay very still, powerfully still – the way a gymnast must sometimes tense all their muscles to hold a pose – so that I can once again move forward, thoughts-wise, with positive purpose.
Like many other people, I’m trying to keep my anxiety levels to a minimum by doing less of certain things (e.g. social media scrolling “to see what the latest is”) and doing more of the things I love: talking and playing with my family, my publishing work, writing, reading, creating art. Even hoovering can be a pleasant occupation when I am in a positive frame of mind! And acting in positive, helpful ways, as well as interacting with those in my community and showing them my appreciation, always makes me feel better.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Of course I cannot eliminate worry from my life. But I will do my best to bring it down to sensible levels, and I will do my very best to bend and flex, adapt, tense… let go.
Recently on social media, people were spreading a little positivity by sharing some of the things they’ve done in their 40s of which they’re proud. I didn’t take part at the time although I wanted to because a) I’m too slow on the uptake and b) the contrarian in me doesn’t like to rush along doing whatever everyone else is doing at that particular moment. But on reflection I thought it a lovely – and inspiring – thing to do (my writer-publisher friend Tracey Scott-Townsend has published a fascinating series of ‘What I did at 50’ posts on her blog and she’s had a brilliant response to that).
Anyway, as I was contemplating the necessity of updating my writing publications page on this blog I realized that there were several things I’d done since I turned 40 of which I was proud. And what struck me about them was that about two decades ago I wouldn’t have imagined myself doing or achieving any of those things.
Although I’d always envisaged marriage and children being a part of my life I never really had a clear vision of what I’d be doing in my 40s (back then 40 seemed like a lifetime away and well, just a bit decrepit, yeah?!). I thought that going down the science path would be the best thing to do because of my keen interest in the subject, and I have (in general) always thought science to be a powerful tool that could be wielded for good, in terms of society and the environment. Also, jobs in science seemed plentiful.
But, at 28 I discovered that the career part of the science career wasn’t really for me. However, I made a new discovery – that I had an aptitude for teaching (others as well as myself) and I had a desire to write (I’d always been writing poetry on and off, but I began my first novel at age 28). So I taught science instead. Then marriage and children followed soon after, and a much greater appreciation for what it takes to be a mum, raise children and run a household. I stopped teaching before my eldest daughter was born. But throughout those tumultuous early months – and years – I kept writing in snatched moments. The end result of that newfound appreciation of breastfeeding, mothering, and writing was my small press Mother’s Milk Books. So that, I suppose, has to be the first of the things I’d never expected myself to do.
Running an indie press
This September Mother’s Milk Books will be eight years old. I still feel as much enthusiasm about producing new books and publishing authors now as I did at the start of the journey (though I must admit the admin side of things seems to have exponentially increased – and admin really isn’t my favourite!). The extra bonus of running the press is that I’ve learnt so much about writing and the publishing industry – and how to get a foot in the door – that I now teach others on this subject (through workshops etc.). I’ve mentored and supported a number of up-and-coming writers and poets and I love seeing them grow and improve in their writing.
At a recent ‘How to Get Published’ workshop I ran for Writing East MIdlands.
Blogging with my husband about all things publishing/writing
I always thought that working with my husband would be fantastic, but it hasn’t been until recently that we’ve put two of our interests together – my interest in making the workings of the publishing world more transparent and his interest in the neuroscience and psychology of motivation, procrastination and productivity – and created a website called The Book Stewards. So if you’re a writer who’d appreciate some insider information – into the publishing world, and the workings of their brain, do check it out!
Getting up early to write
Goodness me, I never thought I’d be the kind of person who’d harp on about the wonders of getting up early and writing, but this year I finally got round to sticking to a new work schedule which involved getting up at around 6.30 a.m. and writing for about 45 minutes before getting breakfast ready for everyone. I CANNOT say that I jump out of bed eagerly, going Wahoo! but, still, I do drag myself out of bed and, bleary-eyed, get some words down on the page. The toughest thing about it is probably having to drag myself away from the laptop to make breakfast when I’m in writing ‘flow’. The two nicest things about this is: 1) how comfortably silent the house is and 2) the cat joining me and curling up beside me.
Weightlifting
When my husband first got into weightlifting a few years ago I wasn’t impressed by the sheer volume a set of weights and dumbbells takes up, but then I learnt about the whole HIIT (high intensity and interval training) from Joe Wicks, of which weights is a part, and it appealed to me because 1) as a way to lose weight and tone up, scientifically speaking it makes sense and 2) I’ve always had the build of a somewhat – ahem – cushioned, Amazon warrior so why not play to that? Also, being able to lift something that looks ridiculously heavy is weirdly pleasing.
Jogging
There was a period in my mid-twenties when jogging was one of my weekly exercises, but, sadly, a dodgy knee brought that to an end (most likely due to my hypermobility). I genuinely thought I’d never run again. At the start of this year a neighbour-friend of mine was doing the Couch-to-5K programme and asked if I wanted to take part. My first reaction was that of horror. I couldn’t run! My dodgy knee! My wobbly belly! My complete lack of running finesse! Anyway, to cut a long story short, six months on I’m still running for 30 minutes twice a week and it’s simply become a thing I do. I still worry about the dodgy knee (from time to time it gives me warning twinges), and every time I set off I think that what I’m about to do is utter madness, but somehow I get through the madness and the twinges and get to the end of the 30 minute jog, very proud of myself.
Marbled leggings and a 25-year-old Cure t-shirt is THE thing to be wearing while jogging.
Having a story in the Best of British Science Fiction 2018
Although I have a background in science I’m relatively new to writing science fiction (about three or four years). To tell the truth, I feel as though I’m somewhat an imposter in this field because I didn’t spend my childhood reading all the scifi classics and Golden Era novels (though I did watch a lot of science fiction on the screen – Doctor Who, Star Trek, Star Wars, Bladerunner and Inner Space immediately spring to mind etc.).
But I guess all that TV/movie watching paid off because I’ve now had several short stories published by scifi magazines and even managed to have one of those stories picked up for the Best of British Science Fiction 2018, (now available for pre-order), which delights me no end. In the meantime I’m catching up with my scifi reading and loving it! Of course I’m continuing to get a frequent number of rejections, but my son’s words of encouragement mean everything to me and keep me going during the nth rejection of the month.
‘The Future of Science Fiction’ – a story by my son in which I have the starring role!
Making art
Technically, I began my attempt to make art a few years before hitting 40, but I feel much more like I’m hitting my stride when it comes to art now. (Although I’m not entirely sure that what I am creating could actually be classified as art – Grayson Perry’s book about what art is or isn’t, Playing to the Gallery, definitely made me reconsider my own work.) BUT I am having immense fun drawing, painting, doodling, papercutting, art glass making and inking, and it’s my go-to activity if I need to slow down and get my head straight. And really, art or not art, it’s the joy of the process that matters.
Actually, that can be applied to all the above. They’re not about the destination, but the journey.
Like ice-cream, every summer holiday has its own particular “flavour”. Now that both my children have returned to school and I’m back from doing the morning school run I’m reflecting on the flavour of the six weeks that have just now passed.
There’s been a lot of sweetness and fun, particularly when on the odd occasion (they do happen!) that both my children have got on well and simply got on and played imaginative games. With the upcoming Queen biopic, Bohemian Rhapsody, which I’m excited about, we’ve been listening to Queen a lot, so impromptu rock concerts have been the thing… Oh, and we discovered that the lyrics to ‘We Are The Champions’ are very flexible and can be rewritten to suit any and every occasion… cue youngest belting out “We want our doughnuts, my friends”. You get the picture.
There’s been work too, as I made sure that both my children did their daily ‘mummy school’. (Basically, each summer they get to set their own timetable – which they love doing – and then I help them with my own version of schoolwork. It ensures that they haven’t completely forgotten their maths or English basics so that they feel more confident about their lessons when they do return to school.)
The Dirty Bertie series of books have been the books of the holidays. I think we’ve almost exhausted them all, but we’re still keeping our eyes open for more in the series at the library.
It’s been hot. Ice-cream meltingly-hot. Well, apart from the one week we went to Wales when hot was suddenly unfashionable…
Coffee shop stop-offs (to help keep me caffeinated and semi-alert), trips to the park, float fun sessions at the swimming pool, as well as visiting charity shops to buy cheap DVDs for various movie nights have also been regular, welcome features. And cat Top Trumps and doodling games have kept us busy when we’ve been off the screen (we all love playing Minecraft and watching YouTube).
There have been some worries though too. Mostly about what the new year at school would be like (my eldest making the move up to secondary school). Cue lots of empathy from me and her dad, but also lots of reassurance. And chats about how life is a lot about accepting change, but also how change can bring about new growth.
Thankfully, my daughter’s first day at school (yesterday) seemed to go well, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that “big” school will continue to be a positive experience.
Obviously, the autumn days will bring us more cool weather and shorter days, and although I always bemoan the fading of the light, I am feeling excited about the season ahead. I have lots to keep me busy: my publishing work, my new Book Stewards blog, as well as a whole bunch of writing projects to be getting on with (mostly to do with science fiction and fantasy). Also, I have plenty of new books I’m aching to read and I have a desire to get out my colouring pencils again…
Wishing you all the best for your new season start!
As we near the end of the year I can’t help but look back. 2017 was a big ‘mothering year’ for me as my firstborn, my daughter, turned 10. A big milestone – for her, for me. It’s taken me a while to process this! So I wanted to share my reflections, but to sort them into two sections – a serious part, and a less serious part. Feel free to read one or the other, or both. 🙂
The new bike, photo by Marija Smits
Reflections Part 1 (The Serious Part)
1. Strength
When my daughter (who is a highly sensitive person [HSP] like me) is worried about something – some upcoming event, some friendship issue – I always tell her that she is strong; that she can get through it and cope. She always disagrees, saying something like, ‘But I don’t feel strong!’
I do find it difficult to articulate how we all have this inner strength (especially when externally we don’t seem “strong” – physically, or even socially) but I show her the evidence – reminding her of times in the past when she got through difficult or stressful events. That seems to help (a bit). But this reflecting on her past also reminds me that my decade of mothering has helped me to tap into my inner strength. As a quiet, highly sensitive person, I often feel weak and wobbly – not strong at all – and then I remind myself: hey, you gave birth! That wasn’t “nothing”. And don’t forget the fights you fought on behalf of your baby girl and yourself: to continue to breastfeed when nearly everyone thought you were “cuckoo”: to continue to co-sleep and keep close to your girl for years and years… And the “fights” continue although, of course, they are different, centering mainly on school/academic issues, friendship and social issues. I don’t welcome the fights, but at least I can tell myself this: you are strong. You can handle this.
2. Empathy
When times have been acutely tough I’ve had to remind myself: hey, you’re the grown-up here. Deep breaths, tapping into the inner strength that I mentioned earlier, and digging deep for the empathy that’s always there but may have vanished temporarily for any number of reasons – sleep deprivation, hunger, lack of time to oneself – have absolutely turned a high-stress situation around. Humour, too, can be an amazing way to alleviate (or at least pause) a fraught situation. And this ‘honing’ of empathy has benefitted me in all areas of my life.
3. Compassionate Communication
For me, one of the biggest benefits of becoming a mother has been the discovery of my tribe (a group of like-minded mothers). I found my tribe when I went to La Leche League GB breastfeeding support meetings. And then I went on to become a voluntary breastfeeding counsellor. Part of the training to become a counsellor involved me learning about compassionate communication. Oh my goodness! Learning about this stuff was absolutely eye-opening; it really has made me aware of all the barriers to clear communication, and how to shift those barriers, and to also find the middle ground between passive and aggressive ways of communicating (it’s called asserting). For an HSP who finds it difficult to speak up and out it really has been a godsend. Check out my thoughts in the ‘life-changing books’ section of the blog if you want to know more.
4. Trusting your Instinct/Learning to Let Go
Gosh, this one’s tough! Again, part of maturity, to becoming a ‘whole’ individual – a true wild woman – is knowing when to let go. Accepting that your children have to grow, step away from you, fight their own fights, and make their own way in life is tough. This can feel absolutely heartbreaking, but it’s also necessary. The key is to listen to one’s own inner voice – a mother’s instincts have been well honed over time (we’re talking millennia here) – so we instinctively know when our child is, or isn’t, ready for taking on a new challenge. The trick is to listen to that voice and to be true to it (which can be especially hard when lots of other people have loud opinions that contradict yours).
Toddling days, photo courtesy T. Bellamy
5. Acceptance
Some parents have very specific ideas of who their children should be. They may have laid out whole career/life paths for them. It’s understandable to make plans and have dreams like these, but the reality of who our children really are often ‘upset’ these plans. That’s when a flexibility of outlook, open-mindedness, and non-judgement all come into their own. Our child may not be the genius academic/Olympic medal-winning gymnast/maths wizz that we wanted/expected them to be. What then? Accepting our children for who they are, just as they are, and supporting them in their own life choices is one of the greatest gifts we can give them.
6. Self-care
In the early years children’s needs – to be fed, to be held, to be close – are frequent and intense. This is natural. But meeting those needs (particularly without support from extended family/friends) can be tough, just because of the intensity and frequency of the needs. Asking for help can be difficult but often essential. When I was in the thick of cluster feeding, frequent night waking and round-the-clock nappy changing it felt as though this stage in my life would never pass. But of course it does. I now focus far more on meeting my needs. Like my need for exercise, eating healthy food, time for creativity, time with my husband. I remind myself that all these things are about investing in my children too. I want to stay as healthy (in mind and body) for as long as possible so that I can enjoy watching my children grow into adults; and maybe go on to have children of their own.
7. Boundaries
Another tough one; particularly as it’s something that I find hard in my day-to-day life too. Boundaries are about setting sensible limits for the kids (for instance, on things like screen time, eating junk food/sweets) as well as the precious ring-fencing of family time, sleep time etc. but of course this principle extends to other things – like when friends/family/colleagues impose themselves upon you and try to move past the boundaries you’ve made that keep you comfortable, safe, happy. That’s when saying things like, ‘no’, ‘enough’ or asserting in a diplomatic way (things that doesn’t always come easily to me) is ever so valuable. This takes practice, but it can be done, and will make your life better because YOU are the one in control. Sometimes saying ‘no’ to a social event/volunteering gig/work thing (so that you, the parent, have some precious time to yourself), or saying ‘no’ to your child when they whine for sweets is actually the most loving thing that you can do for yourself or your child. But it’s tough to do. And you’ll often have to deal with the immediate (and possibly) spiky consequences, but in the long term it will pay off.
8. Love
There’s nothing quite like going through the intensity of parenting to make you look at your partner with fresh eyes. To see their strength, their empathy, their fierce love is really quite something. I will always be grateful for having my husband alongside me in those intense years of parenting our babies. And I am glad to continue to have him alongside me as we venture into the future, the challenges of parenting not as intense perhaps, but still just as challenging, because of their complexity. Plus, I just happen to really really love him.
Reflections Part 2 (The Less Serious Part)
1. Baby Wipes
If I hadn’t become a mother I may never have discovered baby wipes. Seriously, they are amazing. Everything can be cleaned with baby wipes – dirty bottoms, dirty faces, the oven, the floor, kitchen surfaces, car upholstery, even the cat! Everything. Genius. (Oh, and for very tough-to-remove carpet stains I can recommend Mr Muscle oven cleaner.)
2. Playground Frolics
Children give you a good reason to have a sneaky go on the swings, or roundabout, or see-saw, or whatever. (You know, so that you can check that the equipment’s safe and fun.) Just don’t get too carried away. A toddler crying because mummy won’t share is not cool.
3. The Perfect Excuse to…
not go shopping, or out, ever again. (Introverted HSPs who could happily stay at home 24/7 will understand what I’m talking about.) Also, the perfect excuse for being late. Like every single time.
4. Computer Games
I often justify playing Minecraft by myself because my son asked me to ‘do a little something’ in our world. So what if the ‘little something’ turns into a whole afternoon mining (or killing zombies)? God dammit, sometimes you’ve just gotta do what you gotta do to help your kids out.
5. Getting into Art/Building Humility
Okay, this one’s a tiny bit more serious, but there’s really nothing like doodling alongside your kids, having fun with colouring pencils/felt tip pens/paint and allowing yourself the opportunity to create crap (or otherwise) pictures. Who knows, you may grow a whole new career out of it, just like my talented friend Doodlemum did – or, like me, you could just be very pleased to have created something you wouldn’t ever have dreamed of creating a decade ago.
And as an aside, it was just the other day I realized that whenever I draw an idealized version of myself (see below) what I’m actually doing is drawing a picture of my daughter in the future. Seeing myself more as the background, as opposed to the foreground, is a humbling (and useful) experience.
At the swimming pool, by Marija Smits
A realization, by Marija Smits
6. Cake
The past decade has seen me ingest a huge amount of cake. You see, there’s always so much of it about (at toddler groups, mums’ meet-ups and breastfeeding support groups, as well as school which regularly holds fundraising events where baking and cake stalls are a feature). But I’ve done my duty manfully (or, rather, womanfully…?) and eaten ALL THE CAKE in aid of many a good cause.
7. Time Pressure
Seriously, there’s nothing like becoming a parent for having the realization that time is precious. Before I became a mum I had oodles of time – huge bin-bag sized heaps of time (which I filled appropriately i.e. with junk). Pre-motherhood I used to talk about how busy I was to write because I had work and house stuff to do, oh, and watching telly and socializing and faffing about. Then I became a mother and realized that, actually, this is what ‘no time’ looks like. Round the clock care for a tiny human being hugely contracted my available time to create. But… what’s amazing about motherhood is the sheer ingenuity of mothers who magic time out of the day to create. It might just be a scrawled five lines of poetry while your toddler happily plays with blocks (though realistically we all know they’re more likely to be pulling off books from bookshelves/busy flushing your phone down the loo/ingesting cat food or Geomag balls etc. etc.) but that poetry making is precious. And worthwhile. If you keep at it, you’ll soon build a collection. And even watching CBeebies can help to motivate you to become a poet/poetess. If Abney from Abney and Teal can do it, so can you.
p.s. I am not endorsing letting your toddler ingest cat food or Geomag balls. Both have scant nutritional value, and as someone who’s spent a worried 18 hours from the said ingestion of a Geomag ball to its evacuation (and subsequent rifling around in poo to recapture the damn thing) it’s really not worth it. But judging by this thread on Mumsnet I am not the only mum who has had this experience!
8. Christmas
Ah, this one’s bittersweet. For me, Christmas was never quite the same since my dad passed away (I was fifteen when he died). But now Christmas is something I look forward to again. It’s just so wonderful to see the grins on the faces of both kids as they wake up on Christmas Day, sleepily muttering, ‘It’s Christmas!’ And luckily, Father Christmas happens to be rather good at packing my stocking with lovely goodies too.
***
And lastly…
…a THANK YOU to all the kind readers of my blog who continue to pop along, read, share and comment on my eclectic posts. Wishing you all a very Starry-You Happy Christmas and all the best for 2018!
I’ve never liked horror – films or books – and the few famous films in that genre that I did watch when I was in my teens/early twenties (Silence of the Lambs, Seven) pretty much freaked me out so much that I quickly realized that although a lover of fantasy and science fiction, horror was never going to be my thing. Two decades later I haven’t changed my mind on that. Which is why I think my husband gets confused by my love of Halloween. So recently, I’ve been trying to figure out what it is about Halloween that I enjoy so much. This is what I came up with:
1) Halloween means different things to different people. Obvious, I know, but as an HSP (Highly Sensitive Person) I am really not into Halloween as ‘night of horror’ (or the accompanying gruesome, horror film-derived masks/costumes, or horror film watching). But, linked as it is to Samhain, what fascinates me about Halloween is that it is considered to be:
“…a liminal time, when the boundary between this world and the Otherworld thinned. This meant the Aos Sí (pronounced /iːˈʃiː/ ees-SHEE), the ‘spirits’ or ‘fairies’, could more easily come into our world and were particularly active.” From Wikipedia.
As a lover of all things fae, uncanny, otherworldly, (and the pleasantly spooky, but not horrifying, spine-tingling that otherworldliness affords) this is pretty much my thing.
Spirit of the Night, by John Atkinson Grimshaw
2) Dressing up! As an HSP I hate getting out of my comfy tracky bottoms and into something… less comfortable. But as a lover of art and all things beautiful I relish the idea of ‘me as art’ i.e. transforming myself into something otherworldly. My kids enjoy this bit too.
3) Pumpkin carving. Another chance to get creative, but with fruit! (And to also light lots of cheery candles.)
Pumpkin eating pumpkin, photo by Marija Smits
4) Halloween baking. Over the years I’ve made my fair share of pumpkin soups, stews and pasta dishes (not to mention the sweet treats). Again, my creative side likes the opportunity to cook something I normally wouldn’t cook.
5) The chance to chat to neighbours. Okay, as a prefer-to-stick-to-the-comfort-of-my-own-home HSP I’d rather stay in my house than take my kids trick-or-treating, but going trick-or-treating does push me out of my comfort zone to actually talk to people. It helps me to put a ‘face to a house’ (if you see what I mean) and to remember that the majority of people are actually pretty kind and go out of their way to make little kids feel like the stars of the (Halloween) show. One lady always gives us apples as well as sweets, and I’m pleased to say that my kids seem to value her jewel-red apples as much as the sweets!
6) Recently, I’ve enjoyed finding out more about the Day of the Dead (my daughter’s been particularly fascinated by this) and making links between all the global Halloween/All Souls Day festivals as well as Skeleton Woman/Lady Death, from Women Who Run With The Wolves, by Clarissa Pinkola Estes (Skeleton Woman being another facet of the Wild Woman). It’s important to acknowledge the ‘life, death, life’ aspect of our lives, and nature, and Halloween is one of the few festivals to do that.
7) A chance to play party games (such as apple bobbing) or to put on magic shows, shadow puppet shows… anything not too scary suits me just fine!
8) It reminds me of my childhood… and dressing up and going out trick-or-treating with my big sister and her friends. I felt ‘very big and grown up’ to able to do this, and I remember it as being fun (it helped too that my parents treated the whole thing as one big child-friendly party). I think I was nearly always a black cat (it was an easy costume to put together), which suited me fine, because cats are great.
Today is a bright day, a glorious day, and I am glad of the autumn sunshine since, lately, the world has felt very dark.
My children are on half-term holiday this week and I am slowing down a bit workwise so that I can spend time with them, help them with homework, and catch up with some much-needed cleaning and mending. I’ve also been playing around with inks and had various ideas for art pieces zipping around my head – well it is Inktober! – but more on that another time. However, today, I want to reflect on something else – another time that felt slow yet quick, hard but easy, intense yet rewarding… the six weeks of the summer holidays.
Sometimes, I feel that documenting the “small” things is unimportant, trivial, but when things get dark, as they are apt to do when we are so overwhelmed by information, then focussing on the “small” things can be of great comfort. Nature, in particular, gives of its healing gifts so freely… and it never ceases to amaze me how getting out into nature, a park, or simply working in the garden – weeding, pruning, digging, all things that are intrinsically “wild” – immediately makes me feel so much better. Calmer, grounded, “more me”.
We have a splendid cooking apple tree in our back garden, and this year, I remembered that the apples are ready for picking earlier rather than later, so me and the children spent quite a lot of time up the tree, and up the ladder, harvesting apples. (Our cat also had fun following after us!) As my husband hadn’t pruned the tree for a few years we had a bumper crop, like buckets and buckets. So we gave away buckets and buckets to passers-by, and in doing so, I was rewarded with the knowledge that others would be cooking and enjoying the apples too. Hating to see good food go to waste, I did my best – I really did! – to use up all the apples we did keep. I made apple cake, apple crumble, apple flapjack, stewed apple and no doubt various other puddings that I’ve already forgotten about. The kids picked blackberries from the local and ever-bountiful bush and so we also had apple and blackberry crumble a few times.
Cooking apples, photo by Marija Smits
This summer, I’ll also remember as the summer of ice cream. My son decided that he wanted to set up an ice cream shop, so I borrowed an ice cream maker from a friend, Googled recipes, bought ingredients, and then we were good to go. We pretty much made everyone’s favourite – mint choc chip, rum and raisin (somehow my husband and I managed to vanish that one pretty quickly!), banana and blueberry, and raspberry. I’d wanted to make an apple crumble ice cream too (basically, apple puree with cooked crumble topping swirled in) but never got around to doing it. I also wanted to experiment with non-dairy milks: coconut cream, almond milk etc. but ran out of time. But, as I keep telling myself, these ideas will keep, they’re simply on hold.
Ice cream shop, photo by Marija Smits
The summer holidays were also when I did “Mummy School” i.e. a bit of reading, writing, maths and art most weekdays so that the kids weren’t too out of the loop for when they were back at school. They (mostly) enjoyed this, particularly the making-of-the-timetable bit, although I know they would’ve happily foregone it for the lure of the screen…
Creativity-wise, I read and wrote a bit, but as I had a real longing to work with ink, I picked up my dip pen and started copying pictures… anything, really, that I liked the look of. And as the Scooby Snacks card game was another firm favourite this summer holiday, I ended up doing some copies of the baddies from the pack of the cards. (By the way, I was sorely disappointed by the lack of obviously female baddies in the card pack – which I often mentioned to my husband and children. So they challenged me to come up with my own female baddie to add to the deck. Watch this space…!)
Scooby Snacks card game, photo by Marija Smits
I’ll admit that towards the end of the holiday I felt like I was wading through treacle as lots of things (workwise and writing-wise) were being put off until the eventual “back to school” and the quiet and time it affords me. But, overall, I felt that we were productive in our relaxation and work. And as our county may be changing the times of our holidays next school year (not to mention the fact that this year is my big girl’s last year at primary school) the summer holidays felt particularly special.
And so now to autumn, the end of the hanging baskets (compost and flowers all a gift from my kind and green-fingered father-in-law), and the last of the tomato crop.
Today, I am having a low day, a sad day. Today is a day to remind myself that there is a rhythm to life, a rhythm to creativity. It is a day for me to be mindful of the fact that energy ebbs and flows. Today is simply a low day. It will pass; these days always pass, but I wanted to document this so that when this happens again I will be comforted by this reminder. Also, if anyone else ever feels like this, I want to say this: I hear you.
Invisible Woman, by Marija Smits
Today is a day when I’ve felt as though I’m invisible. A few tiny tiny things (in the grand scheme of things) have occurred to make me feel like the character Amos Hart from the movie ‘Chicago’ who memorably sang the heart-achingly sad ‘Mr Cellophane’. A friend I was conversing with this morning wandered off mid-conversation to chat with another group of people. My inbox is continuing to remain desolately free of meaningful emails, although I’ve sent off many emails in the past fortnight (both professional and personal). Friend requests via Facebook of people I admire and would like to get to know better (though not in a creepy way, of course!) are just not happening. A Twitter conversation I started the other day trailed off into nothingness… My blog stats tell me that no one (well, okay, few people) are reading my blog. I am also failing to “see” my own work. It’s all rubbish, it’s all a waste of time. And most mothers can probably relate to this: all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, admin work, shopping, present-buying, birthday party-organizing, caring and loving that goes on unseen and unacknowledged by society (and sometimes friends and family too). Only a (work) rejection (for some funding) today made me feel something: Ouch!
I have to remind myself that other people have lots going on in their lives; to be patient, open-hearted. I have to remind myself that I am also guilty of forgetting to reply to friends’ emails (or social media exchanges) and that there’s no malice in my oversight – just an overstuffed schedule and a holey memory (and possibly also embarrassment when I realize how much time has passed since they first contacted me!). In short, we are all human. Forgive me. Forgive them.
The trouble with feeling invisible – for an HSP at least – is that a commonly offered solution is to: Speak out! Make yourself heard! All very well if you’re an extrovert and/or have enough energy to assert. But when I feel low this feeling invisible thing is self-reinforcing. I am invisible, ergo, I must hide away. Sometimes, hiding away (maybe with a large tub of ice-cream to watch a movie, or to play Minecraft, or whatever – at least the villagers interact with me!) is just the right thing to do. But there’s not always a chance to do this, and of course work, and household chores etc. etc. are an impediment to hiding away. And sometimes, hiding away can seem a bit scary, because there’s always the worry, Will I ever come out of this?
The answer is always, always this: YES. You will come out of this. There is a rhythm to life, a rhythm to creativity. Have trust in the rhythm of your body, the rhythm of the feminine wild. Do what you have to do in the “low” – hunker down, cry, make yourself heard – and then, when you are ready, come out once more to shine.
A while back, I was lucky enough to be nominated by the ever-thougtful Dawn from Journal of Dawn for the Blue Sky Tag. Thank you Dawn! So I thought I’d combine the Q&A, my nominations, and a giveaway in my 100th post (which also happens to be my 5 year blogiversary). I can’t quite believe I’ve been blogging for 5 years now, but I have, and I still love it.
THE Q&A
Is your Life, today, half-empty, or half-full?
Such a tricky question – and somewhat like the problem of Schrödinger’s cat. I believe that just like light – which is both a particle and a wave – life is both half-empty and half-full simultaneously and it is only the observer that gets to decide at any particular moment. An optimist at heart I think I’ll pretty much always go with half-full. Today, because I’ve had a walk in the September sunshine and just now written a poem I’m pleased with (and fingers-crossed all my loved ones are okay) it actually feels like it’s three-quarters full.
How have you found goodness from the bad situations in your Life? Example, please :))
Most of the bad situations in my life I’ve put into my writing, in one way or another. My father’s death, for example, I wrote about in this poem here, called ‘The Pulmonary Embolism’. I have found healing from exploring these things through writing (and no doubt, these life experiences have fired me, like clay, into a more clearly defined person). And if anyone else finds consolation in my writing then I reckon that’s a good thing.
Which relationships have been the most challenging for you, and what strategies have you created to improve them?
Two challenging relationships… hmm. One has been with my mother (who, in so many ways is like me, but in other and, fundamental ways, unlike me), and ditto my mother-in-law. I think that first there needs to be reflection and understanding – of our differences and that our differences have the possibility to cause friction. But people will only change if they want to change – I have no control over that change. After that comes acceptance, and the grace (from within) to let go of my own judgement and the friction. If I felt that there was anything I could concretely do to change one aspect of our relationship I would use compassionate communication to do so. In the past I’ve used it in certain occasions where it was of immense help. I can highly recommend the book People Skills by Robert Bolton if you want to improve your communication skills.
What causes you angst, and how do you overcome it?
Oh goodness! As an HSP, anything and everything! Global warming, neoliberalism, Donald Trump, Brexit, racism, sexism, social media, unisex toilets in secondary schools, so-called education gurus, people being outraged by the use of the word poetess, the billion-dollar infant formula industry (which is a law unto itself), scratchy jumpers, noisy neighbours, coffee shops that don’t serve cream to go with the said coffee, owners who don’t clear up their dog’s poo and leave it on the street for you to squelch in… The list is endless! I’m not actually sure if I do overcome it. I guess I just figure out how much I care about the issue, and if there’s anything I can meaningfully do about it then I will try to do that. If I can’t do all that much about it I have to accept that and move on (remembering that it’s okay to focus on the good/meaningful stuff I’m doing already).
Have you ever written your own jokes???? Memorized them, and tried them out in a long, boring line at the Post Office . . . Did anyone chortle??? (ie — do you have a good joke ready for a sour circumstance :)) (I had a lot of fun writing my Cow Jokes.)
Writing a good joke is seriously hard! So, no, I don’t have any great skill in this area. In a tricky situation I’ll fall back on this:
‘Knock, knock.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Interrupting Cow.’
‘Interrupting cow wh-’
‘Mooooooo!’
What challenges are you facing in your Life right now?
My main challenges are to do with my work, family life, writing balance. Trying to do all three successfully sometimes feels like too much of a struggle. Something for me to review.
What do you obsess over? How do you rein in your obsessions?
I’m prone to OCD. Not particularly with physical compulsions e.g. needing to wash my hands, check things are off (although I do have a tendency to do these things probably a little too often)… but when I discovered from a book that some OCD sufferers have mental compulsions, that was a revelation. Here’s how it works: having a worry/fear/regret and thinking about it endlessly and obsessively, then feeling compelled to say a ‘special sentence’ (or whatever) in one’s head, a certain number of times to find relief from the obsessive worry. Others can’t see that there’s anything wrong, but it’s absolutely debilitating. OCD can permanently put life on hold.
Somehow, I summoned up the strength to talk to my partner (now husband) about it. He didn’t think any less of me for having this strange issue (I was sure he would look at me like I was bonkers), and his listening ear and support helped immeasurably. After that I made the connection that stress has a huge impact on OCD, so I had to make important life changes. Switching careers was part of the solution. And funnily enough, birthing and breastfeeding my children helped too. Apparently mothering hormones can help some women in combatting OCD.
What strategies do you employ for stress relief?
Stress relief for me means ‘saying no’ and cutting back on everything that isn’t vital. Listening to music, exercise, and eating healthy and wholesome food – as well as laughing and having fun with my husband, children and friends. And of course cuddles help hugely too! (Books too. Sometimes chocolate.)
What other-wordly phenomena have you experienced? (Intuition, dreams, deja vu, ET, communication with lost loved ones, etc.) What have your learned from them?
None! As much as I like the idea of otherworldly phenomena (they often crop up in my stories) I’m an earthy woman and haven’t had stuff like that happen to me. Though I swear that underpants gnomes exist…
How do you make new friends, or strike up a conversation with a stranger?
‘Hello! How are you? My name’s…’ is usually where I start.
What do you love to create? How do you motivate yourself to do more of what you love to do???
I love to create stories. Worlds. In pictures and words. I don’t tend to need to motivate myself to do something I love doing so much, but like all creative people, I guess, I can get lazy and spend more time dreaming up new creations rather than actually making them happen. That’s when I give myself a good talking to: Who d’you think’s going to finish that story? That piece of art? The fairies? Yeah right. Get to work woman! That’s usually enough of a butt kicking for me to get going.
The final fruit of the writerly labours: reading the published piece. Photo of Marija Smits by Tom Bellamy.
How do you feel about the season changing from summer to autumn? Do you have a favourite autumnal poem? (If not, simply share a favourite poem.)
On the introvert-extrovert and sensitivity continuum where would you put yourself?
Have you ever been ‘stuck’ in life? Or are you ‘stuck’ (in some way) right now? Any tips for getting unstuck?
How do you balance family life, work and creative time? Is ‘time scheduling’ the way forward? Or do you have a more relaxed approach?
What creative work are you focussing on at the moment?
Are you a one-project-on-the-go person or do you flit between different creative projects?
Some of your favourite books…?
An inspiring piece of music?
A favourite ice cream flavour? If you don’t like ice cream, here’s another question: tea or coffee? (And how do you take it.)
A photo of one of your favourite places to create (or the place you mostly end up creating, though it may not be your favourite!).
And just to be awkward here’s a bonus question (feel free to expand or not, as you see fit): Where are you on the limerent/non-limerent scale?
Thank you again Dawn for including me in this fun exercise. And do feel free to answer my questions too, if you’d like. 🙂
The Giveaway
Lastly… here’s the giveaway – a fine literary bundle that all feature a piece of my writing. To be in with the chance of winning the below simply leave a comment on this post (and perhaps a why as to why you’d like them…).
Lovely literature!
The giveaway will run until midnight GMT on 24th September 2017 and I’ll announce the winners shortly afterwards. (This offer is open to anyone living in any country, but if someone outside the UK does win, I’d need a contribution toward postage.)
Around this time last year I wrote a post called Running on “empty” that resonated with a fair few readers. Sadly, it would seem that many of us are prone to the idea that we must constantly be “on” – working, creating, socializing (and all while documenting/Instagramming every moment of our lives). Often, and particularly if we’re women, caring for children or elderly or ill relatives is another constant/semi-constant occupation.
This year I made a conscious decision to not take too much on, particularly work-wise. I’ve mostly managed to adhere to this though I’m still prone to getting too absorbed by work or excited by a writing prompt/call for submissions or agitating over a book review which, inevitably, makes me work late into the night when, really, I need to be sleeping.
However, as I said, I’ve mostly managed to honour my intention. So when we got to the cottage we’d rented for our holiday this year, I didn’t have a jolt of realization that I was (and had been) running on empty; though I did come to the conclusion that information, news (and social media) overload is definitely a problem for HSPs in today’s world. I would probably go so far as to liken it to chronic stress or anxiety). It would seem that the art of living in the present is a much underrated and somewhat lost skill. And yet how vital it is for mental health, physical wellbeing and our relationships with ourselves, other people and the natural world. It is also important for those who want creativity to play a part of their daily lives. In short, it is a necessity for being authentic to one’s true self – to being wild.
Devon field, photo by Marija Smits
Being in the present helps me to focus on my own needs (and desires) and those of my loved ones. It brings me into the moment with the reminder that I need to listen – not be off in future dreamland somewhere, the hazy (and sometimes regrettable) past or, much worse, thinking about the latest work problem or less-than-satisfactory social media interactions. Being in the present helps me to fully experience this moment, reconnect with loved ones, myself and the world around me. And in Devon, where we spent the week, there was much natural beauty on offer. I also got to “indulge” in some of my most favourite things – reading for pleasure, creating art just for the sake of creating art, and beachcombing for sea glass, pebbles and shells. What more could an introverted HSP want?
Sea glass, photo by Marija Smits
Now the trick is to bring more ‘living in the present’ back home with me, and to actually make it a habit.
A fortnight ago the funfair came to our small town and set up shop. This happens every year at the beginning of July and on the Saturday of the travelling fair’s four-day-long stay the village runs a show alongside the funfair. This means that the recreational field is full of stalls, there’s an area for music and dance performances, a dog show and tug-of-war; ice cream vans and tombolas. In addition, there is the local horticultural, arts and crafts show for townsfolk to get involved in.
I like to take part in the show (particularly the art categories) – although I do tend to forget about it until the very last minute – and as they have crafting & baking categories for children to enter it’s become a bit of a thing for us. Although every year I reiterate to my two kids – it’s about the taking part, not the winning!
As they’ve got older they’ve become more interested in the show, but still, the big highlight for them is the funfair. This year we had fine weather and came away from the arts and craft show with a few prizes. So we headed to the funfair with smiling faces… First stop was the candy floss seller.
Candy floss, by Marija Smits
However, I do have mixed feelings about funfairs. As an HSP (highly-sensitive person) the sheer number of people, the noise (sometimes screams) of the crowd, the pop songs blaring out of the speakers, the smell of the diesel-fuelled generators mixing with the smell of frying onions and burgers, hits me with a good old sensory wallop. I worry about the kids getting lost; I worry about where they’ve put their shoes when they go on a bouncy castle or ride that requires them to go barefoot; I worry about how much money I’m spending; how I’m going to carry all the stuff I’ve brought along with me and not lose any valuables in the process; I get hot and sweaty, and worry about the safety of the people on the fast, whizzy rides (look at all those mechanical parts… so much could go wrong!) and, in general, my patience runs out pretty quickly. I long to get home, to the quiet and cool of our comfy and non-sensory-overloading nest.
Kids water walking, photo by Marija Smits
And yet… there is something rather wonderful about the funfair. I can see why travelling fairs have ended up in speculative books and TV shows (Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes, along with Heroes, immediately spring to mind) because there is something thrillingly different, mysterious even, about the funfair and the lives of the people who run them. It also makes me think of my own childhood, and in particular my early teens, when the funfair coming to town was a much-anticipated event. Oh for the gut-churning thrill of the waltzer; the super-greasy fast food; the whiplash of the bumper cars; the chance of encountering boys from the local boys’ school…
Perhaps age, then, is the main factor in my no longer being able to fully enjoy funfairs; maybe they mainly appeal to teenagers who yearn for the promise of excitement. To a limerent girl-turning-woman, the funfair was a glimpse into the future – of night-life, of thrills, of the other sex. And given the number of groups of teenagers descending on the funfair I can’t see its appeal vanishing any time soon. I can envision my own children, when older, congregating at the funfair with their friends. No doubt I’ll worry about their safety, and exactly what they’re getting up to (!), but like most parental milestones, it’ll be something I’ll have to experience and learn to navigate, if not, exactly, embrace.
Teika Marija Smits 