Tuesday, 1 August 2017

What's Her Story?



A mind of dreams,  
A world right at her feet.
Heart amongst the waves.
Her spirit glowed in safe retreat.

A first love, she held so dear.
A father whom loved rock and roll 
With him she knew no fear.
Protector of her untouched soul.


I love you darling BDD
Hold my hand this last time,
Forever you are with me
Your heart belongs to mine.

Her dreams they drowned
On the day he flew,
Those sunsets turned to storms 
Her spirit caged, the darkness grew.


His feet no longer on the window pane
All cherished moments gone,
Big bear hugs, "Daddy again, again!"
Last happy breaths were drawn.

Her sheltered family at an end
A house a home no longer.
Her world, her hope was long forgotten,
They didn't grow nor become stronger.

Walking a path alone 
Didn't know right nor wrong,
Her pain and grief, nobody shared
She believed that she was strong.


Home became a battle field 
She hid and chose a way,
Believed he was her shield 
Instead he lead her astray.

Numbed, she shut it out 
Not once did she yes,
She'd protect her spirit
She "chose" this awful mess.

Surface pain was easier 
It didn't touch her soul, 
He could take her body
But that's all that he stole.


Drugs replaced what love once was
that darkness simply fled,
But relief it did not last 
Her heart, it truly bled.

A precious life grew inside her
How could she be so reckless, 
The blood, the loss and fear
She'd been left completely senseless.

Hiding from her pain was ugly
She lived a life of lies,
A dirty, selfish loner
Her young way to stay alive.

Soon it became too much
The visions grew and grew,
She raised a blade, not once nor twice
"Oh Daddy, can I be with you?" 


It was her fault, she caused this pain
He hurt those that she loved.
She was that bitch, the "f*cked up wean"
He threw those daggers - taunted, shoved.

Run away or die right here
Her adult grew and grew,
Her inner child was screaming
Dad was there; she simply knew.

This was her redemption
Own those past mistakes,
It's time to heel those wounds 
She'd own the bumps and scrapes. 

It was her, she chose it all
It was time to lay her bed, 
Accept that nobody would catch her fall
Or wipe those tears she shed.

Be independent and grateful
Stop using those that care,
Her past actions were disgraceful 
Be more self aware!

"I'll make you proud," she'd quietly say
How dare she abuse a life,
"I'm not sure how, but I'll find a way"
For now she'd own regret.


One day a man saw her heart
The truth it didn't pass him,
He seen what she had left behind 
And grabbed her on a whim.

Every kiss and touch was meant
She lay and numbed like before,
But everything was beautiful 
For once she didn't feel the gore.

A love she'd known but once ago
Trust and joy she'd long forgotten,
This feeling it was safe and pure
A sign befell, her dad - a robin.


A ring, a vow, another life.
She'd finally begun achieving, 
How did this "bitch" become a wife?
Because she never stopped believing.

The love it grew, created life
But love she couldn't bare, 
Through all the trouble and the strife 
Her inner child was standing there.

Life it turned from black to white 
She lived in sadness, loss and pain.
Why did she deserve this bliss
Could it happen all over again?

She felt a mothers undying love
But then she felt another,
A broken child inside her mind 
"Please don't forget the other."


Her younger self was screaming
"Help me find acceptance, did I do so wrong?"
"No dear child, it's simple
You are right where you belong."

Help was sought and past reflected 
A child's mind, a broken heart
Little guidance and support, 
It was never her fault from the start.


As a woman she may not have chose
The path her inner child had crawled,
But that's the problem that she faced
Her childhood was mauled.

A tangled mess she tried to fix
A child's mind not yet grown,
Not equipped to face the world
A pain not hers to own.

Peace at last her heart did feel
A decade of war later,
A snippet of her movie reel
Lessons that will cater.


To serve a purpose and inspire
To fight and stand your ground, 
To lift up spirits and shed a light
And prove that peace can be found.

Fiction or a story
Take it as you will, 
It only holds a lesson
If you believe this skill.

We all hold that strength
A love and strong belief, 
To focus on a lessons duty
That can teach us much from grief.


Though lessons can be hard
And life can be so cruel, 
Don't believe you can't be fixed
Life's number one rule.

There is always hope 
There is life beyond pain,
She finally spoke out
So that she could live again. 

Be proud of who you are
Don't ever be ashamed,
To love and protect 
A spirit that's untamed.


Sunday, 25 June 2017

PTSD




I've been scared to post this but I know I made a promise to myself and to my followers to share this journey with PTSD.   I asked my husband to take this photo and I question if I should have got him to video me before this moment. 

I had another extreme episode - yet again in Scotland.  It happened last Monday morning when I was sitting on the sofa the day after our daughters Glistening (naming ceramony.)  The night before I had flash backs of events from my past that were hard and upsetting - I experience them often when I visit Scotland.  

This time however, I woke up and I felt like I was still there - like everything was still happening to me.  It didn't feel like I was telling a friend about my past, it felt like I was still in that life and I was scared because my adult self now knows it was all so wrong.  I was scared for my self and then when I seen my baby girl sitting next to me I was scared for her - that's when I went numb.  

I asked my mum to take her out the room and get my husband.   I just wept, I cried like a child - I was my inner child.  Every time I tried to talk to myself and tell myself it was my husband holding me, that I was now a mother and that I was safe and strong - something deeper would pull me back into darkness and I was there.  I began to get pins and needles all over my body, my hands started to curl and I had no control of them, then my lips wouldn't move.  Before I knew it I was trapped in my own body in a child's mind screaming for help but nobody was there, nobody could see where I was and what I felt - I was alone.  So very, painfully on my own. 

I needed away from everything that looked like it did when I was younger, I knew that much because since I've been seeing a councillor she's taught me SO much about coping with this all.  This excruciating experience lasted for over an hour.  Every now and again I would calm and my hands would start to uncurl but until I reached a place that had no association with my past - I kept getting trapped.  

When we made it to my husbands parents house, I asked him to take Emily inside so she wouldn't see me trying to walk in the house.  Just as he walked through the door I was sure, it would be the last time I'd see them - I truly believed my body was giving up on me, I believed I was dying.  My chest was aching, my heart was hitting levels of pain that outweighed the birth of my children.  This pain was beyond physical - it had my soul.  It was threatening to take away the beauty of my life now and pull me back to that darkness, it was fear beyond fear. 

Then my husband walked back out and he waited until I was ready to try move my legs, he stood reminding me who I was now, where I was and how safe I was - slowly he led me to his parents room.  I wanted his mothers perfume on me and I wanted something that smelled safe, something that smelled of my present life - the life I love.  I was hugging my daughters teddy but I was still frozen.  I asked if my husband would get our dogs onto the bed - instantly they lay with me, they licked me and they instinctively knew I needed them.  As I felt their fur my hands slowly uncurled and I had regained my control, I was safe, I was home, I was with my beautiful family.   My safe.  It was one of life's most incredibly beautiful moments.  Their touch saved me.

This, is just one of the mental illnesses that's treated with a 6 month wait to just speak to someone - let alone get adequate help.   Medication, therapy and the support of family and friends will cure a person who's suffering - so if you know someone who's waiting.  Be that friend, be that family member.  There are so many of you who suffer in silence - my inbox is full of people who are yet to find the strength to get help or are sitting in limbo waiting patiently for an opportunity to talk to a professional.  This journey for me is not over, I am without question at one of the hardest stages - I've been forced to face demons I've buried and at the moment, I'm having to live with them in order to free them.  That child inside me will heel, she will no longer be screaming for help and I believe that day will be soon.  I will be at peace with my younger self, to live with my younger self rather than run from her, ignore her and let her remain in pain.  Getting help is not easy - persisting is even harder BUT if you do, I can guarantee you it WILL get better.  If you are suffering and not yet able to get the help you need, make your first aid box.  A smell, a teddy, a person, a pet, a place or a piece of music.  They are one of many little things to turn to when you feel like you can't get out of that darkness.   There is always a way.

Share you story, share all those battles and let's build an army against mental illness - never feel like you have to fight it alone, there are so many people in this world who WANT to help or who are on this journey with you.  Never feel like your pain is inadequate, never compare yourself to another's grief.  I felt ashamed, embarrassed and scared for SO long and yes, even now at times I still do.  Hell, I've spent the last week since this happened hiding from it and hiding from those who I thought knew about it - then I rationalise my thoughts.  I remember that PTSD chose a girl with a voice, with a mission to help others.   I remember how fortunate I am to be able to have the counciling I have and the information I've been given.  So I choose to let this teach me, to teach others and to heal others.  I choose to fix this and I choose to fix it with you.

I choose to talk 

Saturday, 29 April 2017

Your Inner Child



Emily squeezing jelly through her fingers for the first time was one of those moments I'll savor forever.  The laughter, the excitement and all her curiosity.  Her innocence and her spirit not yet tainted by the adult world.  She didn't give one f*ck about the mess on the floor or the stains on her clothes and neither did I.  That's the sheer beauty of raising a child - they find the child in you.  The one deep inside that was denied to dance in the park anymore or to scream and cry loudly when things got hard in fear of looking stupid, immature or dare say it, crazy.  The child we all deserve to be and to feel but we've been told to deny them, to deny that care free feeling of aliveness.

No one shouted at her to stop exploring how the jelly wiggled between her fingers, nobody handed her a spoon and said don't make a mess.   She flipped it, she flung it and her sister roared with laughter.  At first Molly just laughed uncontrollably at her baby sister but then she was looking at me, she wanted to join in but she knew that flinging her food on the floor was wrong - but this moment wasn't about that and her baby sister was exploring.  I gave Molly the nod and she too joined in.   It was everything a childhood should be.  Expressing joy, wonder and curiosity without restraints in their safe place, their home.  Where they could be who they wanted to be and express their emotions fully.  I didn't tell Emily's big sister to say it was wrong or to snigger AT her, I told her to enjoy her baby sisters excitement, I told her to have fun, I told her to encourage it and be in the moment.  

More and more I see a pattern emerging with my "F*ck it" theory and it's growing rapidly.  It's changing my life and it's growing my girls into wonderfully crazy human beings.  There are things they do now that won't effect their grades or their future and things like that today was one of them.  Stop fighting it.  F*ck it, I am not denying them their fun, their freedom to express, their right to explore for themselves - I'm bloody well joining in!

It hit me - what I am fighting to heal in myself at this very moment with my councilor was what I was watching right in front of me.  Every moment for them is new and full of wonder and when I am with them, my inner child is right there bursting to get out.  That's where I repeat f*ck it, and I let her come out.  I let my inner child dance, I let her sing (terribly) and let her know it's ok to play and be silly.   I will not be that person to drown out my daughters inner voice.  I will not be that person who teaches them not to trust themselves or their feelings because "I know best..."  I know how much of my inner child missed out and I know how precious that time is for my girls,  how important it is to let them be that child for as long as they were intended to be.

I will protect them, I will guide them and I will always be there for them.  I will teach them how to respect others, how to love themselves, how to show compassion and most importantly how to BE themselves.  I will teach them right and wrong, for their age.  I will not ask them to be an adult, when they are not.  I will teach them of dangers and how they must act in order to keep themselves safe and others safe but I will not sweat the small stuff.  I will not let the small stuff stop me from enjoying these moments.  I will let my 2 year old be just that and I will not take that spirit away.   That I promise with all my heart.

Those qualities that our children possess are the ones we all seek to find as we get older.  We all want to feel alive, we all want to release our inhibitions and believe that we can achieve great things but how can we when so many of us are unknowingly blocking out our inner child.   The inner child that is full of spontaneity, trust and belief.  You know - the real beauty of all of this is sometimes it's our children who know best.  Sometimes, it's our children who can teach us how to not give one f*ck - on those occasions, that's our job to take those lessons in and teach our children how to do this without becoming assh*les in the process.

When I was at soft play a few days ago with the kids, I went to grab a cup of tea after countless trips down the death slide on my own - my toddler was too scared but only too happy to watch me do it and conveniently I was only too happy to oblige.  The man who served me told me that he was surprised to see me do this - I asked why and he said "It's usually the dads".   

Why do we deny ourselves the chance to have fun?  Why do we think we will look silly crawling through a tunnel and battling through a ball pit? I'm not saying we all want to be rolling around in a bacteria pool of bogies and snot or on all fours cleaning up twatting jelly but what I'm saying is - we have to listen to our inner child sometimes, we have to let them out.  Because our inner child never leaves us.

Really, what I am saying is simple.  If you want that "Zest for life" that feels
so damn good - find that child in you, embrace them fully. We need to give ourselves a break from the harsh realities of the adult world at times and remember there is a beautiful child in there that is still capable of feeling that pure simplistic joy.   We watched movies, we played, we sang and we spent all day in our pants.  How grateful I am to have that opportunity.  It was f*cking  glorious!


Saturday, 25 March 2017

Dear Mum




I know I've thanked you and I know you know - I love you.  But do you really know how much?

I don't remember my first years with you but something special happened not long ago and it didn't just change me, it changed everything.

I became a mum too.  Somewhere during that time, I began to relive the parts of our lives that only you remember.  Some of the hardest parts I know you've lived.

From the moment I was on that hospital bed, holding your hand shouting all the "F***s" I could possibly muster through contractions - I had this profound moment of thinking:

"How did my mother do this THREE times?"

Here is where I thank you, here is where I thank you from a deeper place.  Places I have found myself since becoming a mum time and time again - the indescribably joyful place, the painful place, the place where options are not an option. 

Your journey into motherhood was different to mine, you had no mother, you cared for your father and when we hit our teenage years - you were faced to go it alone.    I don't know how I'd do this without you, let alone without my children's father.  Mum, you are amazing.

Dear Mum


You carried me and nurtured me,
Before I'd breathed the air.
Handled those crazy hormonal cues
And temporarily lost your hair.

You were hit with crucial decisions 
In your bed or the bl**dy cot.
To kiss and cuddle, cry it out
Breast or bottle, dummy or not.

You felt the horrible mummy blues,
the trembling hands and tired eyes.
Your life had changed forever,
which came as quite a surprise.

Those early years were tough.
You sailed all that though, I can see!
Your sacrifices and your choices
All helped make me, me.

You taught me how to "do myself"
Touché mum - I get that now.
The parent hacks you now share with me
You rightly so, should take a bow.

You gave up your right to pee alone,
Or drink warm cups of Tetley tea.
Your social life went POOF 
And you sacrificed it all for me.

I often wonder how you did it,
Three childrens worth of parties.
Random parents screaming kids galore,
All high on f**king smarties.

That fashion sense with all those frills!
I get it now, to catch my spills?
My hand sewn berets and poofy dresses.
My brothers hand-me-downs gave me stresses.

How many beds have you changed?
Filled with sick, pee and poo.
Sleepless nights and lonely days,
Oh mum, I now feel them too.


You didn't know way back then,
That I'd become a mother too.
Yet you knew to teach me all the basics
Right down to scrubbing the sh*tty loo.

Reenacting your young mummy days,
I sit sipping on my G&T
muttering "This will end in tears." 
Like you used to do 'Mummy Referee.'

Now I understand how you lost your sh*t.
Baring witness to my fifth tattoo.
Your sweet baby drinking cheap cider, 
Riding motorbikes and smoking wacky boo.

You were faced with mummy guilt
and that awful worry too.
The kind that never goes away 
Regardless of how old we get for you.

Your choices weren't always right
But that's what made me stronger.
You taught me how mistakes are good,
Some lessons take time to ponder.

You lost your husband and my daddy,
Second partner, Mother and Father.
Yet you still smile through all that pain
Your strength - I still can't gather.

Through all the suffering you have had
Your cheeky smile forever grows
Your warmth and compassion has no end 
To friends and strangers whims and woes.

Alone you stood on my wedding day,
You found the courage to speak.
Words my dad would kindly welcome,
They truly made me weep.

You held your Grandchildren close to you
Just like you did with me.
It was then I got to witness
Exactly what you used to see.

You cradled my sweet daughters
And I witnessed your eyes glow
Your hands in theirs, your daughters child
A new type of love had begun to grow.

You pushed me to believe my talent 
So today I share that wisely
Of spreading love through words
To help raise our mums up highly.

These words are for all mothers
Those here and up above
There is nothing more beautiful
Than that of a mothers love.


Sunday, 5 March 2017

THAT Family




We had an exceptionally monumental moment this morning.  We rode our bikes before 9am on a Sunday morning, with a trailer behind us holding not one but two very excited small children and the cast of "Super Market Zoo" which is the knew 'fav' book in our house-hold.  We looked every ounce of the most organized and adventurous family there was. 

The bikes and trailer were daddy's 26th birthday present.  Which I find completely hilarious in itself.  

Now on a country road after slightly taking the p*ss out my hubby for his 'oh so professional' hand signals that insinuated he knew what the f*ck he was doing.  He then turned round and looked at me, both of us laughing our heads off as he shouted over his shoulder with words that instantly inspired me to write this blog;

"We are THAT family, aren't we...?"

In that moment I felt waves of acceptance, power and knowledge.  I felt like the ultimate parent - I had discovered the truth.  

 "The truth shall set you free!"


I had first hand experience of who "THAT" family actually were and it was not what I'd put myself through endless days of guilt and desire thinking it would be.

To the naked eye, to the people who had but a glimpse of our lives this morning as they passed us by in their cars or watched from their living room windows -  we were that family.  The family you defeatidly wonder, how the f*ck they do it.  They really do have their sh*t together.

Firstly, 'sh*t' and 'together' most certainly do not go together in the interpretation of our family.  Our sh*t is more like that of my dogs when it's been sitting in the garden a week later because my husband, even after me nagging - is still to pick it up.  I then find myself crouched down, knee deep in sixty odd sh*ts in the back garden on a Saturday morning caving in.  Picking half eaten crap up in tiny bits myself with a holey poo bag because some little rotter of a bird has scattered the sh*t everywhere.  That is, so far probably the best description I can come up with to explain the dynamics of our family.  

We so do not have our sh*t in one piece, on our definitely not perfectly green grass.

Planning and organization is yet another skill we have yet to acquire.  With two children and nearly 3 years of parenting behind us, I'm starting to feel like that skill will be one we will soon have to accept won't be part of our lives unless we are willing to change our personalities too - which quite frankly at this stage in my life, I'm not willing to do. I kind of like being the family that's late for things but usually with good reason - even if it's that my kid wants an extra story while she pees or wants to take an hour to eat her toast before making an appearance at preschool.  My attitude right now with the kids at the age their at, is that I'll enjoy the slowness of life whilst I can.   I like that we don't put pressure on ourselves to celebrate Birthdays, Christmases and events on particular days or in certain way.  I like to be different I love to think that those around us accept that and love that about us.

I guess I wanted to write a short piece to remind other people about life filters - they are the physical ones that can reach over the realm of social media into real life and portray the same lies that a good old Instagram filter or Snapchat filter can portray.  We have come to a point in social media where honesty is starting to shine through once more.  People are owning their realities instead of hiding them and it's encouraging behavior. 

For most of us, these 'perfect' images in real life and social media aren't deliberate, they aren't intended to offend or disillusion others.  As most of us love and appreciate the beauty of a good photograph - we are also trying to better our lives, seek more fun and memory filled adventures.  

If you have a positive mind set your instincts won't be to jump on social media to tell everyone what the sh*t parts of your day are or what you couldn't afford to buy.  That, to me is more than OK.  I am one of them too.  If you want to flaunt your new material possessions you've worked hard at to get but choose not to show the grind, that's ok too.  Sharing the material aspects of our life isn't my thing but I am comfortable enough in my own life to both respect and understand that for some folk, that makes them feel good.  It's not about telling others to stop doing the sh*t that annoys you on social media, it's about teaching yourself to understand and accept why.  

 I don't think to pull my camera out and capture my baby screaming at my ankles because I know in fifty years time I'd far rather remember the cuddles.  That's just me.  The sh*t bits can f*ck off as quickly as they've arrived.  I acknowledge sh*t moments, I'll often write them down as a form of therapy and pick out the good bits.   I do enjoy including some of those crappy moments in my online stories and blogs - usually to discover that you can find a lot of humor and good from moments you initially feel no joy from.  I learn what I need to learn from hard moments but I'll be damned if I spend the majority of my time documenting them to forget to focus n the positive parts of my day.

This morning that family had been woken before 7am, they ate jam & toast in a freshly made bed whilst mum was uttering words of f*cks already.  Showers were not had because that was far too spontaneous if we ever thought we'd leave the house before 9am.   We spent ten minutes with our kids moaning at us because I impulsively stuck them in the trailer before thinking about how the f*ck we attach said contraption to bike.  Nearly ready to leave before we realized cyclists usually wear helmets - to the health and safety police, we opted to go a safe cyclists path route for our first test drive.   We spent fifteen minutes cycling before about turning because the toddler had decided she was hungry and our hands were near frozen to the handlebars.  Then we came home and attempted to fit bikes and a trailer into a garage FULL to the brim of belongings we've accumulated over our six house moves in 5 years.  Had a little moan and worry to myself about the chances of moving all this stuff to yet another location in a few months - which is a constant worry of mine right now.  We stuck the TV on and put our feet up all before 10am and all but five minutes before baby needed a nap and toddler wanted entertained.  Bike and trailer will probably gather dust before being used again in warmer climates.  The End.

We don't need to shout out about our crappy bits of the day or opt for a blurry less flattering image on our profiles so we don't upset other people.  We do need to educate ourselves, we need to give ourselves and our perceptions of other people a break.  We need to remember there is absolutely no such thing as 'perfect' and understand that our minds are powerful enough to concoct stories and elaborate on pictures to the extent we can create an image to ourselves that isn't real.  Next time you do this, remember that life has filters too - the best kind.  Remember that although lives may appear simplistic, care free and stress free - those lives unless you know them inside out, always carry filters.  We all just choose how often we use them.  There are those who have nothing and appear to have everything and there are those who have everything who choose not to flaunt it all.  Then there others like us who are trying to keep it real but let's face it, we just don't always get it right.

Whatever way you choose to live your life and look at others or not look at others as the case may be.  
Always remember...

 "We are all winging it."


It turns out we've always been that family, on our good days and our bad days and so have you.  


Sunday, 26 February 2017

Just a Mum






A few months ago I found myself standing in front of a mirror, wearing eyeliner and way too much bronzer for the first time in years, which I later discovered has now been replaced with highlighting.   Either way, I was shiny as f*ck and fitting right in.  I had boldly chosen to wear a bodysuit with no bra because finally after 8 months of breastfeeding, my boobs were no longer leaking milk every five minutes, they were still looking pretty pert and I was naively unaware they had not quite started to eat themselves yet.

I stood comparing myself to my bachelorette best friend.  I felt so insecure and so out my depth.  I have spent many of my years being made to believe I was never enough.  In my head, she was sex on legs and I was legs on a mince pie.  I very rarely see my friends now and without fail, no matter how much I love them, miss them and long to be with them - I get scared wondering how I'll fit in our circle now I've changed so very much.

I had bags under my eyes.  My hair was sticking to my head. I didn't have time to wash it, so it got whipped up in my mastered mum tail.  Before I knew it, I was explaining to her how sex worked after kids or didn't for a long time in our case.  Then as I do, I thought f*ck it - tonight's the night.  I then realized that operation untamed grass to indian stone patio had not been reinforced since baby had set up camp in my womb.  

So there I am, attempting to be just as sexy as my friend by sitting straddling her bog with her electric mens razor to avoid any work debris.  I was wearing 3 inch heels because after two + years of sticking to Uggs and Nikes, my ankles just don't quite have the muscle memory that my cervix apparently fortuantley has.  My tan stopped just below my rib cage and the top of my back - kind of like a drumstick lolly.  Then filled with anxiety and self doubt, I said it...

"I just look like a mum..."


As soon as I uttered the words, I felt guilty.  I wanted to be back at home with my babies in my joggies and one of my ten grey jumpers (that I remind my husband I need every one of) feeling every ounce of gratitude for having everything I have.  At first I said that sentence thinking it was not a good thing.  Seconds later however, every bone in my body knew my tone was wrong.  I should have said with confidence...

"I am a mum..."

For all the disheveled parts of me, told a far more beautiful story than any Anastasia Beverly hills palette, Hollywood lashes or highlighter ever could.

The awkward waddle in my heels, the heavy bags under my eyes, the some what nervous disposition - all carried one of the most sexiest traits there is.

STRENGTH

If you meet a mum out - tell her all the things she wants to hear.

"You look amazing"
"Your kids will be fine"
"You are an incredible mum, who deserves to have some 'you' time!"

Don't push her - don't expect her to be dancing on the tables like she did five years before or throw shots back the way she used to (although she still probably will.)  Let her feel like she can be her - the new her because motherhood does change you.

If she misses her babies, understand her and let her waddle home early in her 3inch heels and if she looks like she's having the time of her life - make sure you let her (after confirmation there's a babysitter to weigh in the following day.)

Planning a night out as a mum, is not just about mum.  It's not just about the personal body hang ups or the worry of being in a social scene thats now completely foreign to her.  It's the concern for the kids, the house and who she must trust to leave her kids with, her whole entire world.  It's the "what if" of letting loose, it's repercussions of taking a few hours just for her.



I know as a "stay at home mum" (f*cking hate that term) hundreds of miles from close family and friends, that my 'adulting' social skills have somewhat evaporated - my days consist of cooking multiple meals, nursing babies to sleep, sitting on the bathroom floor making songs up about poo and telling magical (sometimes Disney plagiarized) stories whilst the toddler takes a 30 minute pee.  I walk in the rain and count the cars and point out fairy houses on route and I am a dab hand at making a gruffalo out of the brown play dough that my daughter spent many an hour turning five colors into one.



There are moments where I find time to have adult interaction in the form of Instagram and Facebook, which I am convinced my children believe is where my friends all live.   You know what? Some of them actually do!  Your comments about my day, the kids and our antics genuinely help to keep a lonely mum sane - thank you and please keep the conversations coming.

I for the most part, I love my bubble.  I feel utterly privileged that I get to choose to be in my children's lives 100% of the time and be their soul carer and I have huge respect to those who want what I have and don't have that choice.   I've never been a person to need a large social circle or a high flying career, so this life suits me, it was made for me.    Admittedly I did always picture myself working with animals but hey, there are days where I feel I am doing just that!  I truly feel my children and husband gave me a purpose to a life I was very much lost in.  With that aside, I am only human and human interaction with people who share my values at times is nice too but sometimes really friggin' daunting.



I very often belittle myself and wonder if I am "worthy" of making friends with others since I became a mum.  Having little self esteem already, becoming a full time mum and disconnecting nearly entirely to the social circle I was once in, has left me even less confidence.

The more I resight "I am just a mum" in my head, the more my whole body gets angry, the more I want to fight back and shout "I AM a mum, I am a f*cking FANTASTIC mum" and honestly;  I think many of us parents are guilty of not saying this to ourselves more.



I almost feel it's an insult to my children constantly telling myself I am just a mum.  I'm unsure how many mums who stay at home with their children are like me, who instantly talk down their day to day role or almost make up excuses to why you choose to stay at home with the kids 99% of the time.  My children are amazing, they are beautiful, they have manners and brains.  My two year old has honestly been the most kind and understanding of souls, she's never screamed at me, lashed out at me or retaliated when I've said no - whether I want to take credit for it or not, that's my daughters.  Scientifically speaking I made them; factually I nurtured them and I have taught them everything they know.  So if I am just a mum, that would make my children just children and that, they definitely are not.  They are absolutely breathtaking in every way.  They are little balls of pure joy, they are miracles.  So why do I find it so hard to believe I might be a little bit amazing too?



We live in a culture where many are in the belief that we aren't enough unless we do something outrageously unique.  A mother who stays at home day and night sculpting her children's minds and souls and preparing them for a future in a somewhat crazy world is just expected, it's ordinary.  Yet, it isn't is it?   It's so much more than ordinary; it's empowering, being a good mother is a profound life role.

As a 'Stay at home' mum, I always feel the pressure when I am asked the question "What are your plans today..."  I feel frustrated because my answer is usually "f*ck all" which may insinuate nothing, when in fact, "f*ck all" to me, means a lot.  Really, I'm keeping two babies alive.  I am cooking, cleaning, telling stories.  I am mending sore knees, I am wiping away tears, I am changing nappies and I am teaching.  Sometimes, I am worrying for my children, I am fighting for them and I am so wrapped up in being the life line to them - that by the end of a day, I have no ability to speak for myself or about myself.  Sometimes, I forget how to do "me," to be me.  Those days can scare me;  on those days all I want to do is sit quietly in my own thoughts even just for an hour to have a little release from the working life of a mum, the work that never ends - the work that has no breaks,  no evening downtime, no appraisals, no sick days or weekends.  To commit to being a parent, is a life of huge sacrifices and hard work.  Work that inevitably leads me to the biggest highs and most fulfilling rewards I believe I will ever encounter.



I in some way agree with those who say being a mum isn't a "job" but in the same respect, I believe everything we do that makes ourselves or others grow - is work.  We are working at our jobs, our relationships, our hobbies and ourselves every day.  We are all working, at different speeds and in different ways.  To work is to grow - we are all growing.



The work, the effort, the commitment a parent puts into their child, to me - is one of the most incredible and challenging tasks there is.  Which leads me to my comment;

"I am just a mum."

I vow to delete that "just" out of my self critical head.  I vow never to let myself believe that I am not enough because "all I do" is be a mother.  Being a mother is everything to me.  Never have I doubted that I am a good mother.  I have however doubted time and time again if being a mother is enough or if becoming a mum and giving up everything else, made me - to the outside world, just a mum.  My insecurities and anxiety can lead me to believe that what others think about our lives matter - when really, truly it doesn't.  The only thing that matters is what you think about your life.  I think deep down, I know I am more than enough.  I have just spent a lot of my years, even before motherhood believing  I wasn't.


To the mums who spend their days lying in a midst of lego and figurines.  Who count a trip to Sainsbury's as a day out and a morning "colouring in the lines" as an accomplishment.  Sitting on the toilet seat with your cold cup of tea having your toe nails flicked by a baby and your toddler asking to see your poo plop - you are enough.  When you are planning one evening 4 months in advance to spend time on your own, nervously wondering if you are still you - you are.  You are the best version of you that you have ever been.

You are a mum.  An unf*ckwithable mum.

You are a friend, a councilor, a healer and miracle worker.
You are strong and brave.
You do the work of twenty for free.
You have learned to know a person inside out, more than yourself.
You can love unconditionally, selflessly and true.
You are a human shield to the world.
You believe in the impossible because you overcome situations you
never thought you could handle, but you did.
Even if at first thought you don't believe it, with your second you will.  You
know deep down how amazing you are.

You ARE a mum.

I AM a mum and so long as I am doing that to the best of my ability, I will always be enough.