Thoughts on life, Thoughts on work

Don’t let me die now, ok?

I’m driving through a green traffic light and thinking…

I’m only forty and I could get hit by a red light runner right now and die…

…and my life would end while I’m feeling like I haven’t really lived yet

what a shame

It occurred to me that for the past 9 years the happiest I’ve ever been in my career is when I’m leaving jobs I hate…
It doesn’t bare any significance for me that I have actually been very good at all these jobs.

I’ve earnt great money, held the impressive job titles, worked for companies others desired to be a part of and yet…

…I’ve been miserable.

Empty, disconnected and dragging my tired, yearning soul through meaningless days

It’s hard to express in words the heaviness that fills your limbs, the lack of clarity or interest in tasks you once used to like…

it’s as though your very essence is blocked, nothing feels right and it seems you are playing a role without believing the script…

And here I am again

2 days from a final goodbye that will bring familiar feelings of regret and relief, sadness and satisfaction, chaos and closure.

I both love it and fear it

I know this game so well yet I feel compelled to change course…it’s as though some quiet voice of reason is telling me to be brave.

“…you are destined for more, you’ve only scratched the surface my dear…you are different to them and better than all this and you just don’t belong here…”

One minute I’m playing a game of poker and holding the biggest pile of chips…the next I’m doing a jigsaw puzzle with a million pieces and no picture to guide my hand.

My eyes are wide open but I don’t know what to focus on

I’ve brainstormed, quiz-completed, friend-talked, book-read, passion-hunted and mind-mapped every single possibility to the point of exhaustion..

I sense the void of unemployment nudging itself over the horizon and into my peripheral

I feel the thrill of new beginnings and new possibilities…but I carry the burden of decisions I am not yet able to make and questions I can’t answer

“So what now?”

(Shrug) I don’t know

“What do you want to do?”

(Sigh) I honestly don’t know

“Yeah but, what do you want to BE when you grow up?”

I actually have no fucking idea

So please don’t let me die yet

Ok?

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humanism, life

#LoveNotFear

Guns. Bombs. Terror. Murder

The world we live in is now more complicated than ever.

Fear and darkness circling us, begging our attention…tempting us to succumb to the fear and become dark ourselves.

We are fearful because we are fighting and fighting because we are fearful.

The conflicts are complicated and the solution elusive…I don’t have the answers, but I do believe in peace.

So forgive me if I choose to keep it simple.
If I choose to fight the darkness by turning on a light.

To choose not to live in fear.
To choose to believe in love.
Choose to live by love.

To simply choose LOVE

#prayforourworld #lightnotdarkness #LOVENOTFEAR

humanism, life

A million tears

I am sitting in a crowded airport lounge

Crying

.     .     .

I haven’t been moved to pause my busy life long enough to write anything down in a long time…. No poems. No funny anecdotes.

Nothing.

But today I am feeling moved.
Today I am feeling
Today I am crying

The shocking surrealism of finding terror in your own back yard.
The closeness of the fear.
The tears of our usually smiling news readers…

The realisation that no one is immune to pain.

As the long held in tears took over my weary eyes I found myself – most uncharacteristically – not caring who saw. In fact….I wanted someone to see.

I wanted everyone in the airport to see.

Not for pity
Not for sympathy

Simply for humanity

This man sitting oposite me, typing an email…I have never met and probably won’t see ever again.

This group of Asian business men…I don’t understand their conversation or know where they live.

The waitress cleaning up after our mass unrelenting consumption of wine and meals…I don’t know her story either.

But if I saw them crying

…even if I didn’t  know the reason….

I would care

And if someone unknown to all of us walked in with a gun

and stole their stories…

I would care.

If we all suddenly found ourselves clinging to each other as we hung on to our hope, our stories… our lives

we would care

Maybe we should start now…

family, life, Poetry

The struggle unseen…

I see the struggle everywhere.

Bodies aged and bent, crippled over cane
shuffled steps, shrinking shoulders.

Getting out of cars, an effort in itself. Crossing the street at painful pace.

When a metre is a mile
Understanding is a smile

The rhythm of life around them quietly mocking…

Years of life dragging down weary faces

A lifetime of frowns forged in wrinkled skin
A lifetime of working worn onto hands of grey

When the memory of youth is nothing more than that

When life has been struggle
But life is no more…

And only struggle remains

The elderly wear their age so obviously, that it is hard not to feel compassion. Show tolerance.
Have understanding.

But the weariness carried by some is often invisible.
The struggle of many, more often than not, goes unseen.

Misunderstood.

I want to tell you a story

It’s something which happened to me recently that changed my perspective forever.

I’m in sales. I sell women’s fashion at wholesale and my customers are made up of roughly 70 independent fashion boutiques owned, mostly, by women.

One of my customers is a strange woman. I shouldn’t call her strange. That’s not kind.

The thing is though, there is an aloofness and sense of disorientation that I just can’t quite explain.

She forgets things, needs explanations and reminders of simple things.

It is unnerving at best and downright inconvenient at worst.

She rarely smiles, yet doesn’t seem sad, or angry.

Just……distant

She often comes across as cold and, although I’ve never felt that she doesn’t like me or that’s it’s personal in anyway, I can’t help but feel frustrated by this slow pace, lack of mental clarity and absent….oh, I don’t know. Soul?

I’m sorry to even say that, but as I take great pride in my relationships and consider myself the consummate clichéd “people person”, I have to admit I’ve been questioning to no end just HOW, after two whole years of attempting to build a relationship, this could be all I can get!

I have asked myself, “what am I doing wrong??”

I’ve also questioned, on many occasions, “what on earth is wrong with this lady??”

(Judgement is such a natural state…isn’t it?)

Then one day recently a colleague told me something, the most horrendous of things, and it quite literally stopped me in my tracks.

That customer.
A mother.
A beautiful son the same age as mine.
A simple life on the farm.
A school break a few years ago…
A tractor.
A cord hanging loose from a jumper.
An unimaginable chain of events.
An outcome too awful

In that moment I was unexpectedly, emotionally and abruptly forced to think differently about this woman who in that very moment became anything but a difficult customer.

She simply became a mother who’d lost a child…

I almost cried, imagining her on that day. Picturing her face, feeling her heart stop beating.

In an instant I saw it all…her tears, her fear, her panic, her desperate cries…her slip from reality

I felt her disbelief and anger, felt her life and soul fall away and become separate from her very existence.

I heard her sobbing, her screams, her wails of agony, heard her pleading, her begging, her prayers, her denial, her acceptance and then…….finally……….her numb.

Just NUMB

How could I ever go back to my first impressions of her?

Two minutes of knowing her story, changed two whole years of thinking (ridiculously perhaps) that I could even begin to know the inside, simply because I thought I knew the outside.

….feeling her pain, knowing her truth and finally seeing her in a way I had NEVER done before

I now see this amazing woman exactly as she is.

I see her struggle.

Not the struggle she’s already been through, or the struggle she’s overcome.

But the struggle she’s become…..

And now I understand

crap I say, entertainment, family, humour, life, Uncategorized

Death by Mac n Cheese

We have an open door policy in our house. Sure, we use locks sometimes, but we have instilled the value of respecting privacy enough that, if a door happens to be closed, we simply knock before entering.

If, on the odd occasion they forget and I’ve stepped out of the shower just as one of the boys come running in to tell me ask me for something, I simply yell “NAKED!!!!!!” At the top of my lungs – whenever I hear the door creak.

Which usually works. Although I admit it’s kind of overkill those times when it’s the cat.

My 14 year old, God love him, doesn’t need a lock on his door.

Even if you could manage to push the door open, against the ceiling high mound of debris, and navigate successfully through the half eaten bowls of Mac n Cheese to make your entrance, the smell would most certainly stop you, quite literally, dead in your tracks.

Might explain why we haven’t seen him in a few days….

My other son, Mr 16, is never here either. But that’s just because he got a part time job.

His contribution to the family ecosystem is the crusty fast food infused uniforms that I get the pleasure of washing 4 times a week, at 11pm, ready for a last minute early morning shift change.

Oh and did I mention my Friday night ritual of drowning my 9-5 sorrows with red wine has been replaced with midnight pick ups? If the cheesey bedroom remnants don’t get me first I may just die of unintentional weekend sobriety!

Yes, I do quite like living with teenage sons….

Oh, of course I sometimes yearn for the long passed days of early morning cartoons, warm milk bottle cuddles on the couch, snotty noses and crocodile tears. I look at photos of cheeky grins behind sucked thumbs, sleeping angels captured at what most surely is mother natures most serene of moments!

And I remember little love filled hugs that wrap around your thighs and promise to never let go…

Sigh……………….

But really, who am I to complain?

I mean, nothing quite says “I love you” like a smelly armpit wrapped affectionately around your skull, while the owner of said armpit squeals in delight at the look on your face.

…cheeky grins just get filled with bigger teeth and thumbs write inspired text messages of what can only be called teenage genius!

“yep. I was late to school today, but its cool, cause I’m still getting an education”

…and the equally poetic hand written words in Hallmark Cards….

“we’ll…you’re my Mum, so I guess it goes without saying, I wish you a nice Mothers Day xxx (10 years ago I might have noticed the words more, but these days all I see are the xxx’s)

Yep! The moments of feeling like you are their whole world do become rarer…
and although it drives you crazy, they remain firmly and unchangeably, your whole reason for living…..forever.

Even if living with them does

eventually

kill you

Poetry

First Breath

For my first blog post EVER I have pondered for a whole week, just what would I say??

What remarkable morsel of inspiration would I thrust upon my waiting audience (of two, possibly three people).

Then today I witnessed something so moving, so touching that I felt compelled, in my car pulled over on the side of the road in peak hour traffic, to put pen to paper (or finger to iPhone) and the end result was, surprisingly…a poem.

So, instead of attempting to be fabulous in my first ever blog post, I have decided instead to simply open my heart.

The story, as it turns out, is irrelevant, for this poem is the story of many.

I hope you like it 🙂

No more

That he may cry…no more

That he may have life… no more

That he may fall in love…no more
No more, will he marry his sweetheart
No more…their children…

Now of age, in suit and tie
a night to dream, of youth no more

His mothers cheek the last to kiss…

That she may bury her child
That she may say goodbye

That she may have only photos and memories…

…memories of a night to dream

That she may never hold those children of his…
That she may only weep and fight…

Fight what she may feel
Fight that she may ache
Fight she should accept?

No more his dreams
No more her dreams

That he may cry….no more

That she may cry.

No more

until next time…..keep it real 🙂 xx