A Mother's Love: Memories That Have Made Me

So much has happened in my life already, and a lot of those experiences have stayed with me.  They are not all monumentous, nor are they all life changing.  But every single one of them (and the countless more that are buried deep within me) have made me who I am. 
 I hope others will join in with me and post their own memories on their blogs (or in the comments).  I will be posting mine every Friday, but it doesn’t matter when you write yours or if you wish to do them fortnightly or monthly – your writing should fit with your schedule.  If you do join I ask that you link to my blog with this link: http://emptythoughtsrewritten.blogspot.co.uk (until I’ve worked out how to create a button for you to display) and that you will link your POST (not just your blog link please) in the comments each week (until I’ve worked out how to make a linky thing for you to add your links to – I’m really not very tech-savvy!).

When my Mum was pregnant with my baby brother (who is now 5), she and I went to see my sister in a class performance.  My sister was taking Theatre Studies and, from what I remember, the piece was something that had been created by the students. What I remember most is what happened afterwards. 

Most people had left, or were in the process of leaving, and my Mum and I were still seated as neither of us felt able to move before we had to.  Suddenly my sister had a panic attack.  I’ve never known the reason, and I’ve never asked – it’s not important.  All I remember is that my Mum, who had been walking with crutches due to the pregnancy, leaped over the chairs in front of us to get to her. 

This has been one of those memories that has stuck fast due to what I learned that day.  A Mother’s love is incredible and amazing.  I never really understood before the tie between a mother and child (and perhaps I’ll never truly understand as I’m not aiming to have children), but the moment it happened, I was struck with the knowledge and understanding of just how strong a Mother’s love can be.

Choosing My Needs

750 words is a website that effectively lets you write your 'morning pages' online and then analyses them.  I don't really pay much attention to the analysis side of things, but I do like that it keeps track of how many days in a row I have managed to write something.  Last week I crossed the hundred day streak with writing my 750 words.

Unfortunately this site has to become membership only for a time due to lack of funds.  If you had told me a couple of months ago that I would happily shell out $5 a month (it isn't a lot but when money is tight you have to count every penny) for a service that I can clearly do by myself I wouldn't have believed you.  But needless to say, that is what I am now doing.

Yes, I could easily open a document each morning and write my 750 words and mark off how many days I have done it - but I know that when it comes down to it, I would be unlikely to actually do it.  The reason is simply that I have realised what a massive difference this site has made on both my writing and my health. 

I used to always use my words to get out all the crap in my head and work out what it was that I wanted to achieve that day.  I still do this sometimes but recently I have started using those words to write blog posts (such as this one) first.  The idea of morning pages is to get out the crap before writing anything important, but I have found that either way is good for me.  If I am feeling like shit emotionally or mentally, forcing myself to write something often helps me become less depressed; knowing that I need to maintain my 'streak' has helped me many times to force myself to sit at the computer and type rubbish for ten to fifteen minutes.  And of course, if I have used the words to write a draft of something like a blog post then I can go through the rest of the day knowing that I've already achieved at least something, even if it never sees the light of day (I have many posts written which are only half thoughts).

That is why I am now happily paying for the service.  I have noticed the difference – no matter how tiny – it has made in my life and I am willing to pay for my emotional and mental health as, to me, it is the most important thing in the world.  I am finally realising that it is okay to choose me, to focus on me and my needs rather than constantly trying to fix everyone else’s. 

Are there any services that helps fulfil your needs?  Let us know in the comments why/why not you pay for them.

The Worst Date: Memories That Have Made Me

So much has happened in my life already, and a lot of those experiences have stayed with me.  They are not all monumentous, nor are they all life changing.  But every single one of them (and the countless more that are buried deep within me) have made me who I am.  

I hope others will join in with me and post their own memories on their blogs (or in the comments).  I will be posting mine every Friday, but it doesn’t matter when you write yours or if you wish to do them fortnightly or monthly – your writing should fit with your schedule.  If you do join I ask that you link to my blog with this link: http://emptythoughtsrewritten.blogspot.co.uk (until I’ve worked out how to create a button for you to display) and that you will link your POST (not just your blog link please) in the comments each week (until I’ve worked out how to make a linky thing for you to add your links to – I’m really not very tech-savvy!).

I met Rik when I was out clubbing in celebration of my 19th birthday.  He was handsome and friendly, and as I had an extra hour to wait for my taxi – my friend had got the times wrong – he waited with me (in full view of busy traffic).  We swapped numbers and it wasn't long before he invited me out for a date.

This was my first (and so far only) experience of 'real' dating (all the other times the dates have come after we were 'official').  He took me to a very fancy restaurant and paid for everything.  He was sweet and thoughtful and good-looking and had a decent job - the perfect man.  Unfortunately not only was the spark missing (or the za-za-zu in Carrie Bradshaw's words), but he was the most boring person I have ever met.

I can't tell you why I found him boring, all I can say is that I figured the best way to get through the date was to get very, very drunk.  Over the course of that night I am sure I drank over two bottles of wine, and wine is the drink my body reacts the most to, I usually get tipsy just from one glass.

After the meal we went to a bar (which is where the second bottle of wine was consumed as well as, possibly, other drinks).  It turned out that a guy who was a friend of a friend, and who I'd had a tonsil match with a few weeks earlier, was also in that bar (everyone can trust a Wetherspoon's).  I have to admit I'm a little fuzzy on the rest of the details.  I am fairly certain that at some point I told this other guy that I wished I was on a date with him instead, I am still hopeful that Rik missed this declaration but I doubt I'll ever know.

When I realised that staying on this date would be a big mistake I rang my mum to come and collect me.  I then had to deal with her yelling at me for leaving her in the cold for twenty minutes. Seeing as it takes fifteen minutes to drive from home to the pub, that's thirty five minutes I seem to have displaced, as, in my mind, I went straight to the car only stopping for a moment to throw up everywhere.  Rik, ever being the gentleman held my hair back and made sure I got to my mum okay.

This wasn't the first time I had got so blindingly drunk, but realising just how bad my binge drinking had got I stopped drinking alcohol at all for the rest of college.  Of course, this meant that when I got to Uni, I had an even lower tolerance for alcohol though I have never been so drunk as to misplace time since (which, seeing as I have been very drunk since then, proves just how drunk I must have been).

So what I learned from this is NEVER drink and date at the same time - well, don't excessively drink anyway!  Do you have an embarrassing dating or drinking story?  Share in the comments.

Commitment and Trust

Today in his One Thing Today podcast, Michael Nobbs talked about trusting ourselves and how that trust can be lost when we commit to things but then are unable to do them due to our limited energy and end up backing out at the last moment.  This struck particularly hard with me as I am aware of the number of times I have said ‘I’m going to do this’ (especially on this blog) and share my plans, only to never have them come to fruition simply because I’m physically unable to actually complete them.  I feel that I have not only lost the trust of my friends, family and readers, but I’ve lost trust in myself.

Over the past year I’ve found this very difficult to cope with as I want to be a reliable person, but often my M.E. prevents this from happening.  Michael suggests that the best way to deal with it is to not commit to anything you aren’t very sure you can finish, and in the way rebuild the trust in yourself.  I have tried this but found that I end up not doing anything because I haven’t committed to doing it and therefore don’t have the motivation to do it (my self-discipline is a work in progress).

For me I feel the solution is somewhere in between but it’s a delicate balance I have yet to find.  At the same time I know I am making progress.  As I said, for a long time I just didn’t commit to anything, but a couple of weeks ago I committed to my ‘Memories That Have Made Me’ Friday posts.  While I feel I did wait longer to introduce them than perhaps I should have, knowing that I am being reliable and posting them every week has had a huge effect on me.  I’m still not ready to share a lot of the plans I have for fear of what will happen to my self-confidence if I fail, but it feels as though I have taken a step in the right direction. 

How do you cope with commitments?  Do you over commit to more than you can manage?  Do you under commit?  Or have you found that magic balance that works for you?  Let me know in the comments.

Apparently Yesterday Wasn't Sunday

You may have noticed that I posted a 'Sunday Shout Out' yesterday, and yes, I really thought it was Sunday as I wrote and posted it (even though I also knew that Doctor Who was on in the evening - explain that!).  Lately all my days get mixed in my mind; I never know which day it is even though I am constantly asking myself and checking (or perhaps I am asking and checking because I don't know).

I thought it was because everyday is essentially the same for me.  Other than the carers and the physio on Mondays, I have no structure to my week.  I think, though, that it is more to do with the fact that I spend the majority of everyday lying down resting and sleeping (not through choice I might add).  This is confusing me, making me constantly unsure of which day it is and what time it is.  Thankfully this doesn't stop me from missing any appointments, I think that's because I have so very few that I plan my life around them.  Going to the doctors or Tesco is often the highlight of my week, especially as I often use the chance to pop into the library if I am up to it.

I could moan and groan and worry and panic about my loss of hold on time and reality, for that is what it feels like.  But that would be a waste of my precious energy.  Besides, it's not harming anyone.

So apologies for my mis-mashed days, but for now I am not going to fret and simply enjoy this Spring weather while it lasts.

Sunday Shout Out: Fairyland

Like anyone else I like to play computer games, though I tend to stick to The Sims 3 most of the time.  Fairyland is the only Facebook game that has stood the test of time for me.  I used to spend hours every day with my cafe and frontier and bejeweled, but Fairyland is the only one I still use.

If you don't know, Fairyland is an easy game where you grow flowers to attract wildlife which can be spotted by you or other players.  I say it is easy, but I don't think I've ever been involved in anything quite so complex as they are always coming out with new challenges and goals, though keeping all the past ones for everyone to work on as well.  This does mean that there are a huge variety of gardens as everyone is working at their own speed and in their own time, but it also means that it can sometimes be a bit overwhelming.  Personally I like having things to work towards so this is a bonus in my books.  The fact that is the only Facebook game to be connected to a charity so that every time you harvest a plant, you protect 'X number' square metres of the Rainforest via Nature Conservancy's "Adopt an Acre"  (this is done through donations and adverts I believe).

If you have a garden, or decide to set one up, please come and visit and water my plants!

The Mother Instinct: Memories That Have Made Me

So much has happened in my life already, and a lot of those experiences have stayed with me.  They are not all monumentous, nor are they all life changing.  But every single one of them (and the countless more that are buried deep within me) have made me who I am.  

I hope others will join in with me and post their own memories on their blogs (or in the comments).  I will be posting mine every Friday, but it doesn’t matter when you write yours or if you wish to do them fortnightly or monthly – your writing should fit with your schedule.  If you do join I ask that you link to my blog with this link: http://emptythoughtsrewritten.blogspot.co.uk (until I’ve worked out how to create a button for you to display) and that you will link your POST (not just your blog link please) in the comments each week (until I’ve worked out how to make a linky thing for you to add your links to – I’m really not very tech-savvy!).

I am going to say the thing that no one is meant to say – most babies are ugly, and all they do is eat and cry and poop.  I can just about cope with children (as long as I can give them back after a couple of hours), but I really don’t like babies and toddlers.  It’s nothing against them, just that I don’t really want to be near them as they kind of gross me out.

So it’s probably no surprise that I have never wanted to be a mother, though I’ve learned it’s best not say never; but even if I did one day decide I wanted children, I would prefer to adopt.  That’s why the feelings I was hit with when my baby brother (now five) was born, completely caught me off guard.

When my Mum first got pregnant I have to admit that I was a bit on the fence about how I felt about it.  But then there was a miscarriage, and so when she got pregnant again (I should probably add here that my parents were actively trying to get pregnant), I had more or less accepted it; though I vowed I would never feed or change the baby (which I never did).

I remember that I was watching a play at college when I got the news that I had a new baby brother.  My classmates and I always went out after shows, and that night I had drinks bought for me to celebrate (a bit weird in my opinion but I’m not going to pass up free drinks!). 

I’m not sure how many days later it was that we went to visit my Mum and the new baby.  The first thing that struck me about my little brother was that, not only was he tiny, he was actually cute, and thankfully had some hair (probably a factor in the cuteness).  And when I picked him up I almost cried from the rush of emotions that flew through me.  I felt unconditional love, but more than that, I felt worried that if anything happened to my Mum, I wouldn’t truly be able to look after him as I couldn’t produce milk.  In that moment, I felt like a mother who was unable to care for her child.  I don’t know how other people react to having a new sibling, but that certainly wasn’t how I expected to feel. 

I was embarrassed at the time to feel so effected by the baby, but now I’m fairly certain that it was nothing more than a biological response.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my little brother (and all my siblings), but that first moment was different. I believe it was my age (19), and that he was biologically related to me, that created that surge of motherly instinct.  In honesty it was kind of a relief to know that I have it in me, as I’ve always been met with ‘you’ll change your mind’ whenever I say I don’t want children, which caused me to believe that I was weird for not wanting them.  Nonetheless, it was a surprise to discover just how deeply we are imprinted with our biology.

Yesterday

For those of you who follow my tweets, you will know that yesterday was not a good day for me.  It started off okayish.  I was more tired than usual (when someone with a chronic disability says they are 'tired' what they actually mean is they are so exhausted they feel their bodies are about to collapse, so when I say I was more tired I mean I was struggling to keep my eyes open and my brain was going at half speed), but managed to get some breakfast and have the carer wash my hair.  As soon as she left I knew I had to lie down and hopefully have a nap.  About an hour later I woke up and discovered that my legs had completely given up on me.  I was lucky in that I wasn’t in much more pain than usual, but it felt like my legs were surrounded by cement so there was no way I was going to be moving them.  Thankfully my arms had just enough strength in them to get me to the loo when I couldn't hold it any longer, but that was a onetime deal.  So I pretty much spent the rest of the day in bed.

After a few hours I was able to sit up enough to go on my laptop for a few minutes (which is when I tweeted).  The rest of the day was pretty much spent repeating the resting for hours before hauling myself up to go online for a short while.

This isn't the first time this has happened to me, though it is the first time in the past couple of months so admittedly took me by surprise.  What surprised me even more was the fact that it didn't cause a major depression slide like it usually does.  There was only one point in the whole day that tears threatened to release, and that was after having to tell my housemate that I couldn't really move at that time - apparently saying it out loud is what I've been doing wrong.  The rest of the day I was impressively content.  I wasn't able to sleep much - there is only so much sleep a body will let you have - so most of the time I just thought.  I relived memory after memory, finding happiness in events that I had forgotten about.  I thought about what I'm going to write in the next couple of days (really need to find my Dictaphone so next time this happens I can record my thoughts as I am sure many of my ideas have been lost as I wasn't able to write them down).  And in general I just lived in my imagination.

The most amazing thing was that I felt completely calm in the belief that I won't stay stuck lying down in bed; but even if that were to happen I felt I would be able to cope.  Normally when I get setbacks like this I just want to scream and shout and curse at anything and everything.  This time was different and I hope that in future I will remember that I can deal with it and stay positive even when optimism seems like a useless endeavour.

So how did you spend yesterday?

Sunday Shout Out: Violet Incense

I burn a fair bit of incense.  I love watching the smoke whirl and twirl about my room as I am lying there resting; it's relaxing with the bonus of making my room smell lush in the process.  Often I burn lavender or other 'relaxing' scents but I am currently waiting for a delivery of some more of these.  In the mean time I am burning my favourite incense scent of all time - violet.

It smells exactly like the sweets of the same name that I loved as a child (you know, the ones you would suck and pretend you were 'grown up' and taking pills).  It's very sweet, and for that reason I don't usually burn more than one in a day as otherwise whenever I return to my room I am hit by the sickly sweetness of it.

Do you burn incense or candles? What's your favourite scent?  Leave your answers in the comments below.

My First Kiss: Memories That Have Made Me

So much has happened in my life already, and a lot of those experiences have stayed with me.  They are not all monumentous, nor are they all life changing.  But every single one of them (and the countless more that are buried deep within me) have made me who I am.  

I hope others will join in with me and post their own memories on their blogs (or in the comments).  I will be posting mine every Friday, but it doesn’t matter when you write yours or if you wish to do them fortnightly or monthly – your writing should fit with your schedule.  If you do join I ask that you link to my blog with this link: http://emptythoughtsrewritten.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Memories%20That%20Have%20Made%20Me (until I’ve worked out how to create a button for you to display) and that you will link your POST (not just your blog link please) in the comments each week (until I’ve worked out how to make a linky thing for you to add your links to – I’m really not very tech-savvy!).

When we are young we dream that our first real kiss will be just as magical as it is in books and films and television.  When I look back on my first kiss, I admit that part of it was awful, but I am also amazed that I somehow managed to have an amazing first kiss experience; one I will probably remember forever and which will be one of my favourite stories to tell.

I was 15 and at army cadet camp.  This is the part I’m proud of – I can honestly state that my first kiss happened right outside a real barracks on a beautiful summer evening – I had an unique setting and I love that.  His name was Paul and I had just spent the past hour or so begging him to go out with me (he eventually gave in and we went out for 6 months or so, though it ended badly) at the ‘disco’ (aka the evening activity we were expected to attend).

He walked me back to my barracks and I was more than happy to just go to bed.  But he stopped me.  I guess he figured that he deserved a kiss after my incessant begging.  So we kissed.

It was terrible.

Our teeth clashed painfully, our mouths were dry and it was generally not good.  What made the experience so memorable though was, as I turned to go to bed, he pulled me back into a kiss that I remember as amazing (can’t guarantee that was the case, but it was definitely better than our first attempt).  Perhaps that classifies as a second kiss story, but it was the fact that he pulled me back that made it so romantic to my disneyified teenage mind.

Do you remember your first kiss?  Was it good?  Bad?  Let me know in the comments or leave a link to your own post sharing your story.

Stop Resisting

I didn't have a good Easter weekend as I got myself trapped into a downward spiral.  It started with not managing to get as much sleep as I usually do, but I figured that as it was a holiday weekend I’d let it slide – this was a mistake.  The thing with chronic disabilities like M.E. is that they don’t care whether it’s a holiday or not, they attack your body and mind just the same.  Lack of sleep led to extra pain and exhaustion, which led to feeling depressed, which led to not resting as much as I should (in a futile attempt to keep the depression from increasing), which starts the whole cycle off again.

Last week Michael Nobbs wrote in his Sustainably Creative letter that when you feel you can’t take a break (because there is so much that you should be doing), that is usually when you need a break the most.  He was talking on a more overarching scale, but I after this weekend I realised it is just as true when it comes to hour by hour.  I had stopped resting and taking care of myself properly because I was feeling depressed.

The more depressed I got, the more resistance I had to resting.  It was only yesterday that it clicked: if I am feeling that much resistance, I probably should be doing it. 

So yesterday I tried to get back into my resting schedule.  It’s still a work in progress (if anyone knows how to lie in darkness for two hours at a time, 4 times a day, without getting mind numbingly bored please let me know), but after just one day I felt my attitude change.  I am still in a lot of pain and totally shattered (it didn’t help that my body refused to sleep for long last night), but in general I am not feeling like I want to curl into a ball and give up completely, which is how I felt for most of the long weekend.  I just needed to give myself the space to allow myself to believe (if only a little bit) in my dreams and in a future where I’m not spending every day feeling helpless and trapped.

Is there something you've been resisting?  If so, you might want to think about why you are resisting in the first place and possibly realise that it’s time to just do it.