Category Archives: #kids

Silence

I am in shock. Today I wandered aimlessly around my soul feeling, helpless, lost, traumatized and empty.

Another accepted mass shooting of innocents, when a man, who is barely an adult decided to walk into a school and snuff out 19 lives. 19 young lives who had barely started to live. 2 teachers who had given their life and lives to caring and nurturing children. GONE, in the space of minutes, seconds, moments in time. A breath and then nothing. SILENCE!

I will never understand America’s fascination and desire for guns. They are killing innocents daily! But that’s ok, as long as you have an arsenal in your basement.

I am a mother of three young boys, similar ages to the children so brutally murdered this week by just going to school. I felt sick packing them up and sending them to the place we see as safe away from home. I began to imagine life without them, about never holding them again, hearing their voices, their touch, their laughter, their voices, wiping their tears, cleaning their knees, curling around as they slept after a nightmare. My heart has shattered into a 1000 pieces, my eyes keep weeping tears, I know I would never ever recover, I too would want to stop breathing, to stop feeling the pain. Just like the crushing, unfathomable pain the parents of those 19 children, who never came home with excitement in their eyes to show artwork in their bag. Children who will never realize their full potential, who could have made this world better, brighter, happier. Now all there is are empty seats, homes all left a little darker. SILENCE

I am too broken from afar to be angry, I am devastated, shocked, distraught and perplexed how none of this creates change. Lives are expendable it seems, lesser than money, a price to pay for power and control.

BUT we must change. We must address mental health, the childcare system, and gun laws for this to stop. It has to stop, we CANNOT as living beings accept this aimless, needless brutality and death.

It is the silence that kills me, the gap that is left when a person leaves this world. please do not let these kids’ lives be in vain, let a small ounce of goodness come from this hell, let them be the catalyst for change, for kindness.

I implore you, please as you navigate this fantastical world, reach out to the quiet ones, push for change, fight for what is good, look for the lonely ones, be kind to the hurt ones, be a mentor, give back, love with all your might, know that a baby is never born evil, a society creates hate. Create a society that we can feel safe and loved in, don’t dismiss another’s pain, welcome it and hold their hand. We are the change, us, the regulars of the world. Be that change.

No more silence, it is the silence that kills.

Be kind

Love true

LOVE

I would say that this is surely the most written and sung about subject in the entire existence of humanity. “Love”, such a short word that encompasses a plethora of emotions. All of which equate to, or are, the result of being in, feeling, receiving and giving love

LOVE – even has three meanings in the dictionary

1 – an intense feeling of deep affection.

2 – a great interest and pleasure in something.

3 – a person or thing that one loves.

The topic is huge, the breakdown of emotional and physical response of the word could take me weeks to discover each delicate strand that coils around to make the rope that curls around a heart. The heart, the organ that sustains life and is continuous in its persistence to keep us alive and to experience LOVE.

There is a wealth of love types, a love of a friend, dog, parents, partner, things, nature, life.

Yet I want to talk about the purest of love, the mothers love for a child. A love physically born from you. A love that shares your DNA, a love you carried inside for 9 long months, unbeknownst at that moment to be the most powerful love of all, a love you fed from your body. It is an untarnished, unquestionable love. I sadly do not have the super powered intelligence or breadth of vocabulary to explain it, but I will try.

When I look at my child it is like two warm soft hands are grasping my heart, crushing me so hard that the air from my lungs have been ripped away by a warm, persistent current. It’s like the sun caressing me on a slightly chilly day, illuminating each cell in my body and making them vibrate in harmony. When I look at my children’s faces, hold their hands, smell their hair, feel their soft cheek against mine as they whisper “mummy I love you” love pulsates out of me and covers them in a nurturing blanket. A blanket that will always wrap around them, ensuring they know I will always love them. It is infallible, unbreakable, a titanium tower of surety that I will always be there to care, with arms and heart wide open. I am theirs and no one else’s. Yes, I love Kieron my husband deeply, but that love can change with the day, the year, the person and circumstances, it is not necessarily forever, as much as I hope it will be.

But with a child, through life and death it is there, tangible, visible, like a light flickering across water, a shooting star in the sky, a firefly dancing through a forest, it lights up all the dark corners and glows. It illuminates kindness, dreams, hopes, emotions and needs. It is powerful, constant, suffocating, it consumes all who come within its radius and breathes life into you. Once you have inhaled that love, without it you will surely drown. I would die for that love, I would place myself in front of my child and take whatever life hurls at me, I am their shield, their knight, their champion. FOREVER.

A mother’s love is the strongest of all loves

Love Kelly, A Mother of Dragons.

Hey, I’m not stupid! Says the mother…..

I was listening to a podcast today and they were discussing, how no one ever recognizes raising kids, or being a carer as a full time job. That it should be celebrated, appreciated and quantified in value. Yet, I am not writing this piece from the stand point of “hey look at how hard this job is”, or how much work I do, everyday, all day and night. As a parent you also do the night shift. Check me out – I am a warrior against bad dreams and bed wetting.

What I want to share is the silent shame that seems to be woven intrinsically into being a full time mum. At age 32 I became pregnant with my first child, at the time I was a project manager for a media company. I am also a 2:1 graduate with a Sports Science Degree, and have been a top 10% student for my whole schooling career. In the past I have been a fashion buyer for department stores and Levi’s Europe, an assistant Pastry Chef, blogger and recruiter.

BUT as soon as that wiggly single sperm fertilized that big ass mama egg, I became a “mother”. On a dime I decided to give up work, and work hard at being a mum. In that single moment all my education, and my entire career just faded away. From then on, all people would see, was a disheveled woman with kids!!! With snot on her shoulder and a small, dirty handprint on her thigh. All they can see is a bearer of screaming infants, and not the intelligent being that lays dormant beneath. I basically became a walking womb! A person who could not do both, who could not parent and hold down a paid job simultaneously. DO not get me wrong I tried to do both, but I crumbled, I was up working at 5 am and starting again at 9 pm and trying to parent in between. I could not do either job well, and I was failing miserably.

Today I cried when I heard that podcast, because, I do feel like life has kind of passed me by when it comes to work. I am a 44 year old mother of 3. Seriously no one wants me, when you read the numbers. When people cast their eyes in my direction and look me up and down, I want to scream, “PLEASE see me, I am smart, I have ideas, I can create and be creative, Hey hey hey I can still do mental arithmetic in my head, go on, go on, test me.

Yet, why? Why do I feel like I need to hang my head as I mumble, yes I am a full time mum, full time care giver. Is it my own internal shame of working failure, or did society create this. “Oh you don’t work”??? What you settled into the homemaker role, what a cop out. “Dumb bitch” !!! I am not going to sit here and list all the shit I do every day. The continuous work I do as a parent of three. I hold my hand up high, yes I took the role willingly, but that does not make me unintelligent, so why do I have this driving need to make sure people know I have a brain

I will admit at times I feel so unbelievably lost. A languishing amoeba floating in a sea of meal planning, bed making, wound cleaning and ferrying small humans around. Yes I am single cell creature fighting to be more. Yet life right now just doesn’t see me, I am an aging shadow that no longer has the time to be fleshed out.

What do I want to be when I grow up? I still want to be an architect, a painter, an antiques buyer, museum curator, a historian, a writer, a sneaker designer, a run shoe tester, a gallery curator, a merchandiser…….

I still have work dreams. However, as a sit up at 2 am cradling a small frightened child on my lap, stroking his hair and telling him mummy loves him, I do know I have the right job. I was made to be a boy mum, a strong mum, a fair mum, a loving mum, a mum who will always be there….. To pick you up, take you to the dentist, to hold your hand, to take you to the zoo, to rush you to hospital, to clean a bloody knee, to make you pancakes in the morning, to bring a forgotten lunch, to see your first steps, your first smile, to hear the words mama first, to have your warm arms around my neck and your face buried in my hair, just loving you. I was made to love you.

Yes, that may not tell the world my IQ, but that makes me amazing to them, to the little people I created. It grants me the time to watch them blossom and grow, forge their own path. AND that is why I gave up work, I gave up so I could be everything to my children. AND I must stop feeling guilty about that.

That is who I am and will always be, a mama, a mother, a mum, their mom, mummy…

Love ME

BOYS BOYS BOYS

“Make sure you raise your boys right!”

OK? What does that even mean? What is exactly “right”?

To be kind / clear up their plates / not be an abuser / give to charity / not drink to excess / learn to cook a three course meal / to not touch small children inappropriately / to not be a racist / help the elderly with their shopping. Clearly “all of the above”, yes?

What exactly do you mean? Please clarify.

As a mother of three strong, independent, loving, smart, athletic, caring, sensitive, creative boys, over the years I have either read or have been told the above sentence multiple times, always from the mothers of all girls. Every time I smile with a grimace, nod my head mechanically and secretly want to come back with “well please can you do a good job with your girls” .

What you mean to say is please make sure your son, is not an alcoholic, chauvinistic, wife beating, raping , pedophile, Correct, is that what you want to say to me over coffee?

The thing that shocks me is that, in today’s modern society, apparently all men are born bad. That unbeknownst to them, my boys have been placed in a :”box” before they have even had their first wet dream, I mean who knows, blimey they could be homosexual, would that then make it all ok?

The thing that hurts most is, I am a female, and as a woman, I want to be treated equally, kindly, with love, to not be raped, abused, beaten or touched inappropriately. Like many, I have not escaped all scenarios, and I am a product of some very unfortunate moments when a man did bad things to me. So, please excuse me while I damn well make sure my beautifully caring boys are raised to treat women as their equal. I also have taught my boys, that none of the above sentence is OK to happen to them either. That none of the above is acceptable to happen to them AT ALL! They too are worthy of love, kindness, and to be treated equally. They are the good guys too.

Firstly, let me say OUT LOUD, that my husband and I love them with every part of our souls, my kids know they are loved and are worthy of unconditional love.

We are teaching them –

Everyone has feelings. That kindness above all things will get them far in the world. To love with passion. That other peoples feelings should be respected, but do not have to be taken if inappropriate. That NO means NO in all aspects, for them and for others.

We are also working on the idea women are different anatomically but equal. That women are the bearers of life and that is pretty damn magical. What is more, a small boy needs to know that his mama carried him for 9 months, she fed him from her body, she kept, and will always keep him safe. Your mama made you.

What do you mean “raise them right” ?

I AM , I do not need anyone judging my small child or me, before he has even developed his own feelings, thoughts, likes and dislikes. You have judged my son because he has a penis, because he is male. Men are not the bad guys, society is, poverty is, the government is, a failed system is. “THEY are not born EVIL” All children are born GOOD, clean, wholesome and pure. We were all children once. Please remember that.

As parents we all have a responsibility to our children to be the best parents that we can be. To nurture, support, listen to and love them. Please, stop making my boy start his life on the back foot, constantly trying to prove he is worthy of the sex he was given. He is worthy, he is human, he has feelings, he has fears, he is a child

So, in answer to this ambiguous phrase, YES he will be raised “right” because, to receive kindness, love, compassion, help, you too must give, you must listen and be listened too. As absolutely no one should ever be put in a box, and told who they are, before they have even be able to make a choice.

My boys are good and a penis doesn’t change that. Choices do.

Love “a mother of boys”

Open and Unashamed.

As always, I will start with a caveat.

I write this piece not to generate a circle of shock, sympathy, or embarrassment. I write this to be honest. To allow people to lift their heads and look away from the shame of difficult moments in time. To know that experiences no matter how terrible, hard, or heartbreaking should not be hidden. Do not conceal emotion because it might make the other person uncomfortable. Or hide beneath its cloak of darkness, as this will only shield your light, and dull your emotions.

Experiences are factual, they happened, and it is fucking OK to share what hurt, as much as what made you smile. Life does not define you, it created you, experiences educate you on how to live, about good people and bad people.  It teaches you that you are strong, and from each uncomfortable act, a flicker of kindness can be ignited. Allowing you to reach out from under the suffocating blanket of mortification.

Most of you know my story. I have always been extremely open, probably to the chagrin of many. But it is my survival tactic, once I have voiced it, it can be looked upon, analyzed and allowed to float away. I mean, It is not like I walk up on a first meeting and say…  “Hey, I am an anorexic, I have been depressed, self-harmed blah blah blah”. NO! Shit the only person I did that with was with Kieron, as I thought he was way too nice for me and could not believe he genuinely liked me. I thought I could scare him away. Instead, he told me he loved me.

Here is my list in black and white. Know I am not ashamed, yes these things can be hard, but I also know that many people have gone through the same and hold on too tightly to a guilt that is not theirs. I know many who have been through excruciating experiences and they have survived. Like all of us with baggage, they continue to live and love their lives as best they can. Especially on the days life allows that freedom from pain.

In Chronological Order: –

~At age 6 I was abused by a man in my parents’ circle – the details are not needed, my parents now know, and are heartbroken. It is no ones fault except his. It was a long time ago, and it was from that moment life started to hit me hard. It created so much pain that I have diligently had to work through. I acknowledged it in my 40s with the help of a Psychologist, and then a heavy wave of relief flooded through because everything now made sense. I am not ashamed, I was angry for long time and I cried a lot, but this was not my fault.

~Therefore, at age 9 I developed a severe eating disorder. This is why I purposely hurt my body, this is why men frightened me, this is why I was in and out of hospital, this is why I was 2 weeks from death at age 10 (malnutrition) this is why I was told to stop running, and this is why I do not like my body. But I am not ashamed, I know exactly what I am.

~I had a “Me Too” moment. As a female I know most of us have.  I am not ashamed.

~I do not like my body. I am like a spider, I have no breasts. I have learnt to understand and appreciate my body. It does not mean I think it is pretty.

~I was told when I was age 12, I could not have children. But with time, hard work (on myself) to get to a good weight, at age 30 I had my first period; yes, my first. I went on to have 3 beautiful boys. My body is now a machine to me, but it is amazing, if defied the odds, my hatred, and gave birth to life. I am not ashamed.

I lost a baby. This broke my heart and it still hurts today. It was extremely early in my pregnancy, but it hurt, it hurt so much, I felt like my body had let that sweet baby down. I am not ashamed; we do not talk about this ENOUGH as women!

I developed crippling anxiety at age 34, I had panic attacks often and they were not rational. Each day I woke up thinking I would die from a heart attack, or a meteor would wipe out the world, we would die on a plane, in a car, I struggled to do anything. The boys have seen me collapse in a ball crying, Kieron has had to listen and try to understand why I rushed myself to ER when I thought I was dying. This is where my running has helped, my anxiety improved with my discovery of abuse, this is not my fault. Medication and hard, fucking hard exercise have been a life changer. I still suffer today and that is OK.

I have been taking Prozac since I was 10 and I have seen multiple Psychologists. – I am not ashamed

I AM NOT ASHAMED, and I will NOT apologize for writing this.

This is me. I feel that people who go through this and more have something to give back. They have a light you must see, they have a light to share, they understand people, they are there to hug you hard when you hurt, to listen to you when you are sad. Because they know. They are not weird, broken, or damaged goods. It is those cracks that let you SEE THEM, to see their heart. They can help you; they can love you “right” if you let them, do not turn your back or hide, they will never judge you.

We need to talk about all these topics and more, so much more than this tiny list. People are out there being hurt, discarded, and forgotten every second of every day. Open you heart, your arms and experience and tell them – “Please do not be ashamed, I understand, and I am here for you”.

The Kids are Alright!

Yes, that is a quote from “The Who”

It has been a long, yet weirdly short eight months.

Eight months ago, in a land far, far away (come on, we all love a good fairytale! No?). The Joy family ventures off merrily, on their much anticipated Spring break jaunt. Skiing. Snowmass, Colorado, here we come!

Then BOOM Coronavirus hits, as our esteemed President likes to call it “The flu from Chi – Na” (I still crack up when I hear him say this word!). We finish our week skiing – Snowmass shuts down. We spend a weekend in Boulder, restaurants shut down, we have to queue to get into Wholefoods, but then I feel like that store does love to make you feel slightly unworthy of shopping there. Toilet roll – SOLD OUT, Sanitizer – SOLD OUT, any semblance of liquid soap – bloody SOLD OUT. Finally the axe fell, schools closed their doors, and we were banished to our basements. Sitting in the gloom, bathed in the deathly glow of a subpar laptop and harangued by a wealth of teachers. Who really had no fucking idea what they were doing (no criticism intended) just stating facts.

AND there we all were festering. One overwhelmed, anxiety driven mother; I seriously thought we were all going to perish on a daily basis. A “at home” working husband who is always on an important call and then add three small dragons (boys) lost in the ether, breathing fire at us all. EEEKKK

Spring Break was looooonnggg.


Time marched on and we have had to all learn to be together and let me tell you that this is by no means easy. Ummm I like my own space, I like to not be constantly watched, asked for 30 million snacks, water, toilet roll etc etc. I do not want to be responsible for trying to keep the kids online and on top of that actually learning. All I wanted to do, was to let them swim and watch old movies, if only if it was to experience a little peace.

We had screaming matches and fist fights (kids). Blood was spilled, furniture broken, glasses smashed and usually over the minor fact that someone had tapped their fingers a little too long. We have learnt to be tolerant of each other’s annoying habits – OR NOT, mainly NOT. I spent my days trying to keep them quiet, while daddy held down a job. Then, if that was not hard enough, we decided to just pick up and move all of us from Florida to Colorado. That was clearly not easy or stress free – online schooling came in handy then.

I had to manage tiny people melt downs, from missing friends, hating the “Corona”, wanting to be at school, we have copious amounts of anger and laughter. I have been told daily that I am hated, just for enforcing a rule, which ultimately will make us all better people, or I may have just asked for a small person to help mama and empty the dishwasher. This enforced eight months in each other’s pockets has opened my eyes up to the fact, that the kids truly think I am the dumbest person in the room, that I know nothing and I have been nowhere. When in fact, beneath this dippy looking exterior of mine I am the ONLY person in the room (remember my kids are all boys of ages 11, 8 and 5) who has a upper class degree in Sports Science, was in the academic top 10% of kids at high school and travelled the world in her 20’s. But still to these three boys I know nothing. Deep breath Kelly, calm and collected… Be nice, be nice I tell you woman.

The months drag on/fly by and the kids are still home, still no school. My house looks like an elephant has stampeded through, I have mountains of washing tall enough to rival Mount Washington, I have given up on homemade food, my hair looks like a birds nest and I have aged at least 10 years. Seriously, no judgement please, or at least silently in your head.

Tick, tock, tick, tock ……. Another month trips by, summer in COVID passes, vacations are cancelled, family is missed. Yet, new adventures and friends are made.

Then on one glorious sunny Colorado day, announcements are made – THE KIDS CAN GO BACK TO SCHOOL. My heart lifts, the kids scream for joy and they are all rapidly booked for a haircut, as I am currently in possession of three very shaggy bears.

Our freedom is returning, we can all start to stretch our wings and break free from our family nucleus. As much as I have been extremely worried about the children, we have all learnt so much, yes even dumb mummy and we all know how stupid she is. 🙂 We have learnt to be –

Tolerant of each other.

To care for each other always.

That we all love to watch 1000 repeats of “Jessie” and the “Simpsons”!

That you can truly never have enough ice cream.

That the impact of an action has a profound effect on the group, good or bad.

That we genuinely love each other.

On that note my eldest (who is in school two days a week) has just come out to inform me, that there has been 340 days of Coronavirus thus far.

So, after eight months at home together we are relishing our time apart. You see, my friends do not think I am an idiot (I hope not). Everyday I am living, loving and relishing, as we all know this could all change tomorrow. With another lock down, another spike, and we are thrown back together. These eight months have also taught me that my kids are alright, I am alright. That with all that can be taken away, we can still love each other, hug, be silly, dance wildly and learn to be silent, together.

I have to admit there had been a high chance of serious injury and maiming with my crazy kids all together, but they are definitely ALRIGHT!

Love hard, live with ferocity, care for others, laugh a lot, adventure with intention, be silly, hug when you can and always, always be kind.

And you will be just fine.

Love dumb mummy. ( I think that upset me you know 🙂 )

A walk on the WILD side.

As a mother of boys, my life is rarely quiet, so much so I collectively call them my dragons, my wildlings. I even call myself the MOB (Mother of Boys) or the MOD (mother of dragons). The MOB sounds more badass.

Being a boy mum, I spend most of my days, breaking up fights, soothing egos, washing dirty clothes and regulating video games. The other half of my day is spent picking up sticks left lying EVERYWHERE, flushing forgotten shits and pees, mopping yellow stains off the floor, fishing earth worms out of pockets and learning extensively about the Avengers, astronauts and Star wars in detail.

When the whoops, fights and wildness reach a fever pitch that there is no return. I bundle them up, off out the door, to skip up a mountain with all the well behaved, sedate children, chatting to their parents and acting like angels. Mine are not those kids. It also takes at least 30 minutes to put on socks and find shoes. We fall out of the front door to screams, as one kid puts a worm on another kids head. To arguing profusely about the “I go first” saga, as the hierarchy and boyish power struggle re starts. By the way we have gotten like 50 meters up the road. 100 meters up the road, someone has been hit on the back with a stick (fucking sticks), another kid has climbed over a front lawn to put their hands in a water feature and the last has decided to touch every trash can up the road, as they are suddenly super interesting . Then, in mid flow of me telling him to back up from the trash, he walks in front of a car and then careers back and across the path of a COVID mask wearing couple. They look at him in horror and recoil like cast members of the “Matrix”. While he proceeds to scream and holler at his brother, who thinks he needs to be a parent at that very moment. People must think we re nuts and heathens, we are now a mere 150 meters up the road.

We make it to ‘the hill” another stick fight, one loses the capacity to use his legs and the third at that very moment desperately needs to go for a poo. So much so, he is running in circles shouting “what if it comes out of my mouth arrgghhh” ? We get to the top, this is 800m, ALL OF THEM ARE STARVING. Snack break, poo forgotten. Now it is a race back down, off they go whooping and shouting like cowboys and Indians, flailing! All arms and legs and yup there we have it, a small body catapults in to the air and slams on a rock. ONE TWO THREE here it comes, wait for it, WAIT FOR IT…… A blood curdling scream flies out of his mouth ARRGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Older brother pipes up, “oh you are a bit dramatic” Tyson comes out of hurt child and charges at brother ROOAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR . Fight number 788 ensues.

Almost home, Almost fucking home. nothing we do is calm, nothing we do is stress free, nothing we do is quiet.

signed The MOB

Body Slammin!

Yes, it is quoted from a Prince song (love Prince).

This week in Kelly’s world, I ran head long into an emotional wall of everything. The stress that I have held so tightly hidden in the dark recesses of my mind, finally exploded out and blinded me. All sense of rational fell to the wayside and I lay there raw, burnt and exposed like a flapping fish, flailing in the mess of my cerebral matter. OMG I love being dramatic.

First up – I am so fucking tired, secondly I am so fucking tired and thirdly my kids always have to tell me something urgently at 2am – SOOOOOO FUCKKKINNNNGGGG TIRRREEEEDDDDDDDDDD.

Let me also say that as a family of 5; this includes 3 small boy fire breathing dragons, we decided to move across country, which technically is like driving across 6 countries to a completely new state. There we are shadows of our former selves, jacked up to the eyeballs on gas station fayre and we rock up to our new abode with no friends or family. All of this is achieved, slap bang in the middle of a pandemic. Stupidity, springs to mind in hindsight, or maybe lets just rip the band aid off, really fucking hard! OUCH! Anyway that is what we did, armed with masks, disposable gloves, a whole bunch of excitement and gung ho, All Griswold like, hammering it through in 28 hrs. and a Harry Potter Audible.

We arrived, we unpacked, we melted down. BOOM

Well I melted down and it keeps sweeping over me in waves of remembrance for the excited high of the “Let’s do this war cry”. Now cometh the slump, the loneliness and the inability to meet others due to social distancing. I know I should be stronger or pretend to be, but, I am not sorry that I am not. Because you know what it really is ok to feel, to be sad and to accept those feelings and then move on. So, I will sit uncomfortably in these emotions, look upon them, feel them, nor hide or run away, I will let them wash over me and float away. This may take 2 days, 2 weeks, 2 months, but they will go and I will emerge having learnt something about myself. That I am a fucking, selfish cry baby, but at least an honest one. But, if I cannot do that, the sadness will eat away at my brain, that then stops me eating and I will become ill again and I cannot do that now, because I have a husband and children who need me.

So if you are sad, be sad, angry, be angry, but share and you can always share with me.

Love, Kelly “it is ok to be sad”

Loss – Balance – Life

“Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery.” – A Brave New World, By Aldous Huxley

So much has been written about COVID 19. Extensive reporting, every blog, dick and Harry is about it. – Oh, in case you were terrified I am going off topic here oh don’t be silly. I’m all over this supposed disaster like Rona’s twin virus, clearing up the excess in healthy bodies.

New World

The Pandemic has pushed us in to a space of uncertainty and it is a hard place to navigate.

We have had to face extensive change, restrictions, enforced restrictions. The ease of life has been reduced and we as mere Homo Sapiens can get fixated on how my life ISNT rather than what it has become. I have written a few posts on the hilarity of loss and change and so have millions of others.

THE GOOD that grows from nothingness.

However, I do want to talk about the “good” we have achieved, but from the perspective of myself as a lowly human bean (Love the BFG), at home with her 3 children, nutjob cat who thinks he is a dog and a hard working but highly amusing husband.

Believe me, when I say, this is a narrow focus. Hummm, should take like 2 minutes, so I am sure you are about to pee your pants in excitement with bated breath.

TIME

This is the single most important gift that the pandemic has bequeathed to me. Life has sloooweeedd right down and I am grateful. I am not longer living at top speed, where my world is a blur and the details are lost. Instead I have stalled, and my surroundings are crystal sharp, in focus, the SD is now HD and my eyes hurt from the clarity they now must process. Life halted and nature came back in to view as my eyes grazed up from the floor, past my phone and looked out to all that is around. Oh, and I picked up a book again and started to read.

On a very personal level, time has hit back against the restless energy that possesses my every waking moment. It drives me to perpetually keep moving, but now I am forced to be still. This works against every fiber of my being. But who said therapy was easy? I am always running (literally) from myself, the demons planted there at a very young age, by an unknown assailant. The self-hatred and fears, they crept in and now reside in every cell, festering. Memories locked in my secret “brain never remember that again compartment”. It’s a dark and bleak world in there, lost but not really forgotten. Time, the pandemic, the “lock me up”, has allowed me to watch these youth formulated self-perceptions, unwanted memories and start to accept them. Allowing the light to start trickling in, illuminating the snuff dark of a disillusioned child.

SINGLE UNIT in motion

Time has enabled me to cease the intense screaming that is required to get the kids to school. There is no rush, flurry or elevated stress levels. With “crisis” school as I have now called it, because, I am certainly not homeschooling at any level of intelligence or knowledge. We are now able to wake, eat, dress, brush teeth, sit and LOG ON in a mere 60 minutes. We are learning to work together as a family. All of us are solitary but are learning to be together, a single unit. Moving forward in masse and between us we are less frequently looking back at what it once was, but accepting instead the what it has now become.

BALANCE

In life we need balance, it is an intrinsic part of our being. There has not been balance in the world for a very long time. We scrabble at home to create equilibrium, with yoga, meditation, time alone, limited screen time, but life gets in the way. We are urged to be better, work longer, faster, keep up with all that is thrown at us and if we cannot keep up we have failed, we are unwanted.

Yet, Coronavirus is bringing back that balance, in its weird body humbling way. It is reminding us we are not invincible and that our life was skewed. The world is heavy with, people, industry, war, hate, dictatorship, greed, it is dragging us down and squishing our hopeful faces into the mud and standing on them. Equilibrium has to be restored, stitched back into the fabric of our day. Coronavirus is leveling the playing field, stripping off the weight and enabling us to all see we are equal, and no one is exempt from its infiltration and grip. Everything has its direct opposite and without it, the light will feel dark, the good becomes evil, the left will become right, and the action will also become a reaction, never ending in its totality. A circle will never become whole, but always an eternal straight line, leading us in a never ending, forward motion, full speed, no time to complete the cycle and sit back to reflect – EXHAUSTING, Fucking Exhausting.

REMEMBER

We are all sitting in that same boat (all be it, 6 ft. apart) floating in an unknown sea of uncertainty, alone, solitary but united.

Re learning to collaborate, harvest empathy, see again the beauty of mother earth and being given a moment to breathe again. w

We are being released from the suffocation of our excesses. Which means she (earth) too can breathe again and begin to nurture her inhabitants in their time of need.

The virus has smashed our technological cocoon and exposed us to the rawness of our internal crux and basic needs. Because, that is what we are, basic! With all our intelligence (with some people I do beg to differ on this point) our sophistication, our needs are still basic, so very basic. When the world is stripped back, all we need to survive, is food, water, air to breathe, sunlight, a home, income to support the essentials, the ability to feel, cherish the rain on you skin and the sun on your back, smell the earth, lie down in the grass with a breeze fluttering across our face. That is life! That is what we are having to remember! It is not about how many toilet rolls you own. That is what the pandemic is revealing, in small tiny fragments. Generating hope for a future we can be proud of, that we can thrive in and a world we are happy to die in.  Eventually, giving back our bodies to nurture a future generation of hope.

And that my friends, is what the pandemic has given me, I have little fear, only hope we will and can do better.

I would like to sign off with another quote from a Brave New World – as so apt and seriously one of my favorite books.

“I ate civilization. It poisoned me; I was defiled. And then,” he added in a lower tone, “I ate my own wickedness.” ― Aldous Huxley

Peace out and now in the words of Samuel L Jackson

“Stay the Fuck at Home!”

Love Kelly

Grocery Washing Vs Grocery Cattle Run

The COVID CHRONICLES – from a deranged mother of 3. – everyone is at it.

Holy Macaroly (see mum I am trying to reign in my profanities) grocery shopping just became (thanks to our friendly little Corona Light beer virus) a little more hellish! Now please correct me if I am wrong?

Although, when I seriously think about it, nothing physically or mentally annihilates a person, like pushing a cart, carrying enough food to feed a small British village, while having to navigate groups of bored gossipers and precarious displays of tiny glass herb bottles, that clutter every aisle. Now mix in the fact I have to also lion tame three boy dragons, as they roar up and down the shiny, bright corridors of food, whooping like cowboys chasing whatever they dream up. Those damn lights jack them up every time, like moths to a flame.. AHHHHHH see the lights, see the pretty lights mummy, bam bam bam and off they shoot, diving head first in to a kaleidoscope of chip packets, whirling like demented spinning tops.

With my head down, I chase them, pushing my “baby elephant” sized cart, which is vomiting food all over the floor. Whipping around the corner at full throttle I finally land at the check out, red faced, gasping and trying not to head butt the handle of the cart. It is at this precise moment, when I can see the gaping door of freedom, that the dragons all decide to kick the crap out of each other. At the precise moment I am trying to pay.

I stand there like a dummy, fake smiling so hard at the cashier my jaw hurts. I glare at the three mini Tysons, with a look I hope is drilling in to their brains and shouting silently at those baby brain synapses JUST YOU BLOODY WAIT UNTIL I GET YOU IN CAR , you little gits.

Let me just caveat, I have serendipitously avoided the “said” above scenario for almost 2 years, thanks to the advent of “home delivery” and “pick up” grocery shopping. I am now unashamedly in bed, naked with Costco, Amazon and Publix, drinking a cup of Starbucks just to seal the deal. Those inflated prices, driver tips and delivery fees, are worth every penny, well dollar, well maybe about $30 extra. I don’t care, it saves the few brain cells I still posses in my advancing years and to be honest those herb displays.

NOW, Rona (COVID 19) has turned up to the party and she has decided to lick everyone and everything she can find. Depositing those nasty little cough bugs and chest squeezing droplets everywhere, this is royally, screwing up my home delivery system. Firstly, I cannot buy my favorites – OUT OF STOCK, Rona nabbed it. Next let me find a delivery date – NO SLOTS AVAILABLE FOR LIKE FOREVER , damn it Rona took it, that greedy cow and then obviously licked it. Now if by some weird chance I do get a delivery in like ummmm 25 goddam days, Rona must have caught “the rona” , and now we enter into a whole other performance.

Here we go……..

1) Delivery driver turns up, with wildly reduced order, Greedy Rona stole it.

2) I stand 6ft back, a terrified lunatic and feel so terrible that I do not help unpack. Instead I watch like a wide eyed lemming, as some brave person (probably licked all over by sweet Rona) has to lug my delivery to my front door and deposit it there.

3) Stranded at the front door I just look and stare. UMMMMMM what do I do now? Surely Rona has been salivating and gyrating all over that, leaving a trillion little virus particles to lurk in amongst the eggs (gold dust food) and cereal packets. All ready to get me, strike me down and pull out my lungs, so she can stamp all over them…

Thwack, thwack on go the gloves, slup, slup off come the gloves, I should just wash my hands. Bleach solution out, cloths as long as my body piled up and a clean basket by my side. I sit on the door step. HUMPH

Squirt – goes the spray

Leave – it a minute or 2

Rub – rub again (secretly panic I have COVID 19 all over my hands – run to wash hands)

In the clean box you go, Rona free food (I hope)

Repeat

No licking allowed people.

60 MINUTES LATER……

I have finished. My hands are sore, bleeding at the knuckles, like a skinny member of “Married to the Mob” and then I start on bleaching the door handles and floor, AGAIN!

So, my thought is! Which is worse? Chasing down my kids in the store like a lunatic or cleaning groceries outside in 85F heat, wearing a pinny like an complete lunatic.

I truly cannot decide.

Thanks Rona

Yours bleeding, Kelly the paranoid android.