Category Archives: #love

Run Kelly Run!

There have always been three constant presences in my life, apart from my parents and brother of course. 1) A love of / obsession with making and eating banana bread, 2) an infatuation with “The Sound of Music” and with that comes the magnificent Julie Andrews and 3) a natural ability to run. 1 and 2 have never wavered in their prominence but 3 has.

I was a pretty decent runner as a child and was heavily involved in athletic training 2-3 times a week and then run meets on top. I did everything, from the hurdles and sprint to middle and long distance. Then at the grand old age of 10, I developed a pretty debilitating eating disorder (anorexia nervosa) and of course the running had to stop, as my body was actually eating my muscles to keep me alive and hence there was nothing left to actually run with. Sub sequentially, I was actually carried in to the local children’s hospital when I was 10 years old and left there for 4 months to vegetate. To sit on a bed and not move and there was definitely no running. Of course this quickly halted my running career and I never went back to it. I am not sure why? Maybe it was because it reminded me of a time when life was easier and achievable, light and free, not controlled and regimented (my own doing I may add). Then anorexia plunged that light into darkness and politely spat out a withered, haunted, less able version of myself. She may not have been who I really was, but I embraced her all the same with her long limbed gawkiness and not a muscle in sight. She was a safe way to look, not fat, but not dying, not muscular and manly looking, but lean and androgynous.  I still exercised, but it was mainly walking and swimming,  nothing that would require strength to be healthy or actually have muscle tone, as muscle weighs more than fat remember and weight = fatness in my warped, starved, fucked up mind. Years passed and I was happy in my sub existence and then suddenly my iron fist of control of my brain and its failings became weak and old issues gained some gusto and force and ate away at the grip I held. I was crumbling under their weight, but I needed to drive them back and become strong once more. Note; My brain lacks in serotonin and the best way to gain natural, kick you in the arse serotonin is through… ……. yes ……… exercise.

So, due to my mental struggles I discovered my body and mind needed more, it was craving to be pushed and forced away from safety and comfort, to become tired and exhausted, strengthened and liberated from its boundaries, to be crushed and rebuilt (wow now that was a dramatic sentence)

Therefore, 30 years on from pulling them off, 1 marriage and 3 kids later I am yanking on my running sneakers once more. Inspired by my ultra marathon runner husband and an innate need to push my body and earn 2 hours of quiet time, I’ve decided to sign up for a 1/2 marathon in January (baby steps) and then a 25K trail run (through the alligator infested Everglades) in February. Am I decidedly cool and inspired or fucking nuts, I’m not quite sure. As I had always vowed I would never do anything that may make me lose control of my bodily functions and really these may just do it. As in my world there is no hanging on when I need a shit, its now or a whole big mess to clear up. Now when running, I feel this could be a huge issue. So I may just have to take an enema a few hours before. People, this is a major fear of mine, so please be kind if I shit myself “Bridesmaids” style in the middle of Naples 5th Avenue, at mile 11.

My training is to be a cross train affair with 1 x 4 mile run, a yoga class, 1 swim in the week and then a long run at the weekend. Last weekend I completed 9 miles and I felt strong, it was an exhilarating feeling and actually made me cry as I never believed my body could still do this. Note this is the longest I have ever run, in my whole life and I did it alone, with my only company being a blog about cake baking. Did you know that before bicarbonate of soda and baking powder, that a cook may of had to beat eggs for 2 hours to get the same leavening effect. Now that is a a lot of beating by hand 🙂 The continuous pounding of my feet on the road, the slight discomfort of my knees, the ability to calm my breath and regulate it (I have anxiety) into rhythmic, steady breaths was empowering (I do hate this word, its kind of new age wanky), it settled me and pushed me into a space of meditation. Which I find I can never do sitting still with my eyes shut. I was alone, so I could notice the little things and sights, small details were prominent as manicured shrubbery and well built houses bobbed past to the steady pounding of my feet.

One hour and 30 minutes passed and I was sad to stop, the personal achievement overwhelmed me, yes I know its only 9 miles, but that is 9 miles, I never thought I could do. I must admit the amount of calories I burnt appealed to my suppressed anorexic self, the serotonin pumping through me sated the bitch I call anxiety, she is always looming with intent, my muscles were soft, stretched and fluid, when they are usually tightly wound and stiff. I felt good, my body beaten, but my mind rested and I remember my childhood, the need for this, my love of this and the sadness of those lost 30 years. I’ve felt so happy and calm and rested and driven. I am emerging from the years I left my self to fallow, curled up in my shell, protecting myself, scared to push the boundaries and crack that shell. A 10 yr old Kelly Dixon is in there, she is ready to come out and show you who she really was then and really is now in her older 40 year old form. She is no longer frightened or controlled, but open, raw and ready to just be. Not frightened or ashamed of who she is, the kooky, weird kid and now the kooky, weird adult. But you know what? I have missed her, she is resilient, sharp, honest and kind and I am proud of her. She will continue to run and run and push and finally break down everything she has built and reveal her vulnerable core, still 10 and waiting to truly live.

Next I will run 11 miles and then 13 and then who knows maybe I will double that – I had better buy some diapers 🙂

Wanted! – A better parent?

In a million, trillion years I am not a great parent, a goodish one, yes, a moderately passable one, yes-ish. So for me to achieve greatness, I have a long way to go. A super, loooooonnnngggg way. Like 30 thousand miles plus, of an arduous and highly lengthy journey. In reality I totally do not have my shit together in the semblance of any form of an acceptable package.

I swear too much in front of my kids, always with the caveat that, only I can do that and it is not until they leave my home can a “fuck you, you ass hole” ever pass their lips. After 5 pm, it is not the witching hour for my kids, but for me. Excessive noise, screaming and shouting, too much homework, will send me into a whirling dervish melt down, frenzy, maybe a little wall kick or two. I too am a mere human, with an extreme sensitivity to too many people and too much noise> Therefore, technically I am kinda buggered, that I gave birth to 3 boys, hence 2 kids too many and 2 boys too many, if any shred of sanity was going to survive. Swimming, counselling, lots of love, hugs and the occasional bottle of wine, will sooth the pain.

So then, it got me to thinking, would I be a better parent if I lived closer to my parents and family. If all that pressure was taken off my shoulders and I could drop them off for an afternoon or evening and decompress. So I could readjust and just be. Even pee without an audience would be awesome, “mama can I see your poo poo?” the resounding answer BTW is a ” HELL NO”. I feel there are so many positives for being closer to family and not living 5000 miles away. However, is it any easier for those who do live near their folks, are some decisions made for you, without you knowing, do you feel obliged to have to conform to family traditions that you may not like or even agree with? I do think a lot of guilt could also play a part on not wanting to conform, are there too many influences in the kids life, your life, too much can be as tiring as too little? That type of pressure must be immense.

However,I  do feel my kids miss out hugely on extended family, cousins and grandparents and I miss out on a web of love to fall back on. I believe, I would parent more effectively and a touch calmer maybe, if the support was there. I know for sure, I would be richer, if we did not have to pay babysitters just to get adult time. Yet on the flip side, my children get all of me, the good, bad and ugly. They understand my humanity and they also know, I am not always right and that I am flawed and love them until I hurt and that is OK, it is OK not to cope and cry and release their emotions, maybe that is why my house is SO LOUD, wild, raucous and emotional.

Yet, parenting is not a walk in the park, no matter what situation you are in. You are perpetually tired, stressed, bombarded emotionally from all angles, no kid is perfect and neither are we. We do the best we can with the village and tools provided to us. People ask  how you do it, but the answer for all, is you have to, there is no alternative, if we do not do it, who will? No one ever knows the full situation, of your life, what lies beneath the skin, at the core of you, its still you, a person, a parent, someone who needs love and care as well.

The up shot is, I think I would be a better mother if I were near my family, but I also do not dislike the way I do parent, I am constantly working at it, I have made all my own decisions for good and bad. This was my choice and I live with it every day and every day I do feel guilty for my kids that we are so far away, but, I remember they also have a quality of life, that we could not have provided for them in England. They have so many opportunities that I never had as a kid and I want them to play golf, tennis, hockey, learn to ski, sail boats etc etc, we could never have given them that back home, we just would not have had the money. We get to see daddy ever night, in the UK he would be commuting and never home. So I do not feel sorry for our choices, yet always,a little sad we are so far away, as I miss our families deeply ,their love, laughter and eccentricities.

However, to all parents, I say this. To those who do it alone, the single parent homes, the homes who also look after the grandparents, the homes with help, no help, money, no money, the homes where parents have their own issues, kids with disabilities, illnesses. Remember,we are all the same. Be kind to each other, help each other on this journey we are on, it can get long and it can be lonely, talk to each other, share the greatness and the shitness of your day, as we have all been there at some point.

We love our kids, we do our best, we fail, we succeed, we laugh, we cry, we do the fucking best job we can and then try to do it better and that is what parenting is all about.

 

 

POEM

Yesterday I quit Facebook,

Today I skipped my Prozac.

2 months ago I abstained from coffee,

Lets hope Mrs Anxiety does not come back.

My heart has not raced yet – Phew

My breathing remains long – Ahhhh

I have not broken down just yet – Woo Hoo

Not sure if I will stay strong.

Last week I thought I was Asperger s,

I think it will be my excuse.

For when I crumble and go nutty,

When I ramble and become obtuse.

The fear is mounting, I push it down,

What will happen with no drugs?

Thank Fuck, I still have alcohol,

Not an alcoholic yet, as I’m not hiding it in mugs.

The peace away from social media is lovely,

Functioning without SSRI s is divine.

I kinda really miss the coffee,

Not panicking is sublime.

I am not sure what I am,

or who I will become?

I never really fitted in to life,

But being odd is fun.

So good bye Facebook, you will be missed,

Prozac I am stronger than you.

Coffee, oh coffee, you are so so loved,

And Anxiety I will beat you too.

 

 

Favorite dirty secret.

I’ll just throw it out there. We may all lie to ourselves and to every human we meet, but deep down in the depths of our hearts , we all know we share a guilty secret. A secret that can never be voiced, a dirty lie we repeat over and over again, hoping that someday the truth will just Rest In Peace in the recess of our soul. But, it will always be there at the edge prodding you, reminding you, I’ll say it quickly and quietly, “we all have a favorite child” … gulp , shit, did I say that out loud, but hey, there, I said it . STRIKE ME DOWN and don’t fucking deny it, we all have that kid that is truly part of you, who gets you, wants to be with you, loves you like no other, who resonates with every ounce of your body, it’s like they are the other half of what you could have, should have been, a far better you, they took the best of you and made it amazing in their own wonderful bodies.

Of course we all love our kids equally but differently and would split the world apart to keep them safe, happy and nourished, but there is that one who is a little cuter than the rest… now be honest !

I dare you to deny it, we all know in our families who has been the favorite, it’s the adult you connected with the most. I adore my parents but I truly connected with my nanny, my mums mum and yes I’ll just say it, I was her favorite, we were similar and familiar to each other and a part of me is forever missing now she has left this world. 

Love is so present, but it changes, the love of my husband, K1/2/3, damn cat, friends and my family. It morphs and moulds to the feeling and connection you have with these people and YES we have favorites and I’ll never truly trust anyone who says otherwise .

Bloody liars ..