tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62809217271183555392024-02-08T13:50:41.791+00:00Life After RobinElanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-9541867585642274632015-03-16T18:44:00.000+00:002015-03-16T18:44:31.524+00:00Modern Man - from a ladies perspective.So we all know what a minefield dating is these days - right? Everyone online lies or at least exaggerates their good points, leaving the bad stuff out - that's advertising I suppose. Guys send rude pictures, or ask you to send rude pictures. They make outrageous requests before knowing your name. They are only after one thing. Online dating, though much more widely used these days, is getting a bad rep among us more discerning ladies looking for a genuine relationship. It even appears to be changing the way we have relationships; where we used to have some dates, getting to know each other over time etc, it all seems to be about hook-ups lately. Instant gratification. And I'm not sure that's a good thing even for the younger of us!<br />
<br />
So are all men misogynists now?<br />
<br />
When you listen to media and tales from friends of their misadventures, it would seem a large proportion of men have forgotten how to behave with a lady. Or perhaps they are not being taught at all? They say they love women, but what they love is for women to act the way they want and expect. Is this the fault of women-kind? As mothers not teaching our boys respect for women, or girlfriends putting up with bad behaviour. Are we letting men get away with being bad?<br />
<br />
Or does it run deeper? Is this a natural reaction to women gaining more power in society and men, feeling threatened, needing to put us back in our place?<br />
<br />
I am all for equality, but I do not wish to undermine the role of the male. I like men and believe firmly that society needs both the sexes to function in a good and healthy way. Lets face it though - the chaps have been running things (or thinking they have) for so long now that it must have come as a surprise to learn that us ladies are just as capable of thinking, managing, making, healing, theorising and even fighting. Are the chaps with perhaps less insight finding this difficult to deal with and rebelling a little?<br />
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Actually I don't think it's just the guys who are struggling with the new balance of power. I think a lot of ladies have taken it the wrong way too. For example, while posing naked may seem empowering and means a pretty lady can earn a great load of cash, it's not really what gaining more power and equality for women was all about. More like just playing into a dominant male societies hands. The early suffragettes would be turning in their graves. It's just my opinion, but I don't think this is putting equality for women to good use.<br />
<br />
In fact the sexualisation of everything these days is a whole other post, but I wonder if it's secretly encouraged by governments to keep people occupied with more carnal thoughts rather than actually noticing the balls-up they are making of running the place?! <i>"Keep them busy with the latest celebrity sex tape so we can get on and sell off the NHS"</i>. Am I cynical? Maybe, but it's the way things are that have made me that way.<br />
<br />
Society used to have firm rules which seemed to keep most people happy and polite. With the braking down of those values it's almost as though anything goes, and people are unhappy and impolite as a result. I'm not saying we shouldn't have progressed, but I do think we are in a state of flux at the moment - kind of in between change happening and people accepting it - and I sincerely hope that common decency will resume shortly and leave us all in a better world.<br />
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So chaps - it's not OK to send ladies photos of your tackle without permission. It's not the norm for sex to all be about S&M - if you get off on hurting others, or being hurt by them there's something not quite right. It's still polite to open a door for any fellow human being. Women are not possessions, but have real feelings - as I think do you, underneath it all. And it's really not OK to not listen when a lady says 'NO'. Try not to bring trauma from your last relationship into a new one - we are no more all the same than you are. Don't tell us you love us, then decide we just don't fit into your life. (And these are just some problems from the western world - don't get me
started on female genital mutilation, or subjugating women by dictating
what they wear). Women are sensitive, emotional beings by nature - that's not a bad thing - it allows us to love and nurture your children, even when they give us no sleep and wreck our bodies.<br />
<br />
Please men - treat us with more respect. We are not a mysterious alien race; we are just like you, with different bits. Talk to us; care for us and nurture our sensitive nature - it might just care for you when you are old and infirm. We may not be perfect either, but we want our daughters to grow up in a world where women are celebrated, not victimised and sexualised half the time, and ignored the other half. Yes we are different and as a general rule there are things men are better at and things women are better at, but no one should claim that one is better than the other. Our differences mean we can work perfectly as a team - as the natural order of things decrees. Men, it does not immasculate you to be kind to women. It may be my age, but I for one am not attracted to the kind of man who thinks it was ever OK to 'treat them mean'. I don't like a bad boy, a cheater or a liar. Give me a really modern man who isn't threatened by a strong woman, who has manners, who admits when he's wrong, and who is kind, fights injustice and stands up for women's rights and equality.<br />
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If any such men exist, and are single - please do get in touch ;)Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-65139044303286347502015-03-06T10:07:00.000+00:002015-03-06T10:07:43.902+00:00Yes I know it's been over 9 years years but ...I haven't written for quite some time here as I wasn't really sure what direction to take. I've brought things up to date with my story and there are only so many times you will want to hear about something that happened quite a long time ago. So - I am thinking perhaps that observations on life from my widowed point of view might work, and keeping in touch with the idea that life continues after loss, but that the loss never really leaves us completely.<br />
<br />
In the last 12 months I have been settling down again into singledom (and by that I mean I've been single for the last year). My last relationship only lasted 10 months, but was one I had thought would last a lot longer. I had started to believe I'd found something real. So, it's taken me a while to adjust. I'm not saying I have stopped living, on the contrary, I've been pretty busy, but things have somewhat been overshadowed by the loss of that relationship. And the trouble with having suffered a major loss, such as being widowed, is that each and every subsequent loss takes you back to those emotions you thought you had long since left in the past. And this is perhaps something others don't understand.<br />
<br />
I'd like to think I have reached a point now where, while I would be more than happy to meet someone, it doesn't consume me as a quest. I don't do dating sites any more and I'm not the sort to be 'out on the pull'. I have lots to fit into my time what with the swim training, writing course, work, daughter, house to clean, mouths to feed etc etc etc. I'm not moping around or anything (well most of the time). But when people think that you are now fine and unaffected by the grief of the past, they are wrong. It can rear up it's head at any time - often with no or little warning. You could be cooking dinner or hoovering, just going about your day when you suddenly feel overwhelmed by the realisation that your partner is gone forever. Some things are more emotive than others - music, films or dramas. But other times you might be merely chopping carrots or washing the dishes.<br />
<br />
I think the reason behind the little things mattering so much is that those are the real building blocks of our lives. We are often told - it's the little things that count, so when you don't have your partner to share them with any more it really matters. Life's simple pleasures are best shared is perhaps another cliche, but true and you especially realise this when you don't have someone special to share them with.<br />
<br />
I read a lot of comments from my friends in WAY (<a href="http://www.widowedandyoung.org.uk/">www.widowedandyoung.org.uk</a>) about insensitivity's from others towards them. Comments made in passing, not thought through, which touch a nerve or seem uncaring.
People who think the widowed person is OK now, have 'got over it' or
just perhaps people are too plain caught up in their own issues to see
anothers pain. Perhaps having been widowed makes us more sensitive
to these things - but really I don't think any of us really see what
goes on beneath a persons facade. We learn young to build walls to protect our vulnerability. Children can say the most hurtful things after all, and so they learn to build up thick skins so as to not let things affect them so much - or at least so the hurt doesn't show. My daughter is going through this process and constantly talks about all the little dramas that go on among friends. Grief can bring those walls crashing down and it can take a lot of time to build them up again - and I think that many widowed people perhaps can't build a solid wall, but only one with gaps that can let in some of the hurt. Not the most original metaphor, but hopefully it explains how it can feel.<br />
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The other thing is that the emotions can be so variable. Day to day, even hour to hour a mood can change beyond all recognition. Sometimes they burst out, overflowing in a tirade of words or a gush of tears. We all need this outlet - widowed or not - I think. Coping with modern life - which has become so much more complicated than it needs to be - seems to put quite a strain on a persons emotions. And as we are all different, we all cope in different ways.<br />
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We all have our cross to bear (oh look, more cliche!) and perhaps we would all benefit from just slowing down a little, having a thought for someone else's feelings and what they are having to deal with. I know I benefit from this. We are very good at seeing how another persons life is better or easier than ours, but maybe we don't look so much at how they struggle too. Often you don't need to look far beneath the facade to see a turbulence underneath. WAY use the example of a swan. A serene bird, so regal, who glides across the water seemingly effortlessly. But take a look under the water and you will see two powerful legs, paddling away furiously to keep up the facade of perfection above the water. <br />
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I think what I'm trying to say is, life can't be really tough, but there are usually glimmers of hope at least, and when we compare ourselves to others it can be in a positive or negative way. So rather than say "Look at how much they have, I wish I had all that", perhaps we need to look deeper and say "Look how hard their life is, I'm glad for what I have." <br />
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As an example, I went to see <i>The Theory of Everything</i> last night - and came away feeling thankful for my health. It was very grounding to watch someone struggle so much against the odds and despite everything, come out winning. There is no time limit on grief, but there's so much good we can do in spite of the burdens we bear. Finding a purpose could be the salvation of many, perhaps.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-40658280019310571462014-10-06T19:16:00.000+01:002014-10-06T19:16:02.876+01:00Finding a New MeThere are certainly many aspects of me that Robin would still recognise today; but equally there are many he wouldn't. When you lose someone it can take a while to untangle yourself from the couple you were. I was with Robin for well over 14 years, and from the age of 18 when so much of who you are is yet to form. You can't be with someone that long and not become a part of them, and they a part of you. You change and alter to suit the new entity of the relationship. Not in a bad way, just as is necessary for a harmonious life. <br />
<br />
When we were first together we bickered like siblings - each trying to find their role in the relationship, none wanting to give in. Eventually that turns into a firm knowledge of the other and a new closeness perhaps - if you are willing to adjust and compromise. Robin and I finished our transition from adolescence into adulthood together. This made for a close bond which was special and can never be replaced (though I'm not saying another bond couldn't be equally special in it's own way).<br />
<br />
Since he died I've had to untangle myself from the person I was in that relationship - and unwillingly too. I fought the untangling as much as I fought for my voice in the pairing to begin with. It's been a long slow progress as tomorrow is the 9th anniversary of Robin's accident. I still sometimes panic and run to the shelter of that past version of me, but it's no shelter any more. Time has taken it's toll and back there I am only a half person.<br />
<br />
As time passes and the emptiness left by grief begins to fill with new experiences you begin to reshape yourself. It's tentative at first - I went back to feeling like a teenager again on many occasions; having to remind myself that I was an adult and had a right to a voice - but it will eventually gain momentum, because as physics dictates - matter will rush to fill a void.<br />
<br />
So the new me is finding her way in the world, overcoming the most awful setbacks and filling that void with new things. New people, new hobbies and new belongings. One of the best new hobbies I have found has been open water swimming (and it came hand in hand with a bunch of great new people too). I moved to Bournemouth to be by the sea and I still love it every time I go down to the beach. A couple of years ago I found a group of swimmers I could join for sea swimming - always better to swim with friends and be safe. At first I would just have a short dip occasionally and didn't take it too seriously. However, one of my new friends has had a dream to swim the English Channel for some long time. Now she is a very determined lady and her enthusiasm and love of the sport has caught me in it's currents. I agreed this year to be on her relay team and train to swim across the channel in 2016. This excites me and scares me in equal measure - but this new me who is emerging from the chaos seems to quite like a challenge and testing herself. On Saturday past this new, more determined version of me swam a mile, twice, in Bude Sea Pool to help save the pool, but also as part of a personal journey to save herself. So easily the sea of grief can overwhelm those affected, but I have instead chosen to fight the actual, tangible sea. I feel this gives me a much more fair chance of winning. This task is more achievable, and each time I reach a new goal I believe a little more in my new self and where she is taking me (sometimes dragging me, kicking and screaming). The old me would have been too timid to do this. This latest version of me is emerging as a stronger and more resilient being. <br />
<br />
Perhaps it's a journey we all take. Each relationship teaches us new things about ourselves. But a long term relationship that was ripped apart by tragedy leaving chaos in it's wake is bound to take a longer time to unravel eventually allowing that person to gather up the bits of them that were laid bare and put them back together in some kind of acceptable order. This mostly regathered version of me is where I am at - and she's working on a blank canvas - coming to terms with the idea that she can be anything she puts her mind (and body) to - including being moulded into a channel swimmer!<br />
<br />
I'd like to believe that Robin would be as proud of this new me as I am of myself. My friends have made me more brave, but ultimately it's me alone who will have to train and drive myself towards my goals and build up this new and improved version of me, and that is OK. Who I am as just me is OK. I don't need another person to make that so, just my own approval and a little determination and plenty of self belief.Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-54404990726084724302014-09-25T14:10:00.000+01:002014-09-25T14:10:10.083+01:00A Purpose - or Lack Thereof!I'm happy to admit to quite often feeling lost. I don't think I'm alone in this, nor do I think only widowed people feel this way. Perhaps it is a result of our modern society with all it's myriad choices. Or perhaps being a single parent has something to do with it.<br />
<br />
The thing is, it's self perpetuating. You may start off in life quite sure of your choices, or you may not. But every time you change your mind or find a new interest or fail at something and lose a little confidence - it adds to the inner confusion about just what exactly it is you should be doing with your life. Even if you don't fail, things can get dull and repetitive.<br />
<br />
Since I was about 6 I wanted to be a writer. But I didn't think I could do that as a career because it seemed to difficult to make a living out of. So I started turning to other interests, and as I am a person with many interests the pile of things I enjoyed grew and I found I could build enthusiasm, at least temporarily, for most things. I went through years of wanting to be a vet because of watching <i>All Creatures Great and Small</i>. I came to choose options and listened to a careers officer who though economics would be good for me! It wasn't. I was choosing a degree course and followed the advice - do something you really love; and so I chose a degree in Geology and Cartography. After all I was doing Geology A level and had loved maps for years.<br />
<br />
That degree did get me quite far. I did OK, got a couple of related jobs and set up my own Cartographic freelance business. I still do this and I still have some enthusiasm for it too. However, my real passion, I think, is still in books and writing. I have started writing a couple of novels, but something always stops me. Is it simply life getting in the way, or is it something bigger?<br />
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Well of course there is a lot of fear of failure. In writing this blog I bare my soul to the world and that is pretty scary. I have only had very positive feedback - thank you - but this is a mini project, not a business or money maker. What happens when I try to sell my work?<br />
<br />
This is one side of my issue; the lack of purpose. The other side is: who am I doing this for? I have to make a living to bring up my daughter and have a few treats. I can't rely on others for help all the time and I want to be financially independent. But I can't help but feel: what is it all for? Make money just to spend it? Have nice things? Go on holidays? Feel fulfilled? Accomplished?<br />
<br />
The point is, without a partner there to spur me on, encourage me and generally make things worth working for, it all feels a little empty. I know it should be enough to do it for myself and for my daughter, but I can't help but still feel there is still this other great hole in our lives. Another reason to work hard, to aspire for a better life and to make it all worthwhile.<br />
<br />
Yes I want to be successful. I want to sell novels or just write copy and make a living. But how do I find my mojo? How do I keep up my passion through the long days and difficult times? Without someone there to share it all a firm purpose is a tricky thing to grasp and then keep hold of. For now I do it all for Sophie and me - to try and obtain a little piece of independence and security. I can only hope that at some point in the future I find my missing mojo and the strength to keep on getting up and facing reality - along with the energy that appears to have been sapped by the lack-of-purpose monster.<br />
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It's not that things are all bad, it's just they aren't how I would wish. But Life so seldom is and I need to just get on with it. So I'm off in search of my mojo - because it's not going to come and find me - and I will try my best to enjoy the process.Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-1141924335216600252014-07-22T09:51:00.000+01:002014-07-22T09:51:01.017+01:00Humanity?<div class="MsoNormal">
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--></style> In the news at the moment there is so much distress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the ongoing problems in Israel and
Palestine and the Ukrainian rebels shooting down innocents, I wonder if many of
us have lost touch of what humanity means.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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My dictionary says humanity is “the human race”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me this implies one race, one
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It also says “the quality
of being human”, then “kindness or mercy”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the moment there doesn’t seem to be a lot of humanity
going on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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80 children were killed in the plane in Ukraine, along with
so many other loved ones; fathers, brothers, mothers, sisters, daughters and
sons, uncles and aunts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All those
families that are now grieving because of politics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because a group of angry people decided it was OK to use
such weapons because they were ‘freedom fighters’!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As far as I can tell the Ukraine government were not doing
anything unjust to these people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s all about politics: a change in government that they didn’t
want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what gives them the
right to take away other people’s lives in the name of their cause?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are we not all equal as human beings?</div>
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<br /></div>
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And Israel, who seem to have the west’s politicians on their
side, feel it's acceptable to massacre innocents in Palestine in the name of punishing Hamas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I studied that conflict in school
nearly 30 years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been
going on since the 50’s when we gave land to a people that wasn’t ours to
give.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is it not time for the west
to admit they were wrong and try to find a proper solution?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many more human beings will be
killed in the name of political cause?</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
From the point of view of a widowed person I understand
loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My loss was through an
accident and difficult as that was to accept, it was not really anyone’s
fault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was caused through a bad
decision and a reflex reaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Many of the widows and widowers I have met since, have also lost
partners due to accidents, and many to disease, some to misconduct, some to
suicide, a few due to conflict abroad or murder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when another human being takes away your loved one for
political cause – often when they were nothing to do with the enemy – that is
truly a criminal and unjust act.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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It deeply saddens me to think of all the hundreds of people
grieving because of the selfish behaviour of a few who have managed to place
themselves in power, or in control of terrible weapons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>WE ARE ALL HUMAN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>WE ARE ONE RACE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So why do
we insist on squabbling over land, boundaries, political affiliations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are capable of so much more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we could only put aside our
differences and see what we all have in common.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If all the energy that is put into hatred of our fellows,
could be redirected to solving greater problems, such as climate change or
research to cure disease, just think how much more we could achieve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are too many of us for this planet, and I suppose we
are seeing geographic theory in action.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When a population increases then disease, famine, drought and war will
reduce it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s the theory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if humanity would start acting
human, kind and merciful, and work together I truly believe there would be no
stopping us – we could reach for the stars and perhaps even evolve a little in
the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something that has
barely happened since we emerged in our current form.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the moment though I hold little hope that this will
happen in my lifetime or even that of my daughter or any children she may have
in the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is too much
bitterness and hatred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We haven’t
yet learned how to co-exsist with anyone who is even minutely different from
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even in liberal western
countries hatred abounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hatred
of anyone different from us; anyone who doesn’t conform or happens to be
‘foreign’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We think too
small.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can’t yet see the bigger
picture – the endless possibilities that lie within out grasp – if only we
could put our hatred and fear and bitterness aside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I fear for the future of the humanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But mostly I am sad for all those new
people who have to grieve because of others hatred, greed, fear, politics, and
for their lack of humanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-51329749333345362782014-05-12T20:54:00.000+01:002014-05-12T20:54:00.336+01:00Single ParentingThere is a particular image painted by Government and Media around single parents. They would have you believe that we are all teenagers trying to get a council house and just sponging off society. Well here are a few facts and figures courtesy of Gingerbread (single parent charity):<br /><ul>
<li>Just over a quarter (26 per cent) of households with dependent
children are single parent families, and there are 2 million single
parents in Britain today. This figure has remained consistent since
the mid-1990’s </li>
<li>Less than 2 per cent of single parents are teenagers </li>
<li>The median age of single parents is 38.1</li>
<li>Around half of single parents had their children within marriage
– 49 per cent are separated from marriage, divorced or widowed </li>
<li>60.2 per cent of single parents are in work, up 15.5 percentage points since 1997 <br />
</li>
<li>The employment rate for single parents varies depending on the
age of their youngest child. Once their children are 12 or over, single
parents’ employment rate is similar to, or higher than, the employment
rate for mothers in couples (71 per cent of single parents whose child
is 11-15 are in work) </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>There are 3 million children living in a single parent household (23% per cent of all dependent children) </li>
<li>Around 8 per cent of single parents (186,000) are fathers </li>
<li>The average duration of single parenthood is around 5 years </li>
<li>Only 6.5 per cent of all births are registered alone, and 10 per cent are registered to two parents who live apart </li>
<li>Single fathers are more likely to be widowed than single mothers
(12 per cent of single fathers are widowed, compared with 5 per cent of
single mothers), and their children tend to be older </li>
<li>Just under half of couples divorcing in 2009 had at least one
child aged under 16. Over a fifth (21 per cent) of the children in 2009
were under five and 63 per cent were under eleven </li>
</ul>
<br />
Not quite the story you hear in the tabloids is it?!<br />
<br />
People may have their own reasons for being quick to judge, but we have to accept that the presence of single parent families in society is really just part of life. And families where one parent has died and who therefore have not made a conscious decision to become single parent families still form a sizeable chunk of the total. We know times are tough for everyone on low incomes at the moment, but with changing benefit systems and expensive childcare, it really is tough on single parents.<br />
<br />And it's not just the financial pressures of course. Weighing up working more with being there more isn't easy. When there are problems; ill health, behaviour issues or just exhaustion, there is no back-up from a partner. No-one to take over and give you a rest. You are on duty 24-7 and it often seems as though there is no light at the end of the tunnel.<br />
<br />
Having said this, children in a widowed family at least have some stability. Another fact from the Gingerbread site says: "Parental separation by itself is not considered predictive of poor
outcomes in children. Parental conflict has been identified as a key
mediating variable in producing negative outcomes in children. A
comparison between couple families experiencing high levels of conflict
with single parent families found that children fared less well in
conflicted couple families, demonstrating that family functioning has a
greater impact than family structure in contributing to child outcomes". In other words, an unstable home with two parents not getting on is worse for children than a single parent home on the whole.<br />
<br />
So the children of single parent families are likely to grow up to be rounded characters after all. Even though the growing up may come a little earlier as they are given more to deal with and some of the innocence of childhood may be lost. With grieving children there is a terrible extra issue to deal with - the loss of a parent. <br />
<br />
Sophie has mostly been quite matter of fact while talking about her father. We have always talked about him openly and I encourage her to ask questions - though these don't always pop up at the most convenient times! But she never met her dad and so perhaps doesn't feel the same loss as other bereaved children. To her, living with just me is normal. But that's not to say she doesn't feel the loss. She sees her friends with their dads and at school she often feels like the only child in her situation. The other side of it is she knows how to get around me and that there is no other parent to tell her off and be back-up to mummy. She also enjoys a few extras from the family perhaps - though that could be because she is the only grandchild and maybe not just because her daddy isn't here to spoil her himself.<br />
<br />
I actually believe - though hard on children - it's a worse deal being the single parent. You are doing the work of two and mostly with less money. Bills don't half when there's only one parent. Holidays are difficult and can be more expensive. You are regularly vilified in the press and by Government. Emotionally the strain can leave a single parent exhausted. You are always the one cooking, washing up and doing all the chores. <br />
<br />
I'm not saying I never get help. I have some lovely friends and neighbours who will babysit occasionally and my folks are often down to help out too. But there isn't that other person there who you can turn to and say guess what so-and-so's done now. Or someone to cook while you give the kids a bath. Or someone just to give you a hug and say things will be fine. And weekends become scary as venturing out means being among apparently happy families. <br />
<br />
But it's not all bad. I have a wonderful bright daughter to nourish and enjoy. I am building a special bond with her that I hope will make us much closer and bring about more mutual respect. We may not have much, but we have each other which is worth more than any income or holidays and cars. If Robin could miraculously come back to us we would be whole and as perfect as a family gets, but as he can't I will continue to bring up our daughter the best way I can and we will continue to find our own version of perfect - and even though we may be an inconvenience to the Government (who think I should have found a new partner by now) we will be happy being us and we will do the best we can at living because that's all we can do.<br />
<br />
Big love to all the single parents out there! Keep strong.Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-49896318589514941672014-05-02T16:08:00.000+01:002014-05-02T16:08:32.831+01:00Making DecisionsSometimes it's the small things that are the most difficult.<br />
<br />
I have made some pretty big decisions since Robin died. The decision to move away from family and my job for example. But in many ways those things are easier than the small things - like working out the best way to discipline a toddler. Or what to cook for dinner. Or even what to wear.<br />
<br />
I think I've always struggled a little with these small decisions, but when you were used to having a second opinion on pretty much everything (even if it only made you realise your own idea was best), when that is taken away it leaves you feeling truly lost. A lot of the time it has meant some things just didn't happen because there was no one to make a decision. If I hadn't been pregnant, and hadn't had to take care of myself and Sophie I often think I would have not bothered with a lot of things - like eating or getting up even. But thankfully I did have Sophie and that has helped a huge amount because I have had that reason to live, to eat, to make decisions.<br />
<br />
It's not that I can't make decisions - I must have made thousands of the sort where you are actually conscious of deciding since that fateful day in 2005. What to call my company, which web provider/energy company/phone and broadband package to chose. Along with what school to apply for, which house to buy, where to go on holiday. (And the one I haven't had much success with - who to date!). In all these things I have made my decisions and done my best at that time. But what I would have given to have that valued second opinion from Robin - to be able to speak to him - not just imagine what he might think. That is a huge part of what I miss. A burden shared. Someone else to share the blame (lets face it) when things don't work out quite as planned! <br />
<br />
It's tough having to be the one that's in charge - the grown up - the boss of my own life. I know I have family and friends I can talk things through with - and don't get me wrong - their advice and counsel has been very important over the years. Maybe that has replaced what I had with Robin - mostly. It's easier to research online these days, and there's usually a mum friend who's been there with any child-related problem I find - but that's not quite the whole story. I'm not sure it works quite as well unless the person helping make any decision is very close; intimately knows you and what makes you tick. They need to know all the nuances of your behaviour, signs of stress or excitement or of just needing a hug. That only comes from a partner I think. That has been missing in my life for 8 and a half years now.<br />
<br />
However, these days I am perhaps getting a little better at making those choices. I have taught myself to rely on just me again. Learned to stand alone. But I don't always get things right and that's why I will look forward to the day when I might again have a trusted special someone there to be my sounding wall and that all important second opinion.<br />
<br />
<br />Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-66146212946437556922014-04-24T20:33:00.001+01:002014-04-24T20:33:48.901+01:00Friendship<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When your partner is your best friend, it
can be all too easy to loose touch with others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Especially when everyone begins to pair off and settle
down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So when you lose your best
friend you can find yourself very alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I was as guilty as the next person of not
keeping up with friends – letting things go a bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What with working full time and living with your partner,
doing things with family, friends often fall by the wayside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When times are good and everything is
right in your world you feel like you don’t need anyone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having a loving partner who listens to
your problems and shares in your happiness seems to be all you need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s a false economy because if you don’t look after the
people who care about you in good times, you can hardly expect them to be there
through the bad.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We all know that people come and go in our
lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s fine – it has a
natural rhythm to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In ages past
you would probably know the same small group of people all your life, but these days
we tend to spread out a lot more, whether for the best jobs or lifestyle, we
all scatter and so a pattern of coming together and moving apart develops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At every stage of life there are whole new groups
of people to meet and friends to make.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But you can’t keep up with everyone on a personal level – in spite of
facebook and twitter, email and facetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So the people closest to you changes and evolves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you have a partner you maybe share
some friends, but also have your own and so widen your group further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all part of life and what keeps it
interesting.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When hit with the loss of your closest
friend – your partner, husband or wife – is when you will most need those other
friendships you have developed, but it’s also a time when many of those friends
seem to drift away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have
changed. Like it or not, you are no longer the person you were – not
entirely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grief changes a person –
and it’s not just the partner and family that is affected – it’s the friends
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some friends may simply find
it too difficult to keep in touch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again – it’s
just how things are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when
facing the darkness of losing a partner you do need friends around you – to
help pull you through.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I have been very lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a few good friends who helped me
through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Came to visit and kept in
touch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not all the time, but they
did think of me and that meant so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But no one really lived close to me, so I did still feel very alone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">About three months after losing Robin I
started post natal classes at my local health centre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was such a lifeline, because suddenly there were these
lovely ladies who lived near me and who were all dealing with having a new baby
– although at that stage they all had partners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would go out after the classes, and when they stopped we
would still make a point of meeting up for walks, lunches and even the odd
night out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leaving them was
perhaps the hardest part of leaving Raynes Park.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When I arrived in Bournemouth I had a few
old friends visit me, but because life (and distance) gets in the way, that
dwindled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found it quite hard to
make new friends at first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking
Sophie to play groups helped, but those mums had already formed groups and I
felt like an intruder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However,
over time I got closer to some of the mums and started to feel more
settled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I then was introduced to
a creative group and that opened a whole new world to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was another lifeline as it was
time for just me, away from Sophie – out in the real world!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I’ve been in Bournemouth for 7 years and 8
months now and Sophie has been at school 3.5 years too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s been going to clubs and lessons –
and all the while I’ve been meeting new people and making friends – some closer
than others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The street I live in
has many lovely families and we have become friends – our children play
together and go to school together and we see each other most days at least briefly on the school run.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">More recently, since starting open water
swimming, I have met yet another group of lovely people and this time we share
something else in common – we are all at different stages of life and many have
children whilst others are single, some are older and some younger, but all are
friendly as we share a passion for the sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now some of my closest friends come from this group of
special nutters.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Friendship has been so important to me, and
such a light in times of darkness – whether related to my loss or just to other
problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friends have been
counsellors, comedians, cinema buddies, creative sounding boards, advisors,
babysitters and so much more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
I have to say, for each and every one of them I am truly very grateful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So my advice is to cherish those
friendships, remember to get together and laugh (possibly with a glass of wine)
because those friends will be with you when men leave, or jobs fail, or
children are ill or just to share in some celebration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t judge those that fall by the
wayside, just relish in how rich those people in it make your life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I should also mention another very special
group of friends I have met through WAY – the organization for people widowed
young.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are a surprising
amount of us across the country and we all stay in touch online and at
gatherings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a huge support
network where you know there’s a good chance someone else is going through
exactly what you are – whatever stage that is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you know someone who has been widowed young – please put
them in touch this group because at some stage or other of their grief it will
be an immense help. (<a href="http://www.widowedandyoung.org.uk/">http://www.widowedandyoung.org.uk/</a>)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Now go hug a friend ;)</span></div>
Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-52426355972301302502014-04-02T21:48:00.000+01:002014-04-02T21:48:21.548+01:00Moving On<span lang="EN-US"></span><span lang="EN-US">There’s plenty of speculation about how
long a widowed person should wait before moving on and finding a new love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is mainly because there is no
right or wrong answer except – when you feel ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trouble is it’s not easy to work out when that is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You might be incredibly, painfully
lonely, so your brain plays tricks and tells you it’s time to move on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You never really know for sure until
something goes wrong – which it invariably does if it wasn’t right in the first
place.</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It was just after the second anniversary of
losing Robin that I met someone who liked me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I enjoyed his company and found him intriguing and I was so
very lonely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t sure from
the start if I’m honest with myself, but I thought it was worth giving him a
chance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was lucky in many
ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t a bad person and
we were together for around 16 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He didn’t leave straight away when he broke it off<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(he’d moved in) because he had to find
a new home and so it was about another 4 months of living together – mostly
nothing changed, but his departure loomed and became a dread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he did leave it was very sudden
and with no goodbye. It was a wrench.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Instead of doing the adult thing and
dealing with my emotions I developed a kind of self-destructive ‘fuck it’
button, which meant I said yes to a few things I really shouldn’t have which
only led to more heartache. The loneliness got bad again and a friend ended up
setting me up with a chap she knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All the warning signs were there, though not all from the beginning – he was very
charming at first, but I was in some kind of downwards cycle and though
friends warned me I felt this chap cared for me, but perhaps more enticingly I
felt he needed me and I could help him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was an alcoholic with no real job and expensive taste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he came across as vulnerable and
made me want to nurture him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
helped with career plans and a new website, but a pattern developed and there
was always a new venture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
selling books at fairs, but not making the money back because he really didn’t
understand the business side of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He relapsed in the summer, and whilst drunk admitted to being unfaithful
with a mutual friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I left him
for a while and went on holiday with my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he talked me back and made all sorts of promises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The drinking got worse and there was
really very little in it for me at all – but I stubbornly thought I could still
help him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Turned out I couldn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also turned out he’d been cheating with
an ex and another girl who had apparently just wanted him so she could have a
child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I finally had enough
and left him for good he still owed me around £1000.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in many ways it was worth losing that money (which I
couldn’t really afford) to be rid of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My fingers had been burnt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had learnt my lesson and would not make those mistakes again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It didn’t make it any easier to find a good
man!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After years of avoiding them I finally gave in and
joined some internet dating sites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I found a couple of nice men that just weren’t for me, but found plenty
of idiots too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most just ignored
me and I started to wonder if they were real people or added by the site to
make it look like there were more members than there really were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean – what is wrong with all these
guys?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I got the impression having a child already was an issue</span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was also by now thinking I didn’t want to have any more
children which ruled out plenty others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I just wasn’t finding anyone nearly suitable. One of the major problems with those sites is that you tick all these boxes which makes it so easy to dismiss people that might actually be a fantastic match in real life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I decided to give up; to concentrate on
Sophie and me and just enjoy life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We could be happy together, we had good friends and I knew that finding a
man didn’t necessarily mean I would have my happily ever after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all other things were fine – work was up and down, but
I was branching out and finding new ways to make a little living – Sophie was
doing really well at school and we had our little routine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It was then that I discovered some WAY
members had set up a facebook group for people ready to move on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A friend signed me up and it was
fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was mostly ladies, but we
had fun with some banter and sharing experiences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As there weren’t many guys signed up the organizers decided
to let us introduce non-widowed men to the group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is how I met my most recent boyfriend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He worked abroad so we really got to
know each other by messaging before we met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I totally fell for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was fun and liked similar things to me; he treated me
when we were out and was a real gentleman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t long before he told me he loved me and was 100%
sure about us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We introduced our
children – he has a boy and a girl who are older than Sophie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all seemed so good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took the kids to a festival and he
took Sophie and I on holiday for a week last summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We worked around the times he was away and though I missed
him, it was OK, because we got on so well when we were together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We started planning an amazing trip to
New Zealand – a country he loves and wants to one day make his home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so excited as I always wanted to
go there – even before Peter Jackson increased their tourism nicely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were going in January.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents would come to stay at my
house with Sophie and the cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Over Christmas he was at work, but I had a good time and we were always
messaging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My back problems, which
had been in check, resurfaced in the holidays with all the visiting and lack of
routine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no time to sort
it out, but I did get anti-inflamatories before we left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was fine if I could keep moving but
the flights out were very painful – I was in tears and couldn’t sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time we got to Auckland I was
shattered and had been up about 40 hours straight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But once I was moving around again it wasn’t too bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trouble was it was a road trip for
the most part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting in the car
was painful after about 30 mins, and I got virtually no sympathy so just bit my
tongue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About half way though NZ I
got some better drugs and my back eased off a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was having an amazing time and loving all the places we
went, but could tell something was wrong, just couldn’t get him to share.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had four nights in Queenstown at the
end of the road trip – and on the surface things were fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We met his friends there and had more
of a rest, but still things seemed a bit strained and I couldn’t get anything
out of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He seemed colder and
more distant but just said he was a quite person.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We came home via Hong Kong – which was also
an amazing place to visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
stayed with him the night we arrived back in the UK before heading home to see
Sophie – I’d missed her so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He went back to work, but our conversations had lost their sparkle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He still refused to tell me what was
wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then just before coming
home again admitted he was annoyed with me for not sorting my back out before
we went away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apart from me being
in pain and him doing all the driving, it really hadn’t impacted that much on
our holiday. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I accepted that
and thought things would be better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were on the surface and when we saw each other again the problems seemed
to melt away a little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Messages
were still cool though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the
second weekend when I’d been up to see him with Sophie things seemed a bit sour
again and he cancelled his next trip down to us for fairly weak reasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That weekend things were strained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally I
suggested putting whatever it was behind us and starting over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved him and was sure we could sort
things out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s when it finally
came out that he had decided in NZ he couldn’t risk moving to be with me and
wanted to concentrate on his kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So all that time when I knew something was wrong, it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I hadn’t realized was how easily
he would just discard me after making that decision without discussion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We only live a couple of hours drive
apart, but it turned out to be too far for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After planning to move to Bournemouth and set up a home with
me, he now didn’t want to move until going to NZ and that wouldn’t be for at
least 5 years.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It was the cruelest thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To show me this wonderful life that we
could have over there – and I did love NZ – only to decide with no discussion
that it wouldn’t be with me after all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He wasn’t willing to risk investing in this relationship and losing
everything again as he had through his divorce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s how little faith he had in me after I had agreed to
move around the world for him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I’m still coming to terms with this – it’s
only just happened after all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
still struggling to work out what happened really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess this time it was him that wasn’t ready to move on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So – dating as a widow has all the same
pitfalls as normal dating, but perhaps it just hurts a little more because you
know that you should never have been in this circumstance in the first
place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Robin hadn’t died he
would be with us and Sophie would have a Dad, I would know I was loved and
wouldn’t be lonely, and Sophie may not have ended up being an only child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s so hard to not go over all the
‘what ifs’.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So listen up men – you need to be good to
us ladies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We deserve to be adored
and respected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We deserve to be
loved back as much as we love you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Don’t take a heart and walk all over it – if things don’t work out
that’s OK, but be nice about it and speak to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We deserve to know what you are thinking if you are thinking
things are wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t give us
hope of a better future to just throw it back in our faces. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">All I can do now is lick my wounds, pick myself
up and start living life again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
don’t need to rely on anyone else for my happiness but me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day I would like to find my true Mr
Right, but please next time let it really be the right one and not some
pretender who just isn’t ready for something real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if having been widowed has taught me anything, it’s that
I am capable of looking after myself and I am stronger than I think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moving on has all kinds of pitfalls,
but I still believe in love.</span></div>
Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-12520528433145116772014-02-23T10:39:00.001+00:002014-02-23T10:39:42.911+00:00Earning a Living<span style="color: #45818e;"></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A mere three weeks after arriving in
Bournemouth I had to return to my job at UCL.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had said under the circumstances I could maybe get away
with not going back, but I thought it made sense to work my three months notice
and earn a little bit of money to get me going with my new life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I planned to set up freelance from my
new home eventually, but I felt a certain obligation to see out my time at UCL.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It was tough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Driving up to Mum and Dad’s every Sunday so they could watch
Sophie Monday and Tuesday while I went into work, then we would drive home
Wednesday (with Mum sometimes in the early days), I would work from home
Thursday and that was my reduced week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not ideal, but this was my penalty for moving away from London.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did this for three months then was
ill for another month after!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">During this time, Sophie learnt to walk,
turned one and also developed sleeping problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still don’t know if the problems were due to the living in
two places thing and all the traveling, or because I was away from her more
now, but she would wake up most nights and scream for two to three hours until
she wore herself out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suppose
this is normal for mums returning to work, but the lack of sleep and emotional
strain was boardering on hellish. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even missed the bottom step one night as I stomped
downstairs after an hour or two of trying to stop Sophie crying and turning to
calpol to help settle her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
in my arms as I crumpled to the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mum and Dad were there and came rushing out to see if we were OK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was just emotionally crushed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The one chap I had met now in Southbourne –
a friend of friends – just happened to have a good friend whose wife was a
child minder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So that was
Thursday’s cover sorted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact
Sophie went to Tina’s right up until she started school, even alongside nursery
when that started at two years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m not sure if in retrospect I should have spent more time just being a
mum, but I felt like I should at least attempt to make a living and provide for
us both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t just want to
live off the state, though I have to say that I have had to rely on Tax Credits
after my savings dwindled down to not a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, unmarried ‘widows’ don’t get any other benefit –
but I wont get started on that right now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It was quite sad to leave UCL after nearly
ten years, but a relief to finally really begin my new life in
Bournemouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized by now
that it was really where I wanted to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Every week driving up to London felt traumatic and stressful, but
returning to Bournemouth felt like the sun coming out after a storm – it felt
like coming home.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">After getting bugs and other technical
things sorted I finally began working for myself properly in the January of
2007, though I had registered the company in December 2006.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My first job was a poster for Dad’s
church – and I did get some work through old contacts for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I hadn’t realized was how
difficult I would find it promoting myself, and my services.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just didn’t have the confidence to be
pushy and salesman-like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had had
this vision of people falling over themselves to give me maps to draw for them
– but the reality was that the work was few and far between.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Working from home wasn’t quite as easy as I
had thought it would be either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
my perfect imagined version of events I would be highly productive and ready
for collecting Sophie at the end of the day with all tasks complete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reality was things took a lot
longer than I thought – not the work so much, but everything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doing household chores around the work
meant focus on the work was diminished and ideas I had hoped to put into
production just never happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
don’t think I was really that cut out for working from home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe it’s just that it was all too
soon and my head was too full of everything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not that I wanted more time alone to reflect and be
sad, but I probably needed it anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There was something else too – I had begun to question myself, and my
abilities as a sole trading entity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s different when you work for someone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They provide work, you do the work and you get paid at
the end of the month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was so
different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was having to find
the work, do the work (which was a bit like baring my soul to the world as it
was straight from me, no back up and no one to bounce ideas off), then invoice
the person asking for money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
don’t think my work was bad, but I just kept thinking that everyone else was
better – why would people pick me to do their map?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Those thoughts still appear sometimes – but
I’m changing what I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve added
new skills and I don’t just draw maps anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I paint them now too!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also teach crochet and knitting which provides light
relief from the business world and pocket money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am still searching for the more specific thing I should be
doing – and for a regular source of decent income.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s still very much hand to mouth in that I don’t earn
enough to save much up, but I am in a much better place mentally now and feel
ready to explore different ways of making myself a living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t exactly found my niche, but
feel I’m moving closer to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do
feel a slight envy and awe for people who know exactly what they want to do and
just get on and do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s
quite a skill to have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tend to
over-think things and I have so many interests that choosing one path to follow
is not easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I will get there
– one day soon I hope.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-1446475460987700462013-11-07T14:05:00.001+00:002013-11-07T14:05:45.072+00:00The Move<div class="MsoNormal">
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--></style><span lang="EN-US"></span><span lang="EN-US">I can’t remember exactly when I decided to
move away from London, but I’d wanted to for years and Robin had been looking
for work elsewhere for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
were also looking at houses in greater London for our expanding family, but it
wasn’t easy to find something on budget.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometime between losing Robin and the spring I decided to move while I
was on maternity leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
perhaps a foolhardy thing to attempt to move away from my family to a new place
where I had no friends or support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I was so determined to get away from London, give Sophie and I a new
start and be by the sea – a long-term dream.</span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">People often ask why Bournemouth – and it
was mostly chance I have to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
did know people in Brighton, but it seemed quite pricey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew it was the south coast I was
after being and so worked my way along the coast until I hit Bournemouth – it
seemed like a good compromise between seaside, countryside but a large enough
town to have stuff going on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I
started the usual trawling of websites and trying to work out the exact nature
of places from photos and maps online.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I found a few hopeful places, sensible homes to bring up a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I needed to go there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the March we were invited to a
friend and colleague’s wedding in Devon the same weekend as Mum and Dad were
invited to a wedding in Eastbourne.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So Dad booked a holiday flat in Westbourne, Bournemouth for a week so we
could meet up after and have a look around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got details of some of the estate agents ready, but knew
nothing about the place really – only a bit of research from the internet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The drive to Devon and the wedding went
well enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt a bit out of
it as I’d not been with any large groups since having Sophie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was nice to see people though, some
familiar faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though it did seem
like a thousand years since that life when I was working and Robin was
alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was beginning to feel
more confidence in myself and how capable I was – staying away with my baby
(who was 5 months now) having driven myself there – no one else to rely on or
pass the buck to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I only got my
little car in the February, which was in part funded by very generous donations
from Robin’s old school friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
had never driven this far before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On the whole I enjoyed it – and it was even quite a pleasant drive back
along the coast to Dorchester, where I met Mum and Dad, and then on to
Bournemouth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I can’t remember all of the things we did
the rest of that week, but we looked in a few estate agents around Parkstone
before I decided to try the other side of Bournemouth where you can get closer
to the sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Southbourne has quite
a few estate agents in the high street and I went in all of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked the high street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had plenty going on, but wasn’t too
busy and there were plenty ladies with buggies around – it seemed like a nice
family area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I managed to find two
houses I wanted to actually see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The first was quite far from the high street, and while it was a lovely
house with great built in cupboards and a roll top bath, it had a mechanics
garage out the back, no real view and seemed quite far away from the
shops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The second was on a little
one-way road just off Southbourne Road, near the station at Pokesdown and with
shops around the corner and the high street a short walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was all plainly but recently
decorated and had views from the back which were open because of the railway
line, meaning the next row of houses were further away than they would normally be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That and with it being on the brow of a
hill meant it seemed high up and light.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I went back to London full of Bournemouth
thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mulled everything over
and thought the second house was much more suitable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want to wait and search further because of the time
constraints.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We organized a second
viewing and Mum and Dad came with me again for a daytrip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did all the things you are supposed
to do – asked different questions and looked with a more critical eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also walked down to the sea with
Sophie to see how long it took while my folks drove around a bit seeing what
there was to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We met up at the
cliff top at a café there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being
by the sea drove it home for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s where I had wanted to be for so long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The air was cleaner and the views great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a lovely place to bring up a
child and make our fresh start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though
we were not made welcome in the café, were refused hot water (to make Sophie’s
food) and heard barbed comments about too many buggies being a health and
safety risk, on the whole I was feeling very much like this was a place I could
live.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I put in my offer and it was accepted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The survey was fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It mentioned the windows needed
painting soon and the sellers were nice enough to give me another £1000 off the
price to cover that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So then
the clock was ticking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really
had to move to Bournemouth before I was due back at work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My neighbour who was renting was buying
my flat, so that was easy and no extra fees to pay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to use my current mortgage suppliers as I was on
maternity leave no one else would give me a new mortgage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that was fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were very helpful and I organized
solicitors with them too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
all pretty smooth, though I have no idea why things take the time they do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My completion date was in August – 3
weeks before I was due back at work.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">By far the most difficult bit about moving
was packing up my flat while coping with a baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made a good start with the books, but found other things
so awkward as the boxes began to get in the way – there was no where to put
anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby equipment
takes up so much room, and by this stage I did really need the playpen, high
chair, playmat etc etc.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I would never have managed it all without
my folks, and on the big day my good friends Miles, Wayne and Nick who all came
to my rescue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We paid for a van
that Wayne was happy to drive and load – he was a total wizard at fitting
things in there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad hired a small
van too and I had my car. It was very stressful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt so bad that my friends were having to pack up the
last things for me as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It got
to a time where I had to leave to get to the estate agents in time to get the
keys!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nick came with Sophie and I
in my car – it was good to have the company, and someone to answer my phone
when the estate agents called wondering if I was going to get there soon as
they wanted to go home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We made
it, just in time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It felt very strange to walk into my new
home, all empty and blank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had
a good look around planning where to put things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some furniture I wasn’t expecting had been left in the front
bedroom, so decided Sophie would be better in the little room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all felt very surreal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A while later the van arrived and then
Mum and Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Miles, Wayne and Nick
kindly set up my bed and Sophie’s cot before we all got fish and chips for
supper and they left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think Mum
and Dad must have stayed on the camp beds – it’s all a bit foggy now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I know is I had done this massive
thing moving from familiar surroundings to somewhere I barely knew and had no
friends and it was all sinking in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The trains were louder than I had
remembered too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next few days
I was fairly distraught – wondering what on earth had possessed me to do
something like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it was
still a lovely area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
neighbours turned out to be really great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We had more space and a garden with an apple tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And not everything reminded me of
Robin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be OK – wouldn’t
it?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Well eight years on I can
honestly say that I was lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
landed on my feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was a
determined madness in some ways ended up being a really good move for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not saying things have been easy –
and it did take time to make friends and find my way, but I love Bournemouth
now and am so glad I found the courage to go th</span><span lang="EN-US">rough with something slightly reckless
and nutty.</span>
Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-75737904983805938582013-10-17T10:49:00.000+01:002013-10-17T10:51:42.481+01:00Early Days<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
<span style="color: #999999;">Early Days</span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s been a long time since I took the time
to write anything for this blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In fact I think it will become something else really, more of a store of
my thoughts and memories rather than a regular thing to entertain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have worried about how many others are
doing a great job of blogging about living with the loss of a partner – that
old story of how can I do any better than it’s already being done by others
with more experience of writing than me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, I am not doing this primarily to talk to the world or compete
for readers, but rather to keep memories of the journey safe for the future and
particularly my daughter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">With that in mind I do feel the need to
fill in some of the past eight years and I will try to do it sort of
chronologically.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The early days of my life with Sophie are a
bit of a blur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s such a big
thing getting used to having a new person in your life and to an extent I put
aside my grief to deal with the immediate needs of a new baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We built up our own kind of weird
dysfunctional routine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t
perfect and neither of us got much sleep at night, and the only sleep in the
day was when Sophie was in the buggy or the car seat, which meant I couldn’t
catch up myself, as I was needed to drive the car or walk the buggy!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got by somehow – with help from
my folks who often cooked and provided much company to keep me sane.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I remember feeling so rubbish that when the
health visitors came I wasn’t dressed yet – but I’m sure that’s what they
expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was proud of myself one
time though for answering the door whilst feeding Sophie – not that easy to
maneuver about to do that when you are a new mum.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">As I got into the swing of it I began to go
to post natal classes at the local health clinic in Raynes Park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mums that I met there were so
lovely, and the sessions practical that I was swept up in the whole baby thing
and happily so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course grief
and loss was always there, intangible yet so very real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I mostly just saw the mums with the
babies it was OK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t too
much of a sore thumb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the
ladies had husbands who worked away or long hours too, so as we became friends
and did more socially it was safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A safe loving group who were so happy to be mums and share that
experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">During that time the days were OK – they
had a pattern to them and I could cope fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The difficult and dark times were night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was alone with a baby who didn’t want
to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once or twice it was 3
or 4am before we even got to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were times when I could understand how people can be tipped over
the edge of sanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d never seen
so many lonely cold dark hours of the night before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess it was love that got me through – that and shear willpower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Love for Sophie and the will to get
through each night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">--- </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The postnatal group would go for a tea or
coffee after the sessions at the health centre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A small café where we had to sit outside as there were so
many of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My first public
breast-feeding happened outside this café, which felt like quite a milestone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After the classes stopped we still would meet up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Raynes Park people would walk up to
the common together, meeting others up there and again find nice spots for a
cuppa and a place to feed the babes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Time went by and our little ones began to take solids – so all the
conversation turned to what we gave them, who made their own, what age you
started solids etc etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
like having my own hotline to the experts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My own little support group – though I don’t think I
realized at the time, but that’s kind of what it was.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Leaving them behind was the hardest part
about moving away from Raynes Park and everything I knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I made the decision to move to
Bournemouth that was really my only regret.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although so many of them have moved away since then, that I
was glad I wasn’t left there with all of that lovely group leaving me!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So the end of the first chapter of Sophie’s
life was perhaps that move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
lives were about to change again, but this first little chapter had been a bit
of a cocoon in terms of being among familiar people and new friends with
babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been an easy
transition – being on maternity leave and just having to think about me and
baby – mostly baby – didn’t take too much brainpower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I longed for a move – had been longing for it for years
in fact and now I saw my chance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So while on maternity leave I found a house, sold the flat, sorted
timings, found friends to help me and moved to Bournemouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing like a back-to-work deadline to
spur things on!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that’s a whole
other story.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 158.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-51589359484296923902013-03-19T22:35:00.001+00:002013-03-19T22:35:52.883+00:00Birthday's and Anniversary'sTomorrow Robin would have been 41. But he will never grow old, get bald, wrinkly or face failing health. Forever frozen in time at 33, that's how I will always remember him. I do have lots of wonderful memories which I do share with my daughter as and when so she can build up a picture of her Dad. But it takes a fair old effort to not feel sad and dwell on what we've lost every time some memorable date arrives.<br />
<br />
We have developed a bit of a tradition where we put on some of Daddies music and have a dance around the living room. We will also light a candle and have a quiet chat about it all. Last year, for Robin's 40th we met up with his mum and sister, and his best friend Matt and his family, and we launched a rocket I'd bought him many years ago that had never been used. It was a really warm day and we had a lovely pub lunch in the sunshine before heading to a quite spot. Thank goodness Matt was there as the rocket launch was definitely a boy thing - but the kids loved it too - and it went so high we could imagine that Daddy might well have seen it. This year it's still cold and wintry - no sitting outside pubs in the sunshine this year, but we will remember him in our own way.<br />
<br />
When you loose someone - you don't just have Birthday's and Christmas to remember - there's that horrible day every year when you relive the loss. However much you try to ignore it, you can't. That date will always be there. There was a year I was so busy with toddler Sophie that I had missed the fact that it was that terrible anniversary. Until a friend texted to send her wishes. We were out at the shops and it felt like the floor fell away. I haven't forgotten since. In a way by paying attention to the dates you are better prepared for what's coming. Like the old adage - forewarned is forearmed! It helps to prepare - like taking a deep breath to prepare for any daunting task.<br />
<br />
And it doesn't end there. There is Valentine's day, Mother's day, Father's day, school holiday's, family Birthday's and all sorts of other anniversaries. Then there's every time Sophie achieves something new - swimming badges, awards at school, learning to roller skate, ride a bike and all the rest. All of these dates and anniversaries bring home the fact that Robin is not with us, where he should be. It takes every ounce of control I have to get through a school play in one piece. Robin should be there to see all these things. Why should my lovely girl have to grow up without her Dad being there to watch her plays and help her ride her bike?<br />
<br />
And why should I have to face every noteable date alone?<br />
<br />
As hard as it is though, you have to try to remember the good times; to celebrate the life that was, rather than mourn the one that was lost. So tomorrow we will talk about Daddy and the things he liked. We will dance like idiots around the living room to The Cure. We will light a candle and say a prayer. We will celebrate the good man that Robin was, and who we miss so terribly.<br />
<br />
It has been nearly 7.5 years since Robin died, sometimes it seems like yesterday, sometimes it feels like it was a different lifetime. But we will always remember him and send him our love as we celebrate his Birthday.<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday Robin - 33 again xxxElanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6280921727118355539.post-17035357334611950242013-03-17T22:36:00.003+00:002013-03-17T22:36:40.491+00:00Loss and LifeDeath is a part of life. There's no getting away from it, it happens to us all eventually. We expect to loose our grandparents, and though we dread it and don't like to think about it, we know we will eventually loose our parents. But we really don't expect to loose a partner when we are young. Robin was only 33 when he was taken away from us. I was over 8 months pregnant. We were about to make the final preparations for the baby. I was just about to begin my maternity leave - time to rest and prepare for the birth and the early days of motherhood. Instead I was taken by a young policeman - blue-lighted (I think he thought I might go into labour) up to St Thomas' to say goodbye to my baby's father. <br />
<br />
I was hyperventilating by the time we reached the hospital. A lovely nurse looked after me and my parents arrived a little later by cab. I think there was paperwork, and a fair bit of time passed before I was taken through to see Robin. He still had a tube in his mouth, but otherwise looked peaceful. I was totally in pieces. I couldn't imagine having a baby without him. I sat with him for some long time. Someone came in to ask a few questions. The nurse came and went. Eventually she gently suggested I leave. I kissed Robin one last time - on the forehead due to the tube. He felt cool. And that was that. My life was changed forever. He was gone. Our baby had no father - just me, and I was somehow going to have to bring this new life into my devastated world on my own.<br />
<br />
I didn't sleep what was left of that night. Just lay and listened to the very loud beating of my heart. I was in shock. I know that now, but at the time I just wanted sleep to take me. I didn't want the next day to come because I had no idea what I would do or say to anyone. But the days did come, things happened. Friends came. The funeral was arranged - we had to ask for a close date so that I could actually be there before baby arrived. Robin's mum Angela was a huge help in those days - she was so strong, and Chloe, his sister too - who offered to be my birth partner.<br />
<br />
The funeral went well. It was a very difficult thing to get through, but it was such a comfort to have many of our friends and family there too. Choosing the music had been hard, but it seemed to work, and there were even a few laughs at the choices. Rob's best friend Matt had written a lovely piece too. I had bought a book for people to write in - but wish I'd circulated it further now really as it looks quite empty where people wrote on a few pages only!<br />
<br />
Sophie came into the world 5 days later. Life followed the loss - though not in a totally straightforward way of course. She had a bleed into her scalp due to the foreceps (she was back to back for those who know about these things, and that had made pushing her out very tough). She stopped breathing from the shock, but luckily the staff at Kingston were very good and managed to revive her. That was very hard though - after 17 hours of labour to not have her with me. And because I'd had a spinal block at the end, I couldn't walk, so had to wait for a nurse to bring me to her in the neonatal ward. It was 3am, 24 hours after I went into labour.<br />
<br />
I think I was in shock. I certainly felt in a daze. Chloe had been with me all day while I was in labour, but now it was just me. I felt disconnected from everything - even my daughter. I had lost Robin, and gained Sophie (though she didn't have a name at that point). But even the baby was not in my arms. I was numb. <br />
<br />
The next morning I finally got to hold my baby - though she was still connected to tubes. I had my first attempt at feeding her, and a lady who helps women with babies in neonatal took a photo. I had needed a lot of stitches and was on plenty drugs, which added to the feeling of disconnection I think, but it all seemed so unreal. I was kind of floating. Of course I hadn't had much sleep either in the last few weeks - and only a few hours since going into labour the day before. Soon feeling began to return. Family and a few friends visited. We both began to heal. Sophie was out of neonatal, but I had to take her there for medication regularly for that first week. <br />
<br />
On my last day in hospital I was shown how to bath her - this hadn't been possible with the cannula. Finally leaving the safety of that closed environment and bringing my daughter home was very emotional. The world seemed so big and overwhelming, but back in my flat I felt safe and happy to be gazing into the smile of this new life. I was devastated that she would never meet her daddy, nor he her, but she was so perfect I never wanted to put her down.<br />
<br />
One life had ended, but a new one had begun and that was what I had to focus on now. My life would never be the same again - it was virtually unrecognisable to me. But I had to make it something good - for Sophie - for this new life.Elanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04231772955502293487noreply@blogger.com0