Chosen

Over the last year or so, I have been exploring, with the aid of Cognitive behaviour therapy, psychologist and a wonderful friend, my "core beliefs"; things that for years have coloured the way I perceive the world. Some of them came as no surprise- I discovered that the belief that I am a "quitter" was at the heart of a lot of my difficulties and successfully challenging that belief and its meaning has enabled me to see things more clearly and more importantly, have a closer relationship with the person who first uttered those words to me: "You're nothing but a quitter!"

My Mother

Probably now she doesn't even remember them or their significance. I too have forgotten all those positive messages and hugs she must have given me over the years, with my distorted way of thinking, only the negatives were heard and attended to and remembered and seared deep into the soul.

Now I see that she too is like me, fully human, fully alive, struggling, doing the best she can.

And this morning another core belief suddenly floated to the surface. A chance remark on the radio about someone who had died who had been in the nightmare concentration camps. After he "made good choices" and lived fully, and the speaker went on to say that he lived believing in the importance of not being "chosen" but being a "chooser"; making the best choices he could at the time it came to make them.

One of those little bells rang inside me and the creaking of cogs turning in my head drove me to a conscious place.

Another core belief.
I am never chosen. This matters, it means I am not valued, loved, cherished. I am worthless, useless. Those sharp and stunningly quick thoughts that fly through the mind. The images of not being chosen for teams, parties, dances (oh those humiliating discos where no one asked me to dance,) being the odd one out in a pair. being afraid, even as an adult to apply for a job in case I was not chosen, to submit my name for a task in case I am overlooked, to push myself forward.

Why?

Those without such a negative cognitive set will by now be laughing out loud, not realising the power of the unconscious thought, hardwired into the brain. The protective evolutionary device that ensured choices in the jungle were made wisely and rapidly, before the time spent contemplating whether to fight or flee gave an opportunity to the sabre tooth tiger to get out the pepper and salt....

Because hardwired in my brain was the assumption that to be chosen was to be valued, to be loved and lovable. To be chosen is a marker of worth, of quality.
Which my non hardwired brain would feebly try and call out that it wasn't and secondly, it didn't matter.
Did it matter that I wasn't picked for the team? I hated sport anyway and would only get shouted at by the hard girls! Did it matter that no spotty adolescent asked me to dance? I hated their sweaty touch anyway. I missed for so long the point that being chosen wasn't important, choosing well was. And sadly, for so long, I let my hardwired brain do my choosing for me.

Then I lost my faith. I lost the ultimate element of being "chosen." If all else failed me, if all else rejected me, God had still chosen me, died for me.

Suddenly, no one had chosen me.

It has taken a long time to realise how important deep down this was to me and why I nearly fell apart at the seams. But thanks to many, some especially, I am now approaching 50 this week; fully human, fully alive and trying to be a chooser and worry less about being chosen.

Story from the start of the finish

It was probably a bit premature to call a post some time back the "Story from start to finish." So I guess the title here is a bit more appropriate. If the finish was the point at which I realised all I treasured and valued was lost, what I have come to realise in the last few years of dealing with this, is that there is seems to be no finish, rather a series of perpetual starts. I have been wandering round in circles, bumbling and staggering (especially since my foot drop- though that is another story) and occasionally dropping to the floor with a thunderous crash. But each time I have dragged myself up and start again, sometimes battered and bruised but always reflective, always ready to try again.

A few years on and I seem to be getting used to it, even relishing it as a challenge. As I said to son1 yesterday when in his best "drama queen" voice he asked me if I found him difficult, after 3 hours of prolonged nagging and pestering. "No, challenging!" and he laughed, as he had just started to recover his sense of proportion. Being able to see life as a series of challenges, some more fun than others, some painful and distressing, is helping me through life more than I would have thought possible. It is hard sometimes not to be like son1 and adopt the drama queen stance, in fact, sometimes it looks a welcome path, but the rocky, steep inclines and facing the spiders and dragons along the way is infinitely more rewarding and enjoyable in the end. And as a result, I no longer fear the spider!

So as once more I face September and the month it all began in many ways, I smile ruefully and wistfully for innocence lost and friendships gone, but know I hold now in my hands the answer.

If I could remember which hand I put it in....

And could find my glasses to locate it....

Answers on a postcard please!

Good Friday

Once such a special day
Waking up not to thoughts of a day off spent cheerily with the family
But a day, sombre, to remember how deep the love was
Now, vague echo only, wistful thoughts
Of what I might be doing today instead
But other stronger thoughts tell me
That all is well
And that today, like all my days, is another one for living
And loving
And that the message I thought I heard
From that day so long ago
Still lives in me
Life is for living and loving and dancing
Through the sombre difficult moments, through the painful times
And through the joy and the peace I now so often find.

Have a good Easter season
Living and loving and dancing
And may the joy it brings to you
Dance with you through the year

Time moves on...

It is amazing how much can happen in a couple of months
I saw a psychologist (finally) starting in November and following that, have gone up a gear in managing my life!
I'm now in a new full time job and am back doing on call
I am also due to start a diet group on Tuesday (lighter life- no food for 3 months eek)
Which will be interesting- will keep some notes here perhaps. Will need to do something to stop me craving food!

Son1 remains delightful- told me the other day very grumpily that his pyjama trousers didn't work.
(They had a hole in them...)
I love how he sees the world.

Son2 did not so well in his exams but is reflecting on this and is at least happy in himself
Hubbie is hubbie and as wonderful as ever...

Me?
I'm as mad as ever, but still trying to dance my way through the madness!

The best laid plans.....

"Christmas this year brings a nice break"

Um, well, no it didn't. It brought illness, firstly son1, who spent most of Xmas eve with a high fever throwing up (so I never got to go to church) then I was laid low by the lurgy. Today is the first day my brain has functioned on anything like the appropriate level! So we plan to have another Xmas celebration in January sometime to make up for it- after son2's exams finish....

But apart from being sore from coughing and tired from lack of sleep, I am ok, and will survive to fight another day.
I hope.
And as Son1 has today suddenly perked up and started being himself again, I only hope that I will do so too again tomorrow!
Happy New Year....

Seasons greetings...

Well this year, it came and went- and I totally forgot.
Probably because I was busy doing other things unwriteable about really, well here at least, continuing on my strange journey of self discovery, indulgence and childishness....

And now Christmas comes once more
Once the highlight, the celebration of the birth of he who came to make my life bearable.
Now it has the potential to be just another irritation in a life that seems to be full of them.
If you look at it that way.
I have discovered that by turning things round and inspecting them from other angles, irritations can become pearls, or at least, little nougats of wisdom. I am doing my best to do that with my job, but my fearful side remains firmly in control, all the whatifs overwhelm the havenots and my tummy lurches again.
But still I continue to twist and turn, to put on my half smile, to let irritations slip over my teflon mind.
I couldn't be a Buddhist though- acceptance was never my strong point, though I do have the figure for it now....

I digress
Christmas this year brings a nice break
Peace from work and the phone
Time to do my essay
Time to reflect
And I still have to go to church as I am "vital" says Colin though I think he is just being kind! So I have cut the nails on my left hand ready to play guitar and hope that my more laid back attitude to my former faith continues and doesn't cause me or anyone else any upset on the night of the service.
I shall play and sing about the angels and the shepherds and the coming of he who came to save us, and know that inside me there will still be that wistful side that wants it all to be true and believable again.
And that will never ever go
Nor do I want it to
It is like the remembered joy of the child finding it had snowed in the night, that peaceful feeling when the exam is over, the memory of a feeling that I can have no longer, but that I cannot forget.
Now there are memories of other feelings, the despair, the self hatred, the guilt. Those come from time to time and dance around too, less joyfully.
But with my half smile and my different perspectives, the memories and feelings have lost their power to drive and punish. So they can come too, and join the dance, as they too are part of me.

So as I have arrived at the back of Da Vinci's dark, mysterious cavern, and discover it is the carcass of a whale (that was a bit of a shock!) I am glad I entered and glad I explored, even if in the end I lost something once so precious to me. I will continue to dance on my way now, with whoever wants to join me, exploring, loving and living the only life I have.
Merry Christmas and may the new year bring what you need to carrying on loving and living to the full in your life....

Cath xxx

Twenty years ago today

Twenty years ago today
Unto me
Was born a son
Not lustily crying
Waving his fists
Sucking and supping at my breasts
But floppy
And blue
And breathless
And while the nurses dithered and the doctors pondered
The oxygen wasn't enough
The glucose fell too low
Sensitive parts went into slumber
Never to awake

Twenty years later
My child man
Makes me laugh
Makes me cry
Makes me hope
And sometimes despair
I love his innocence
His truthfulness
His clear sighted vision

But oh if only
If only I had said
"No, get the doctor back"
Stamped and screamed
Instead of passively sitting
and trusting
Would now he be in some far away town
On the booze with friends
Studying for a degree in something hard
That I couldn't begin to understand?

There
The tears have come
I have to grieve
It is right to do so
I love him so much
But he lost so much
And that is something
That will always make me cry

But no words of sympathy needed
Crying is what I should do
I cannot undo the past
But I can mourn for what was lost in it
And I can rejoice for what was left to me
The dearest, funniest child man
To whom I dedicate my life

Happy Birthday Tom
Mum xxx

Casting day

The moon is in the seventh heaven and my birthday has passed, tis time to cast out those faults that most bother the people round me.
In no particular order these are:
1. My tendency to "panic and pester" those around me when anxious. Poor son2 suffers most with this, but also the rest of family and colleagues....
2. My Greed. I suffer mostly as a result, and will throw this ruthlessly into a bubbling stream (well, ok, the small garden pond) in an attempt to rid myself of this tendency.
3. My inability to give up when I should- persisting despite harm! Where have I heard that before hehe
and finally
4. Self deprecation and not acknowledging that I am all that I can be.

I shall venture outside with my terrible cold and 4 crumbs of bread and gently throw them away...and then claim them back
Part of me
For better for worse
But things to be more aware of in this year and to gently prod when they get tiresome!

Onwards in my fiftieth year.

Casting away....

Have had more suggestions
From friend- that I should "Cast away the idea that you have significant faults or that you are somehow not all you could be." Similar to hubbie's really- stop putting myself down but perhaps in a more active way, not to just cast away the behaviour, but also the thoughts and underlying insecurities that go with it...

And from son2, a list.
Written after a weekend that I had struggled for hours to fix his printer...
Things to cast away
1.The way I panic and pester
2. My perfectionism
3. Stubbornness in not giving up when its time to do so
4 My poor memory (which was a bit of a joke as I couldn't remember the first three...)

Panic and pester "Have you done your homework?" "What time does it begin?" My anxieties that I try not to inflict on him but often end up doing so- that is something I can see clearly and identify with.
Perfectionism- I am not about to cast away! It is something i think I still need to hang on to, will keep that for another year!
Stubbornness in not giving up- I think I am better at this than I used to be but it still impacts on others when I continue persisting in something well past the point of no return.

My memory- bleh, wish I could cast it away!!

So I have another day to think before tomorrow, my birthday, when four things will drift away and be reclaimed, to be thought about and pondered and laughed about in the year. So my life examined will continue to grow and be hopeful and joyful, in the face of whatever comes along...

Happy unbirthday to me, and here's to a busy, difficult day that I know I have tomorrow, but with a wonderful evening out with hubbie to look forward to.....

Greed and self deprecation

Well I have two so far.
Greed- this one comes from me, I am always so greedy, wanting more pleasure, chocolate, food, drink, and all other vices that go with greed! So I will cast that in the water and accept that back, as it has always been part of me, a part that I find hard to control! Let's see what a bit of purifying in the water does for it...

Self deprecation- this is one hubby suggested this morning. I often make self deprecating statements, about how I look, think, behave. Sometimes with him, I agree, it's to produce a "No, you look OK, No, you did right there" but sometimes it is because I really feel that way, useless, fat, ineffective (spent over 2 hours trying to set up son2's printer only to dismally fail this afternoon) etc. Negative reflex thoughts shoot in and out and I ruminate on how useless I am, how ugly, how greedy.......
So this too will go in the water.
To be washed and received back
And thought about
Accepted as part of me but something that can wind poor hubby up no end and something that is no help to me.
So, time to cast it away and accept it back and play with it for the next year...


And as for the other two....
I think I might ask son2 to suggest one
That could be interesting!!
Watch this space......

Casting bread upon the water

It's that time again!
My birthday is due and in line with the long tradition established last year, I have to select four faults to cast upon the water. Last year, I cast my tetchiness, my bitchiness, my naughtiness and my wounding of self. Looking back over the year, what can I say?

Well, I think I am less tetchy, partly because my mood is probably better this week than it has been for years. I have read books, watched films the whole way through, focused on sorting stuff out that I have put off for ages. I am quite delighted and hope this is no temporary blip.

Bitchiness- well, yes, probably still there, in my mind at least. I have been more aware of my passive-aggressive bitchiness and as a result have controlled it more, while recognising that sometimes making models of individuals and sticking pins in is the only way to survive!

My naughtiness.......errrrrr.......well last year I decided to cast things on the water and claim them back, so that which is naughty and wicked in me, the naughty playful side continues but with new boundaries and understanding of where lines need to go. First rule is do no harm and in all sorts of ways, I think I have learnt to think through things a bit more.

My wounding of self- well, no thanks to the bread, but thanks to a certain dancer I have been waltzing with for the past few months, I have turned a self destructive tendency round and learnt perhaps for the first time, that to truly be of use to others, one has to love, care and nurture yourself. Thanks to my wonderful dance partner! Our dancing together may be less and sometimes absent, but memories of those dances will ever live on.

So four new faults to pick on for this year, as things I try to throw away but then reclaim and work with, to accept them as part of me and to change them, transform them, from weaknesses into strengths.

Greed has to be one
Possibly a bit of sloth
Internal preoccupation? maybe
I shall muse over this and produce a final list before B day......

College

Son1 starts college tomorrow.
A new phase.

He will have a 1:1 helper and all I can do is keep my fingers crossed and hope all that has been said about his course is true.
Doesn't half make my tummy go in knots.

What I need right now is a huge lottery win...or an unknown but eccentrically rich relative to leave me all in their will.
Or a new career that doesn't leave me quite so devoid of strength at the end of the day.

None of which will happen, at least not this side of my dreams.

So it is onwards and upward to see what tomorrow brings and to hope, that along with all the expected difficulties, there might be a little unexpected relief too...
Maybe the sun will even shine!!!

Cat xxx

Anniversary

1 year ago son2 started going out with gf
She is a lovely girl and it's their anniversary coming up
So I have brought him up to Leeds so they can sojourn together and be gleeful and joyful before returning to college after their long summer break.
What the future holds for them, I do not know.
And 1 year ago, I was here too, more or less.
In Leeds, a mess inside, but far more of a mess than I am now!
At least now, I know what the mess is about
Where it lives
And how to deal with it, even though I don't yet have all the tools.
So as I once more sit in Leeds, awake, tearful, but thoughtful and accepting, at least I am more assured that things are on the up.
Getting better
No longer to I think only of the negative
I can see through the tears and mist to where I want to be
And I can see me getting there...

Sleep well
Dream sweetly
Wake better....

All I have to do....

The last month or so has been a bit of a struggle.
I have developed a routine to get me to work in the morning- the "all I have to do" routine.
All I have to do is think my way through one thing at a time.
All I have to do is sit on the edge of the bed....move to the bathroom...take my tablets...clean my teeth.......
I end up in work in the end and once I get going in the daily routine, I have to think myself through things less.
But once home I collapse.
I know it won't last, but I do hate it when my body behaves like this.....

The sun...

The sun is out again.
I have been having an early morning sit in the garden, listening to the birds and the traffic in the distance on the motorway, and hearing others sit out too, eating breakfasts, chatting, smoking, all enjoying in their way this wonderous event.

The peace that the sun gives me I relish, I lie there, eyes shut, letting the warmth spread over my body and face, stretching and purring, truly cat like.

Then back to earth, boys to talk to, both mournful in their own way, one in the middle of exams, the other getting to the end of school and the uncertainty that will bring.

But my skin is warmed by those rays, and warmed inside I move on and do what needs to be done, carrying the sun and that peace with me.

May it shine on you today too!

Brave or stupid and foolish, he said....

Foolish, so foolish I am
Mutton dressed as lamb
Naive pretending sophistication
trusting the chancer
Believing all will be well
Hoping in others
Living in faith
Till death do us part
Chasing rainbows
Trusting in self

Yet true foolishness
is not being foolish
Not risking, but stagnating
Not loving, but keeping apart
Not trusting, but mistrusting,
Not grabbing joyfully chances that arise
And not going on with the dance....

Low Patch

I've hit a real low patch, which is partly to do with my totally inadequate diet and partly to do with the atmosphere at work, which is horrendous. That in turn is affecting the way I think, so anything in the least bit negative assumes huge proportions in my mind and I ruminate away, to the point of absurdity.

I can analyse it rationally, but I cannot stop it, and I've reached the point of going back to the GP to ask for a change in medication. I had been doing so well, too and thought that maybe the problem wasn't in the job but was in my attitude to it and was working a way out to change the attitude. Now all I can do is fight to get myself up and going every day.
Because I have to.
No choice.
No one else is going to bring the money home.

And I have occasional days of respite but once I am back into my ordinary life, this cloud descends again and I walk through treacle.

Crumb of comfort?
Or maybe get my act together and try and get these tablets changed....

The latter I think.

Subtle shadows

I have been having more tests, this time a wonderful white cell scan which involved me hanging round all day having blood taken then injected back into me labelled with radioactivity.The results were inconclusive- there were "subtle shadows" of white cell activity in the bowel but not enough for them to be sure I have Crohn's or similar.

So back to the consultant, I suspect he will adopt a wait and see if it gets worse approach, though after losing 2 stone, I don't know what else i can do. I am following his rather stringent dietry advice, alongside some stuff cadged off the net so maybe by the time I see him I will be better and things can move on.

But I was so hoping for a conclusive answer....one way or another.

But, as I tell the kids, you can't have everything you want. So on I go, following the advice, sipping my water, foresaking my coffee and eating a low fibre diet. It didn't show anything nastier, and for that, I am truly grateful.

Sex, masturbation and a dirty girl

I wrote this elsewhere and finally decided to put it here too. It does refer to sexual matters, so if that is uncomfortable, please ignore this post....

I think some of my difficulties with self image over the years are to do with the early attitudes installed in me about sex.

From early on, sex was something not to be desired, instead purity and eternal virginity was a goal to be sought. My devout Catholic parents ensured that God was a part of our house, someone accepted without question, one of the family. The saints were our friends and I was given books and stories of their lives. One thing to note was that the women all were virgins, allowing themselves to be martyred or tortured rather than raped, going straight to heaven for their purity.

Other messages were given. I once wore a bra and panties and lay on my bed, pretending I was wearing a bikini, sunbathing on a beach. We never had bikinis. My mother came in, without knocking and caught me at it, and yelled at me for my behaviour. Didn't I realise that was not on? I'm not sure if she thought I was masturbating then- in fact I wasn't, didn't learn that skill till later! but the message I got was I was impure, a dirty, dirty, dirty girl.

Then I was assaulted, sexually, in a way that would seem minor to many but was horrific to me. Near the park, on the way home from school, came home weeping and shocked and feeling so dirty. My mother was duely sympathetic and gave me a hug...but then nothing. Never again mentioned or talked about. Years later she was telling someone about it and how she went out driving the streets. looking for my attacker and I was amazed. I asked her why she hadn't said anything and she said they thought best not to, let it lie, then I'd forget about it.

But what she hadn't known was that about two years later I had a similar incident from one of the teachers in the sailing school I went to. he probably thought it a bit of a joke and could easily deny it if I said anything. Which I didn't. What was the point? Happens like that to dirty girls.

So, when at around 18 I learnt to masturbate (don't laugh, I read about it in a book and tried it and *boing* - with me forever...) it tore me into pieces. I would lie in bed, trying so hard to resist, to avoid it, not to do it, as I knew it was a sin, but as I fell asleep, I would weaken and play and come so hard,and then cry myself to sleep, disgusted with my weakness and dirtiness, hating myself for it all.

And as the fantasies I had as I did it grew- they were mainly around other women. If men figured, they were abusive, non consensual, holding my prisoner, forcing me against my will. I was at that stage one deeply mucked up depressed individual, convinced I was gay, who would be cast out from her family as a result. That's another story!

So in the end, courage in my hands, I went to confession and blurted it all out to a poor young Italian priest, while away "on pilgrimage" where I thought there would be no danger of the priest recognising my voice and knowing me and knowing what an evil sinner I was ever after.

He was compassionate but firm. This was a mortal sin (a sin that leads to hell if you die with it on your soul.) I had to stop it- ask the Virgin Mary, who would help and if I did fail, I should consider myself in grave peril and get to confession straight away. I was not to receive communion again, as that was an even worse sin, until I had told the priest what I had done and accepted myself as doing great evil.

I agreed, full of hope that at least I would be able to stop. I kept a diary at the time and even wrote about it, ecstatic that I had had the courage to confess. Don't forget that I was young, had been brought up immersed in one viewpoint that I took as real as the sea, the sand, the air, everything around me. Hell for me was a definite place, for torment.

So I tried.

Really really hard. I wore trousers and pants to bed, with tight tops over them,kept my arms outside the blankets, got up and hit my hand against a desk if I thought about doing it.

But I couldn't resist and I despaired of ever getting a hold on it. I spoke to my mother in the end, absolutely tormented that I was bound for hell and she didn't correct the priest but said she "had a friend" who used to masturbate and she advised her to get rid of the object. That didn't help as the object was (and is still) my index finger.

I did think about cutting it off, but at least had enough sense of reality to know that was extremely stupid, even though Jesus had recommended it ("If your right hand should cause you to fail.") In the end, in absolute despair I went to see a stranger priest who had come on "mission" to the church and poured it all out, this broken young woman. He sounded bored and sarcastically gave me advice, wondering why I found it so hard to go to confession and admit it- perhaps not realising the extent of my despair and self hatred.

Eventually, in one of my confessions which happened so frequently after that, a priest corrected my now all obsessing scruples. Told me that habit was habit and I should aim to break it but not be all tied up with it and not consider myself on the road to perdition if I fell. Gradually, I learnt to accept that advice and eventually managed to get "and I am guilty of impurity, with myself, on several occasions" to come out in confession without too much angst or fear, though my despair at my weakness, self hatred and disgust stayed as major parts of my psychological make up, still present.

Then,when I lost my faith two years ago, you would think that all this angst and fear would disappear, but it is tied so hard into my beliefs about my self and sex. Part of my "exploring" up to now has led to finding all this out and also becoming incredibly angry with a cultural system that leads to so much misery about something so natural.

So I still am guilty at times, filled with self disgust at times, have difficulty celebrating what joy sex can be. But I hide it, so no one knows what a dirty, disgusting girl I am. And even writing that still makes me cry, though far less than it would have done a year ago.

Soooo.....I'm off to dry my face and have a shower. Have a good day and be thankful that few people are brought up as I was now....And give me another two years though, by the time I am 50, maybe I can celebrate and enjoy the sexual side of life without even a trace of fear and guilt.

Not a good day....

Today has not been a good day overall.
Work was as usual and I arrived home, to be greeted as ever, by T
Full of his usual talk and as I answered, I was acutely aware that here was a child talking.
Not a man of 19
But a child, forever a child.
And my heart ached.

Then I noticed hubbie was- not himself. Mw was stuck in his room as usual, curtains drawn, XBox on.
The plan had been to go out for lunch, but it didn't happen, Mw refused to go.

After some diplomatic prodding and probing it turned out that Mw had said no- because he hates going out with T. Cannot stand being with him at the moment. And hubbie was finding this hard to carry.

Because it is.
Hard to carry a son forever a child, a brother forever irritating, a sister forever dependant, a job forever hard and stressful.

So he is downstairs, not wanting to talk- tomorrow I will be better, he says stubbornly, pushing me away.
Mw is in his room and will not come out.
And T is humming while filling his bath and asking me silly questions.
Me, I have my music on.
And when i returned to the room, full of the sorrow of a family hurting, the music on was the sublime U2 live version with the gospel singers- who still, like me, haven't found what they are looking for.

Nobody said it would be easy.
Just wish it wouldn't always be so hard....

But ne thing I know....
I will not be broken
I will survive to dance another day
Mw will grow and learn
And there will always be good days and bad days
But even on bad days, the blossom will not stop blooming
and the birds will not stop singing