I am shaking... but it is OK

My body is shaking. It has been aware that this all feels like the biggest thing it's ever done for a month or more now.

It responds to feelings of bigness with anxiety and physical shaking.

But my mind is reasonably calm. For me. All things considered.

I have learnt a lot this past couple of years.

I have learnt that when my thoughts start to whirl or I wake in the middle of the night and cannot go back to sleep, that if I can only focus outside of my head on something else, I will notice that the noise and racing are only in my own head, they are not "reality". So I bring my attention to the tips of my fingers, my toes, and really feel them. And then listen to the outside world, it is calm and still. My mind whirls round, and I listen, as intently as I can to the sound of stillness outside of me.

Then I bring myself back into my body and feel it, bit by bit from the inside. Approaching it with curiosity rather than panic or accusation. Feeling rather than reacting. I feel the whirling in my solar plexus and I realise that I am not here, I am scattered everywhere, in every interview, and upcoming interview, and launch work and email, I have sent little pieces of my energy body out around the world. Of course I am feeling shaky and ungrounded.

And I realise to that this is a feeling of breaking through old limitations, old shells of reality that have cradled and cocooned me over the years, old cases of comfort that are breaking open, allowing me to expand my reach, my visions of myself, my abilities... but like the new butterfly coming out of its cocoon I am still soaking in the juices of transformation, my new belly is soft and vulnerable, it will take a little time for me to dry my wings and feel myself in this new form.

I now know that the shaking, though whilst accompanied by feelings of nausea and light anxiety, is not actually fear, nor something to be scared of. It is the shaking of a body in the transition stages of birth. Between contractions and pushing. And it is OK.

I now know the reason that this book has taken the time it did to come together and be birthed into the world is because of the power it holds. It is big, powerful stuff I have channelled through me and onto its pages, and in order to handle this energy, and deliver it in the way that shares it with as many people as possible I needed to be strong enough, I needed to be experienced enough in all the aspects of it: writing, publishing, marketing, creativity, energetically. And my children needed to be big enough to let me have the space and time to give myself so fully to its birth.

So here I am, standing on the threshold. The impetus growing by the day. All the hard, hard work I have done unseen for months, years, is coming to fruition. Harvest time is approaching. The final ecstatic pushes.

I am shaking. But it is OK. It is powerful stuff.

Tender

Yesterday a lovely blog reader shared a comment on my post about doing battle with my daughter:

"I know this scene! We can do that dance. Just last night. Afterwards my daughter made me a card, carefully cut out with coloured in love hearts and best handwriting "To Mum, mum loves me, I love mum" (oh!) and sweet words, connection, understanding. This love is so huge. "

Reading it, a rather profound thought just occurred to me - maybe the fight beforehand is a way of tenderising us, like the way we bash meat with a mallet to make it less tough.

Perhaps anger, battles and even hate are the best way the Universe knows of opening us fully to love. Of taking away our defences, leaving us standing there vulnerable and open so that love can just pour in. So that we can really feel it to the tips of our toes, really feel how big and true it is, so that we can, even if just for a moment, have our entire beings taken over by love, and feel the most profound connection - made even more special by knowing how it feels to be absent from it and have come so close to losing it.

Imagine.

I think it might just be true!

And if it is, it means that everything that comes between us is just interference in the bandwidth of pure love flowing between us all.

Emotional Stew with Dumplings on Top

My feelings are all of a muddle.

I had been warned by mothers a-plenty that this would happen. But, in the way we all get through life, I had decided that it wouldn't happen to me. That I would be different. I was, after all, exempt from the emotions of other mere mortals.

Yeah right!

So the morning that I have been longing for for almost 4 years arrives. Ash started playschool today. And now all three kidlets are in school/ playschool five mornings a week.

Am I dancing on the rooftops?

Nope. My mama heart is broken open, sad and lonely. Echoes of silence mock my glee at being alone. I go to a cafe to be fed and have company.

I am sad.

But I know I will be happy.

I feel empty, but know I will be fuller and richer as a result.

I am an emotional stew with dumplings on top!

Change, change, change. That is the only constant in this life. We long for it... then suffer through it. And never learn. As stifling as the present moment usually is, the future is often emptier. Emptiness opens up space for potential new growth. But it is only when we have the space that we see how much we are attached to the past that we struggled with.

An honest RSVP

Thank you for the invitation to your party.

I was delighted to receive it and happy that you are celebrating.

Unfortunately I will not be able to make it.

I can make up an excuse, right now or nearer DDay. I usually do, though you may not know this...to make us both feel better.

I'm hoping it won't matter hugely to you, I would have just been a face in the crowd. But I am touched I am part of your crowd, truly. If my presence really matters hugely to your enjoyment, I know you will try to convince me to come. This makes it even harder to say the following...

The truth is this. I am not good at parties. There I have said it.

The need to be "on good form" and "let my hair down" tends to induce the opposite feelings in me: stress, pressure and anxiety. It brings out my depressive demons in force.

Chances are I won't know what to wear. If it's fancy dress I'll feel twice a dick. I'll feel the fattest person there. Second I won't know what to say. I am not good at small talk. I feel I have nothing of value to contribute. Third I won't know what to do. That makes me really anxious. That's why at parties you will often find me in the kitchen, doing something practical, working, you'll tell me to relax, but in truth, this is how I can. Ha! I've just realised why I catered for my own wedding!

Then there'll be photographs. I hate being in photos. You may not know we didn't have a photographer at my own wedding for this reason.

Then there'll be lots of noise (my head starts to go all jangly) and dancing (and I won't know what to do with my body and I'll feel all self conscious again.) And lots of alcohol, which I can't do.

Hence why you tend to find me sitting quietly by myself at parties, or clinging for dear life to the conversation of one friend. And why I'll always leave early. And if I do these things, you'll worry that I'm not enjoying myself, that there's something wrong. And there's no need for that.

In truth my life is quite limited, the things I do, the social situations I go to. This works for me. I've learnt that pushing myself harder leads to meltdown.

The only parties I'm any good at involve spontaneity. Very small groups, where I know everyone. Outdoor gatherings. And are centred around food, sat down. You organise that, I'll be there. Promise.

So know that my refusal is nothing to do with my feelings for you. It's just my way of staying sane a little longer. And I know as a friend, you would want that for me too.

I hope you have a wonderful time.

Thank fuck for school

Its Monday morning. The house is quiet. Our two older kids are at school.

And I think: thank fuck!

I bitch and whine and whinge and moan about school. About the amount of colouring in, religious dogma, early mornings, lack of creativity and imagination...

But here's what I love about it. Last week I was sick all week. And someone else had my kids all day. Took care of them and even taught them some stuff. For free. And I didn't have to feel guilty about asking favours or plonking them in front of the TV.

Do you remember my annual back to school jitters, which this year found us a hair's breadth from quitting and home schooling? Ironically, the thing that perhaps confirmed our need to continue with school was a post written by a home schooling friend about ten reasons you shouldn't home school. We fit 8 of them.

So in the spirit of joy pockets, I want to honour the good in our current educational choices.

1) My children can read, write, spell and add really well. In this world where even a basic education is still a luxury that so many children do not have access to, the fact that we get this for free is nothing to sniff at.
2) It gives us structure to our days, which I know would be lovely not to have some days. But being the structure setter every day is tiring. And if we don't have a plan my kids don't get dressed and we don't do anything. Which is not OK with me on a daily basis.
3) Someone else has responsibility for if my kid can read, count, recognise the flag of Namibia and speak pidgin Irish. And do cross country races. And algebra. Cos all these things are important, right?
4) The parents. What a wonderful, caring, supportive bunch they are at our school. Love 'em.
5)The garden - a strange one, but true. Gotta love a school with a veg garden, kid made scarecrows, hens and a compost heap. And fields to play in.
6) A school where big and little kids play together. Where everyone knows everyone else. Where the principal knows my daughter's name in the first two weeks. Where we all feel safe.
7) My children get to learn about and from other adults who have different strengths, skills, characters and knowledge to me.
8) The range of activities is so much larger than I can offer at home.
9) Very importantly for me and my cautious kiddies: they, and we, are stretched out of our comfort zones. We do stuff that we might not try at home, or that we might not persist with if we were following our own whims. This actually is a good thing.
10) School's so close. Less than five minutes walk. No car journeys, we walk thru the seasons. And I can pop in to see them at break time, just because I love them and they're mine. And that's OK.
11) They don't have to put up with me all day. And when we get together again in the afternoon we have more time, love and enthusiasm for each other.
12) I get my work days. I cannot tell you how important they are to me.
13) And I get lovely quiet one to one mornings with my little Ash. Which is especially important as she's the third child. So we get to do play group, play dough and nursery rhymes.

So I am grateful. Very grateful.

And the leaves fall down

The falling leaves drift by my window

The falling leaves of red and gold

Eva Cassidy

I am tired. Bone tired. Dead tired.

I feel about 150. On a good day. 

Dark moon, plus chesty cough, plus an end of a lot of demanding commitments find me dropping leaves as the season requires, lightening my load, hibernating. Early to bed. Resting all day. Doing minimum in the house, or with the kids, or friends.

I need to curl up in a ball under a blanket of dried leaves, at the roots of an old oak tree and feel myself held completely. To be rested, warm and quiet. The warmth of the earth like a cocoon.

I find myself digging down, deeper, deeper as the nights get longer, I find myself turning in. And in deepening I need to let go that which no longer serves, that which once was me, but no longer fits. 

I walk the spiral path, deeper, round and round it goes. I revisit states of being, passions, ideas. I have been here before, and yet I was not the me I now am. I have more perspective on the insight they offer. I collect their gems of wisdom like ripe apples, carrying them with me in my skirt. I see the spiders web, Indira's net, glistening with autumn dew. I smell the change of the seasons. The death that makes way for new life. The excesses of summer falling down to be subsumed into the earth once more.

I have given all I have, all I can. I am drained. 

And now I will rest. And nurture myself. And receive.

Falling, falling, but safe....

Where are you at, right now? 

Dearest Mama...

Dearest mama,

You started out with such high hopes, big dreams – how you would help the world to embrace your dear sweet children. You whispered your promises to them in the womb. Of how you would be the perfect mother – ever gentle, kind and patient. Of how you would do everything for them, with them. And you truly meant it.

For years you tried to be the perfect mama. But the pain that you weren’t was almost unbearable. You felt a failure. You felt guilty. You felt like giving up, running away. Often you threatened to quit.

Don’t be hard on yourself. You are the only mama they know. The only mama they love. The only mama you know how to be. And that is more than enough.

You wanted to make your past better through your mothering. But you can’t. You can’t erase your own pain, however hard you try to be perfect or love your children more.

You do your best not to recreate your own suffering it in their lives. You are committed to love. You are conscientious. And that has to be enough. The world does not change in a day, and neither will you. Remember you are your ancestors’ hopes and dreams incarnate. But you are also their hurts and failings writ large.

You love your children, though you may shout at them. You feed them and put up with their complaints when they don’t like dinner.  You clothe them and weather their tantrums over too-tight clothes. You mother them at six in the morning, at lunchtime, at midnight when they wake with sore teeth. When you are sick, you mother them still. You tend to their hurt knees with a mother’s love.  You help them to find the answers their souls are seeking. You tickle and tumble with them. You show them the size of a mother’s love and the reality of a mother’s life. You give them language with which to engage with the world. You hold their hearts in your hand and ask them about their dreams. You throw your sticks together into the river of life. Now watch them float. You are not meant to be their pilot. Let go with the flow. Let it wash over you all.

You spend so long focusing on the minutiae – the moments that you yell, not the moments that you embrace them, which in the bigger picture far out-number the cross words and impatience which you feel colours your days.

Be sure that what they will hold in their souls are all the things you cannot see – the way your hair falls over your face as you kiss them goodnight, the soft pillow of breast as they snuggle up to you at night, the way you say certain words, the magical contents of your jewellery box, your love of books, the way you loved them when they felt ill and frightened. When you cheered loudly for them in the school play or showed your heartfelt appreciation of their picture. And fleeting moments when you stood hand in hand on the edge of the ocean in the light of the full moon.

Just try, for a moment to see yourself through their eyes. See yourself as the most important woman in their world.

Because that is what you are. You, dearest woman, are a goddess to them, though they will never tell you. You are love incarnate. Your perceived flaws just make you human.

Allow yourself to feel the depth and breadth of your love. Their love. Nothing else matters.

  

Lucy x

This is my contribution to a very special book which has just been published. Note to Self : The Secret to Becoming your own Best Friend invites you to discover the beauty and power of self-love, acceptance and becoming your own best friend. Exploring topics such as Healing, Menstruation, Motherhood and Body Image, Note to Self shows you how to embrace who you are and write love letters for your soul. It includes a collection of letters from 30 inspiring women around the world including Tabby Biddle, Jane Harwicke Collings ... and me!!

Heartfelt and loving, it was the creative child of the lovely Jo MacDonald from The Red Box Company whom I met on the Goddess Circle who, like me, works in the field of women's and girl's empowerment.

E-books and paperback versions of Note to Self are available to buy from Jo, here...

"A truly inspiring read filled with encouragement on speaking your truth and living authentically!" Kimberly Wilson, Author of Hip Tranquil Chick and Tranquilista

“Every woman, in fact every teenage girl, should read this book...” Jen Saunders, Founder & Editor-in-chief Wild Sister Magazine
 
10% of all profits go to Plan's 'BECAUSE I AM A GIRL' charity project 

Almost

We almost lost our daughter last week.

This is what keeps going through my head as I hold her little, warm body close. Grateful, so grateful for her continuing presence. For the miracle that was. Today and yesterday almost weren't. I am emotionally and physically shaken to my core. As are the whole family. We are now all too aware of the invisible line between normality and tragedy. I am deeply awake to my mother self once more, to the primal biology of the fact that my children are now and always will be, flesh of my flesh. A fact that can be dulled by the daily drudgery of mothering, the complacency regarding the blessings that my children are to me, to us all.

Last Thursday our youngest, a dainty two and a half year old ringletted rascal of a girl fell out of her upstairs bedroom window onto the concrete path below. I got the call at work from a dear friend who was having coffee at our house with my husband. "She's bleeding out of her mouth and nose, but she's crying.I'll come and get you."

I put down the phone and started to run home, hands held in prayer, praying, praying.

The path had a pool of blood. And there in the kitchen, my baby, so small and battered and bloody in her daddy's arms. Crying for me.

I held her. And held her. At home. In the emergency room. all night in the narrow hospital bed. The next day and night. I held her and breathed my prayers. Knowing how close we came to never being able to hold her again. Holding another mothers story in my heart of a daughter who fell from a tree and didn't make it. Showing her little videos of her and her siblings playing on the I phone knowing that they might have been our last memory. I held her as she slept and slept, knowing that the child who emerged from this tragedy might not be the same one as before. My family have been through the trauma of severe brain injury with my cousin only two years ago. And she was so much smaller. Falling onto concrete. Without a helmet.

They did test after test. Woke her every hour. And beyond possibility there is no sign of internal injury anywhere. No brain damage. No broken bones. No teeth gone. Just a huge black eye and chin. A swollen face. A large infected cut in her mouth and round her teeth. Nowhere that will visibly scar. And no emotional trauma for her.

I feel sick each time we go down our road. Each cookie cutter house with the same two upstairs windows. The same concrete path. And I know, though it sounds too corny to be true, that the only way she survived that fall is that she was cushioned by angels wings. And we have been surrounded by them too in the form of friends and family, in our days of recovery since, as we help heal her body and our parent souls, from the nightmare of almost.

What a blast: view from the other side of my fears

Miracles start to happen when you put as much energy into your dreams as you do into your fears.

Richard Wilkins

I had my first art exhibition last night. (photos to come later!)

I still find it hard to believe.

Not even six months ago I was physically in terror of risking painting. Only in the past month have I gotten up the courage to start a sketchbook again.

Mr DA will have lost count of the amount of times in the past three months that I have definitively stated that I cannot, will not do this exhibition.

I really enjoyed the evening, which was hugely well attended. 3 paintings sold, a number of others are under consideration. A couple of copies of my book and buckets loads of cards (available from here).

I planned it, thanks to everything I have learnt over the past year writing Moon Time, according to my menstrual cycle ( ovulation) and the moon ( full) to ensure I had my own full energy resources behind me and enhanced and supported by the moon's pull.

It was also Lunasadh - the time to reap the summers havest. And 2 days off seven years since I became a mother, 8 since I became a wife, that I let myself out of the bag to all who know me.

It felt like a very powerful initiation to see how far I have come in this past eight years. My own personal initiation into creative rainbow mama hood. Perhaps that is why I could not finish the book, which I realised last week when I spoke to Lynn Andrews needs to take the form and spiritual energy of an initiation.

I felt cradled in the love and support of all my friends and family cradling me. I was delighted that I was not on show for press and could just connect heart to heart.

There were two special conversations that stay with me. Both with people whom the Universe rather than I invited. The first was with a far out therapist and wild man who has been in my family's life for a long time. He has eyes that penetrate your soul and make you feel as naive as a child, a growling deep voice like and earthquake. A beard which states he is a man of wild places and breath heavily perfumed with ganja. "these paintings come from a deep place" he said "I can really feel that and I honour that." he said lots more which touched me deeply but I cannot recall words.

The other conversation was with a very strafe character. I often wonder if she is real, but others seem to see her. She is the closest to a mouthpiece/ archetypal counsellor from the Universe who has ever fallen into my life. Anyway our paths first crossed in February. This was our third meeting. "hazel told me she was going to Lucys exhibition, she said, and I thought it must be a different Lucy" - ( I've had this before when someone saw these posters up all over the place for lots of interesting sounding classes, in creative writing and drama and yoga and couldn't believe when the same name -mine- was at the bottom. We met at the food writing course, the first copies of my book were about to arrive. I had not yet started to paint. Her jaw just kept on dropping when I told her that not only had I started painting just after we first met, but that I was also teaching blogging at the Cookery School, and was being paid to help Darina start her own blog. Her chin was nearly touching the floor by that point.

And so, dear readers, that is how I feel too, right now. Very proud of myself! I cannot begin to tell you the amount of major, major, major blocks I have blasted through to get to this point today.

Thank you, thank you to each and every one who has sat and listened to me do battle with them. I know how tedious I can be, how draining it can be to be immersed in the seemingly endless waves of anothers' negativity. To everyone who has held me, comforted me, practically supported me. Thank you.

Now do this for yourselves. Break the walls of your own fears and I will be here as doula to your dreams, holding your hand, listening to your fears and cheering you on the other side as one who knows.

Really. Truly.

What is love but loving?

Learning and laughing,

Risking and sharing,

Fearing and fearing some more,

But having the courage to overcome it all.

Love is jumping into a fast flowing stream and not knowing where it will take you.

It is someone who you can discuss both the price of coffee and the deepest yearnings of your soul,

Interchangeably.

Loving is knowing to trust the unknown and rejoice in the cycles of familiarity.

Loving is having the courage to hold a mirror up to your own face,
And not be too proud to admit your failings.

Intangible: 
The stuff all life is made of.

Love is having a hand to hold as you dive into your dreams,

A hand to guide you and a hand to let you go.

(Words I wrote for our wedding ceremony)

Today is our eighth wedding anniversary.

When I think back to us then, I had just turned 24. "Too young" said many. "Are you sure?"

For most around us we were a done deal since we first met. And it was. It has always felt inevitable. Meant to be. It was like the heavens said "Here, here is your life partner, he is a gentle, kind, loving, compassionate man, someone who will be devoted to you in your darkest hour, your only task is just not to fuck it up - don't get impatient, don't run off looking for thrills, don't get bored - if you are willing to learn the lesson of commitment, then this is our gift to you."

And I have nearly fucked it up. Many times in 14 years.  The heavens know me too well. Mainly over sex - not wanting it, not really enjoying it, of wanting it with other people; over wanting to live apart; over my academic ambitions; over domestic chores; over general frustration; through maternal despair and exhaustion. And I'm sure I've got plenty more opportunities to fuck it up lying straight ahead. In fact, that's something I can guarantee.

But he has never once nearly thrown in the towel on us (at least that I know of!) And believe me it's not that I'm easy to live with. That shows you the kind of man he is!

Let me share what I said that day we married in the tea house:

"Relationships have always been the most integral and important part of my life, and the central relationship for me is my partnership with Patrick. I am not a half-hearted sort of person. I only do things which I am passionate about, and this and he is something I am truly passionate about. I feel so blessed to have him in my life. Today is another important step for me, for us: the chance for me to put my full and public commitment behind our relationship. In recognition of our life together, and our unity when heading into the future.

I see our relationship as a ground for challenge and adventure, both individually and together- a place to learn more about ourselves and relationships in all areas of our lives. To open ourselves out rather than to close ourselves off. To me this celebration is my own true acknowledgement of what is. That is my partnership with a wonderful man who loves and cares for me often more than I am capable of myself, who believes in me totally and doesn’t let me sell myself short. 

Patrick is a man of true integrity, justice and immense loyalty, as all of you who are close to him will know. He, even more than me, isn’t one for show- what you see is what you get. He is a man of high principles which he lives, and of lofty dreams which he doesn’t surrender to cynicism. His intellectual abilities go without saying, but his capacity for reflection, for true appreciation of beauty and the wonder of nature and human skill is humbling. But most of all, as many of you will testify he is the best friend one could hope for- in sickness and health, for better for worse he is there- I haven’t tried the richer and poorer bit- but here’s hoping! I have such deep respect for him, though I don’t show it nearly enough. I love the life we share and I look forward to continuing on our journey together and all that our futures may hold."

This has been the year, due to circumstances and conscious decisions, that we became a truly solid partnership, rather than a couple - when we really found our groove and each other in all our depths and complications. And truly, this has been our best year. Really. And for that I am delighted. Amazed. Grateful.

It took the madness of parenting three young kids. Of really struggling to keep our sanity and values with the parenting of our most challenging child. Of deciding to follow our hearts with work. Of having almost no money. Of deep support through mental disintegration. Of truly finding each other intimately, tenderly, passionately.

This year we have truly seen each others strengths and weaknesses in action. Learning better when to give space, when to give support, when to take over and when to kick ass. 

He is slow, I am speedy. He is thorough, I am slapdash. He chokes almost every time he has a drink and I get hiccups when I eat mashed potato. He gets addicted to long running American drama series and I have a serious Pinterest habit.

We know each other through and through at this stage.

He teaches me commitment, about giving myself wholly and mindfully to the task in hand and doing it thoroughly. He gives me perspective and shows me how to talk myself down from insanity, despair and emotional meltdown. He teaches me truly about giving myself to the moment.

I teach him how to unleash his creativity and sensuality, how to talk from the heart and share feelings, how to keep on trying to find his passion and live it out, to take risks and be impetuous, how to go easy on himself.

We agree to disagree on the relative merits of opera versus Eva Cassidy. But there is so much we share: our  love of travel, good food, stand up comedy, The Cat Empire and Thai rock, a glass of wine, bonfires, mornings in bed, and our three precious, quirky children...

And each other.

I love you PT.

Really. Truly.

Guilt doesn't live here any more

I was at a friend's house, admiring a craft book she had received as a gift. She said something which sounded like a foreign language to me. "I feel really guilty every time I see it, I asked for it for my birthday,and someone spent money on it, and I haven't made anything from it."

Perhaps you recognise this feeling? Guilt used to be one of the most pervasive emotions in my life. I felt guilty about everything. But in particular my entire existence and its impact on everyone.

Yes, I had a very strong case of the guilties. Symptoms of which include: apologising for everything all the time, low lying anger and resentment, feeling shit, self flagellation...But I realised in that moment, with exception of my deeply embedded maternal guilt, that guilt does not live here any more.

It was a truly liberating realisation. I had a think about what had changed. And it came to me.

Guilt is a sense of your own unworthiness. It is a blocking, rejecting act. The antidote to guilt is gratitude. It is pretty much impossible to feel guilt if one is grateful for something.

Gratitude is an opening of your hands and heart towards what has been bestowed on you.Gratitude, as I wrote in Wild Sister magazine, is a relatively new practice for me, and it's working magic!

So next time you feel guilty. Take a step back. See yourself shrunken and small and feeling its lack. Then find something to feel grateful for in that situation. And watch the greatest disappearing act of all time: POOF! Your guilt has gone!

Transition - the nauseous stage of creative birth

Sick.
That's how I feel right now.
Why?
Because people want to buy my paintings!
That's nuts, right?
Totally flipping bonkers.
I should be cracking open the champagne.
But instead I feel like I'm upside down on a rollercoaster.
This is the nausea of risk-taking, of big dreams being set free.
This is the feeling of the ego rubbing shoulders with the elusive will-o-the-wisp who creates my work.
For some it stops them in the midst of their creative work. For others it stops them even making a start.
For me it happens when I am ready to birth.
The work of creation is done, the product that I have laboured over is there. And I feel sick.
What if they hate it? What if they laugh? What if it's crap? What if they all see that I'm a total fraud.
Remember this from the book.
Yup, we're here again.
This is transition. I remember it from birth. It's the point where the adrenaline kicks out for a moment, your internal rhythms shift gears and you feel like you're in free fall without a parachute - shit - how did I get here? What do I do now?
The conscious mind panics. The intuition and body knowing that have brought us thus far, on faith and fairy dust, cut out.
And then, just when you feel you can't bear it any more, wooooooooooooosh, the urge to push. Like breaking through a screen, and into the movie itself.
The truth arrives.
As you give birth to your babies, you give birth to yourself.
Raw, vulnerable, beautiful, joyous, terrifying, magnificent, heart stopping, exhilarating.
THIS is creativity!
Now pass me a sick bowl!

Mama Bashing

Welcome to the February 2012 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Respectful Interactions With Other Parents

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama. This month our participants have focused on how we can communicate with other parents compassionately.
***

One of the things I find hardest on-line is the levels of judgement and competitive mama-ing I have witnessed: in forums, on blogs...

I call it mama-bashing.

I was gobsmacked the first time I witnessed it. It was like a forest fire. Women around the UK were obviously sat glued to the ensuing battle, their comments flying in thick and fast. Feverish anger, name calling, finger pointing, reputation smearing, judgements left, right and centre.

Mama-bashing… the online equivalent to stoning.

I felt sick and shaken.

And do every time since that I have witnessed it.

I have seen it just as often in the natural parenting blogosphere as the mainstream. And it cuts me to the core.

I have never been much good in conflict situations.

Mama-bashing  is like a playground fight. The sides gather, drawn by a controversial opinion – often genuine, sometimes trollish. If our children were involved in such vicious behaviour, we would not find it acceptable.

But instead because smacking is right or wrong, or breastfeeding needs to happen to this or that. Because sugar/ school/ doctors are right… or wrong (given the forum any of the above can be true… or not!)

Differences it seems are not acceptable.

There is good… and bad. And woe betide the person who pokes their head above the wrong parapet to speak their truth, to venture a difference of opinion, to challenge the status quo. Or even to state point blank that they tried this… and it did not work. Or circumstances made things this way for them.

Behind the scenes, in private Facebook groups, by text message and in person, there is baiting, bitching, shock, glee, tears, deep hurt…

This is my least favourite bit of human beings. Especially women folk. The anonymity of blogging brings out the worst of it.

And so, I take this opportunity to request an end to mama-bashing. An end to public humiliation, judgement and hurt. An end to stoning the bad woman. To ask that we see the vulnerable mother before the opinion. The woman muddling through under the cloak of certainty. To embrace the whole gamut of peoples’ personalities, experiences, situations and cultures. To abstain from supreme judgement, and an acceptance that we are all, deep down, doing the best we can. And those that are not… well that is between them and social services, them and their god. Not us.

I try my utmost to ensure that it will not happen here. In all my 17 months of blogging I have had only one slightly hurtful comment, that I should go and get anti-depressants – though I know it was meant with care. A friend had a similar comment on her blog, which was not voiced so carefully.

And so I am mindful with comments- both mine and others – that the comment usually say more about the commenter than the post.

Some people find expressing their emotions or deep truths hard, some find expressing themselves in writing hard – don’t we all really? Some are communicating in a second or third language, some will be having past hurts or present guilts exercised by your words.

And, as we have discovered in our women’s group – the written word is not good for communicating tone - often hurts are no more than misunderstandings: humour or irony not interpreted.

And so whilst I respect that others choose to use their experiences with parenting choices to categorically inform others, this is not what I choose for my blog. The only thing I can know with absolute truth is my own experiences, my own ambiguous, ever shifting reality. This I speak as my truth - reclaiming my "I".

Because in the end, I do not have certainty. I cannot know that my choices are better than yours. But I can share my journey and how I have come to my choices.

As with all aspects of free speech and contraversial opinion, I risk, by speaking my mind, to be judging the judgers. I hope the message of peace in this post, is louder than the voice of war and that we might further the wonder of this online project through mindful interactions.

In the words of Anne Frank: "We all live with the objective of being happy; our lives are all different and yet the same."

***

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Visit Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!
Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:
(This list will be live and updated by afternoon February 14 with all the carnival links.)

• How to Respond Respectfully to Unwanted Parenting Advice and Judgment — At Natural Parents Network, Amy (of Peace 4 Parents) offers some ways to deal with parenting advice and criticism, whether it's from your mom or the grocery store clerk.
• Judgement is Natural - Just Don't Condemn — Jennifer at Hybrid Rasta Mama shared her views on why judgment is unavoidable and why the bigger issue is condemnation.
• Four Ways To Share Your Parenting Philosophy Gently — Valerie at Momma in Progress shares tips for communicating with fellow parents in a positive, peaceful manner.
• When Other Parents Disagree With You — Being an attachment parent is hard enough, but when you are Lily, aka Witch Mom, someone who does not enforce gender roles on her kid, who devalues capitalism and materialism, and instead prefers homeschooling and homesteading — you are bound to disagree with someone, somewhere!
• Mama Bashing — Lucy at Dreaming Aloud reflects on the hurt caused on the blogosphere by mama bashing and pleads for a more mindful way of dealing with differences.
• Accentuate the Positive — Joella at Fine and Fair shares how she manages interactions with the parents she encounters in her work as a Parent Coach and Substance Abuse Counselor by building trusting relationships and affirming strengths.
• The politics of mothers – keys to respectful interactions with other parents — Tara from MUMmedia offers great tips for handling the inevitable conflict of ideas and personalities in parenting/mother's groups, etc.
• Trying to build our village — Sheila at A Gift Universe tells how she went from knowing no other moms in her new town to building a real community of mothers.
• Internet Etiquette in the Mommy Wars — Shannon at The Artful Mama discusses how she handles heated topics in the "Mommy-space" online.
• Parenting with Convictions — Sarah at Parenting God's Children encourages love and support for fellow parents and their convictions.
• How To Be Respectful Despite Disagreeing On Parenting Styles... — Jenny at I'm a Full-Time Mummy shares her two cents' worth on how to have respectful interactions with other parents despite disagreeing on parenting styles.
• Public Relations — Momma Jorje touches on keeping the peace when discussing parenting styles.
• Navigating Parenting Politics — Since choosing an alternative parenting style means rejecting the mainstream, Miriam at The Other Baby Book shares a few simple tips that can help avoid hurt feelings.
• Hiding in my grace cave — Lauren at Hobo Mama wants to forget that not all parents are as respectful and tolerant as the people with whom she now surrounds herself.
• Carnival of Natural Parenting - Respectful Interactions with Other Parents — Wolfmother at Fabulous Mama Chronicles explores how her attitude has changed regarding sharing information and opinions with others and how she now chooses to keep the peace during social outings.
• Empathy and respect — Helen at zen mummy tries to find her zen in the midst of the Mummy Wars.
• Not Holier Than Thou — Amyables at Toddler in Tow muses about how she's learned to love all parents, despite differences, disagreements, and awkward conversations.
• Nonviolent Communication and Unconditional Love — Wendylori at High Needs Attachment reflects on the choice to not take offense as the key to honest and open communication.
• Respectful Parenting As a Way of Life — Sylvia at MaMammalia writes about using her parenting philosophy as a guide to dealing with other parents who make very different choices from her.
• Homeschooling: Why Not? — Kerry at City Kids Homeschooling shares how parents can often make homeschooling work for their family even if, at first glance, it may seem daunting.
• If You Can’t Say Something Nice… — Deb Chitwood at Living Montessori Now tells her philosophy for online and offline interactions … a philosophy based primarily on a children’s movie.
• Different Rules for Different Families — Mandy at Living Peacefully with Children discusses how differences between families affect our children, and how that can be a good thing.
• Respectful Interaction With Other Parents — Luschka at Diary of a First Child shares the ways she surrounds herself with a like-minded support network, so that she can gently advocate in her dealings with those whose opinions on parenting differ vastly from her own.
• Parenting as a mirror — Rather than discrediting others' parenting styles, Kate Wicker discusses why she tries to focus on doing right rather than being right — and why she’s also not afraid to show others that she’s a heartfelt but imperfect mama just trying to be the best mom for her family.
• The One Thing {Most} Parents Have In Common: They Try Their Best — Christine at African Babies Don't Cry finds interacting with other parents easier once she accepts that they are all just trying their best, just like her.
• Finding your mama-groove: 5 ways to eliminate judge/be judged metality — MudpieMama reveals 5 ways of thinking that have helped her find her mama-groove and better navigate tricky parenting discussions.
• Speaking Up For Those Who Can't — We've all had those moments when someone said something hurtful or insensitive, or downright rude that just shocks you to your core, and you're stunned into silence. Afterwards, you go home and think "Gosh, I wish I said…" This post by Arpita at Up Down, And Natural is for all the breastfeeding mamas who have thought "Gosh, I wish I said…"
• Thank you for your opinion — Gaby at Tmuffin shares her go-to comment when she feels like others are judging her parenting style.
• Mending — A playground conversation about jeans veers off course until a little mending by Kenna at Million Tiny Things is needed.
• The Thing You Don't Know — Kelly at Becoming Crunchy talks about what she believes is one of the most important things you can consider when it comes to compassionate communication with other parents.
• 3 Tips for Interacting with Other Parents Respectfully When You Disagree with Them — Charise at I Thought I Knew Mama shares what she has learned about respectful interactions on her parenting journey.
• Peacefully Keeping My Cool: Quotes from Ana — How do you keep your cool? Ana from Pandamoly shares some of her favorite retorts and conversation starters when her Parenting Ethos comes into question.
• Kind Matters — Carrie at Love Notes Mama discusses how she strives to be the type of person she'd want to meet.
• Doing it my way but respecting your highway. — Terri from Child of the Nature Isle is determined to walk with her family on the road less travelled whether you like it or not!
• Saying "I'm Right and You're Wrong" Seldom Does Much To Improve Your Cause... — Kat at Loving {Almost} Every Moment writes about how living by example motivates her actions and interactions with others.
• Have another kid and you won't care — Cassie of There's a Pickle in My Life, after having her second child, knows exactly how to respond to opposing advice.
• Ten Tips to Communicate Respectfully, Even When You Disagree — What if disagreements with our partners, our children or even complete strangers ultimately led to more harmony and deeper connections? They can! Dionna at Code Name: Mama shares ten tips to strengthen our relationships in the midst of conflict.
• A Little Light Conversation — Zoie at TouchstoneZ explains why respect needs to be given to every parent unconditionally.
• Why I used to hide the formula box — Laura at Pug in the Kitchen finally talks about how judgement between parents changed her views on how she handles differences in parenting.
• Assumptions — Nada at minimomist discusses how not everyone is able to nurse, physically, mentally, or emotionally.
• Shushing Your Inner Judgey McJudgerson — Jenn at Monkey Butt Junction knows that judging others is easy to do, but recognizing that we all parent from different perspectives takes work.
• Respectfully Interacting with Others Online — Lani at Boobie Time Blog discusses the importance of remaining respectful behind the disguise of the internet.
• Presumption of Good Will — Why — and how — Crunchy Con Mommy is going to try to assume the best of people she disagrees with on important issues.
• Being Gracious with Parenting Advice — Tips for giving and receiving parenting advice with grace from Lisa at My World Edenwild.
• Explain, Smile, Escape — Don't know what to do when you're confronted by another parent who disagrees with you? Amy at Anktangle shares a story from her life along with a helpful method for navigating these types of tricky situations (complete with a handy flow chart!).
• Balancing Cultures and Choices — Dulce de leche discusses the challenges of walking the tightrope between generations while balancing cultural and family ties.
• Linky - Parenting Peacefully with Social Media — Hannabert's Mom discusses parenting in a social media world.

Mama's home!

So after my last post and a couple of comments (all of which I deeply appreciated - they touched my soul), I saw the light. I realised I could ask for what I needed, which was to escape. I asked in love. Mr Dreaming Aloud knew where I was at, knew I wasn't doing a runner on him, and released me with love.

And so I got online, found some wonderful places to retreat - if it wasn't the night before, during the Xmas hols... and so I was left with no final destination.

So I headed for one of my favourite places in the world - West Cork. There is a line that I pass, about 10 miles West of Cork city, where the landscape shifts gears, and opens up, and I go ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I feel like I have crossed a kind of time and date line, into a different land, both internally and externally.

So I drove to a beautiful castle overlooking Kinsale bay.

Image: tripadvisor.ie

It was stormy, wind and rain, my tears were appropriate to the day. I sobbed and felt lost. And there, walking past my car, just as I had done on precious times before, were parents walking with their little children. And my heart strings went. That's what I wanted. You weren't expecting that dear reader, and nor was I. So I drove back past the hotels, past the colourful craft shops and galleries, past the little cafes. I didn't want to eat out, I didn't want a strange bed, I didn't want to be alone with myself. I wanted home and my children, and my husband, and my bed, and my friends. I missed my baby, I was sad that she would be sad about not feeding. I realised that although I may want to escape from being a mama, I was a mama deep in my soul. something deep had shifted, unseen, these past few years. I just hadn't had the space to really feel it, to touch it, and so I doubted it was there.

As I was pondering, whether to wimp out and turn around, a friend called to finalise lunch plans, not knowing that I did not know about them, nor that I was over an hour away.

And so I turned my (sister's) car around and headed for the little fishing village next to ours. And there round a table were some of my dearest friends in the world, a spread of home-cooked food, a baby reaching out to me - mama, milkie!

I sat down, late, unannounced and burst into tears. And being true friends, not an eyebrow was raised, not a comment made. My plate was filled - I fed my baby and ate my dinner. And then we talked and laughed and our children played and our menfolk played Scrabble.

Then I had an early night, baby curled in one side of me and my son the other side.

Mama's home!


p.s. Let it be known that I felt a total wuss chickening out on two precious days alone time,and know that many of my mama readers are yearning for that right now and are probably hurling rocks at me through my computer screen. I just knew that I was getting anxious and needed to be somewhere familiar. So I am taking a 6 hour creative retreat here at the Tea house (and cafe) today, then a late lunch with other dear friends. And I have special retreat places on my to-do list for later in the year once baba is weaned and I am not feeling anxious.

The confessions of a domesticated wild woman

As we head into a New Year, my soul is calling to be free. I am so sick and tired. Literally and metaphorically. Tired, tired, tired of the complications of emotional relationships on every level. Tired of family. This Christmas season has been fraught in just about every family relationship I have, and I am SO done with it. All I want is simple - no feelings, no misinterpretations, no needs made of me, no demands or requirements. I am fit to run from home and hide in a cabin in the wild woods of Alaska.

May I add as a side note that I am not overdoing it with work, nor with house or social commitments. But even the little I am doing is too much. I feel the New Year hovering and with it big new work, new creations to be gestated, others to be delivered. I feel the need to clear and cleanse myself in a way I never have before.

This is not easy as a mama of three little ones. Especially one who wakes throughout the night and does not want to be weaned. And another who demands me to do everything.

It's all just TOO full on in our little world right now - I just need an emotional detox from everything I can and to step back all requirements made on me that I can. I want to dive into my creative life head first.

And so, with those that understand, I am asking for space. Little kiddies do not, it must be said, understand. So I shall have to do my best. Though in reality I despair of the mother I have become to them. I cannot even justify it many days as "doing my best". The truth is that I am here. And that must be enough. I am coming to a rather late conclusion that I am not great long-term mother material. And that does make me feel sad. My creative spirit calls me. I try to keep my heart with my kiddies, not to burn too many bridges. But the call is loud and strong. And I am aware that I am kindling the flames of mother-hate within them, flames that will be fanned by the winds of age and independence.

The voice of the wild calls. I want to be free. The louder it calls, the stronger I feel my weakness as a partner, a mother. My gaping lack of ability. I want to run away, to fly to a far distant land, to be free of my captivity, my drudgery, from this life I have so willingly chosen for myself, from this domestic bliss I have so carefully constructed, piece by piece. It feels like shackles to my soul. It chafes and confines. I long to be free. Just me. Pure, and free. Me and the wind and the moon and the trees, and my trusty pen. Free. How that word sings. I long for freedom. Can taste it like the memory of ice cream eaten on an exotic beach. Everything about my life as a mother is far from free. My day is wound carefully around the needs of others.

I feel like a domesticated wild woman. So often I just want to run. I don't belong here pairing socks and making pancakes, wiping bottoms and lulling fractious children to sleep. I want to be off, wild and free, with  no one to answer to, to be nice, polite to, to make a nutritious meal, carefully cut up for. I wish to wake when I want, and sleep when I want. Alone.

I want to write all day, then to sit and watch the fire and eat chocolate and drink to much wine, then walk in the woods by moonlight, before curling up alone in a warm bed with a book that makes my soul soar before going to sleep for a night full of uninterrupted sleep.

Beware the troll!

Who's that trip trapping over my bridge?

Well bugger off! I'm too tired to eat you.

I feel as much like Christmas as... I'm too tired for metaphors. Is it just extreme tiredness, two migraines in a week and a deaf right ear, or is it getting older that makes me so unenthused about Xmas this year? I can see it out there - but I don't feel it. At all. And I feel bad for my kiddies. I feel bad for us all, because we had such a wash out of a Christmas last year because of sickness, so I've been looking forward to making up for it all year. And now I'm not.

Everyone's cranky. Me most so. Girlies were out of sorts all last week - tantrums and wakeful nights all round. Mr Dreaming Aloud can be quoted as saying "the novelty of having little kids is wearing mighty thin".

I am in full agreement.

A little secret for you - last week's Joy Pockets were written the Friday before - the last time I felt, what's it called? - oh yes - joy - at being a mama.

I know I get like this when I'm super-mega-tired. I know I get like this when I'm sick. I know I get like this when I've had to be touching a baby every second of the night otherwise she wakes up. I know I get like this when I'm at a critical part of a project and just want to concentrate on it. I know I get like this because my life is ordered in its totality around my kids and I am angry that Mr Dreaming Aloud's isn't in the same way.

Bah humbug.

Count your calories! ... but not the way you might think

So this is The Year of Enough...
Last week's "homework" was to make a list of everything you do in a day.

So you wrote everything down, right.

Or did you?

Have a little look over your list. Did you put in all the emotional stuff that you did that day? Chances are you forgot it... because "it doesn't count" right? It doesn't count in the real world, it doesn't make you any money... but it DOES count because it takes your life energy just as much, if not more!

So look over your list and write down every major emotional interaction you had too, so

• Comforting a sad child
• Dealing with a tantrum or argument
• Consoling a distraught friend
• Helping your sister with her financial worries
• Worrying about a major life change
• Having an altercation with a man in a car park
• Having some couple time with your partner

Positive or negative it's all your energy which is being used.

And don't forget "passive" activities, such as commuting, talking on the phone, even watching TV... And minding kids for a day or be in work is worth 100 basic points before you add in the specifics!

So now you have your full list of where your energy went in one day. 

Now to "count your calories"

Just like in a diet program you count your calories (energy parcels) to see how much you're taking in. In this exercise you are counting your energy parcels that you are giving out. (Please note these are not actual calories - I am just using the term to make you aware of the energy impact of your day.)

The scoring system

Any action - emotional or physical which lasted 30 mins or less in your day = 50 calories 

Any action which took particular 

• concentration, 
• stress or 
• took over 30 mins receives double points= 100 calories 

Add 250 calories for each of the following

• have a full time job (including being a full time mother), 
• have a baby under 1, 
• are breastfeeding
• are pregnant or undergoing IVF
• are being woken more than twice a night, 
• have an illness or disability
• are caring for someone sick
• are a single parent, your partner is working away or working late

Any deeply stressful, once in a lifetime event - a birth, death, imminent divorce, hospitalisation, major illness or hospitalisation = 500 calories a day

So add up your points. What did you get? This is how much energy you are using in a day... (for a worked example see mine at the bottom).

As with calories, an average, sustainable day would be between 1300-2000 points, depending on your energy levels, level of support, your enjoyment of what you're doing, and a good self care regime etc.

Anywhere over 2500 is unsustainable on a regular basis - you need to get more support, simplify your daily routine, off load commitment.

Now obviously, this is totally unscientific. But if you do this for a few days you will get a sense of:

• How much energy you are using over a day. 
• Whether you are front loading it or spreading your energy use evenly over a day. 
• What events are recurring on a daily basis which you could consolidate, or avoid all together?
• Where is your energy going?
• Where is it leaking being drained?
• Where could you choose to use it differently?

In short, where does it point to you how to sustain your own energy-use levels and apply the law of Enough in your life.

I'd love to hear your responses...

Example: My day's total was: 2250

• 250 -have a full time job (including being a full time mother)
• 250 -are breastfeeding
• 250 -are being woken more than twice a night, 
• 250- baby with a cold
• 50 -Car journeying

• 50 -Filled out my 75 things I want to do in 2012
• 50 -Did a high speed local grocery shop
• 50- Made all three kids breakfast and minded three all day
• 50- Checked my email and wrote some
• 50-Finished and promoted my blog post for Dreaming Aloud, and another blog
• 50-Did JUNO correspondence
• 50- Created a dinosaur scrap book with Timmy using Google images
• 50-Got the kids to help me tidy their room
• 50-Played musical statues with them
• 50- Got us all dressed
• 50-Fed the chickens and Fed us all lunch
• 50-Emptied and filled the dishwasher
• 50-Did a little house tidying
• 50-Got three kids out of the house with shoes, coats and snacks
• 50-Recycled 7 bags of clothes
• 50-Took Meli to the nurse
• 50-Got clay from the pottery - made a labyrinth and a sculpture
• 50-Checked emails and Facebook - helped promote a friend's event
• 100-Made supper for all tonight and for tomorrow
• 50- Brought in yesterdays washing and hung up in side
• 100 -Kids bedtime
• 50-TV and Wrote my list!

We are one

Lying with my girl as she falls asleep. Her brother curled up behind me. The room is dark. She has been kicking and screaming and butting heads with her Dada- literally and metaphorically. In the darkness I cannot see where I stop and she begins. I hear breathing, the rise and fall of inspiration - hers, mine his, I cannot tell. I feel the warm rise and fall of chests, the thud of hearts. I feel limbs, but which is hers, his and which mine?

Does it matter?

For a few moments we are as one. A multi-limbed organism. We are alive. Each of our bodies, so distinctive by daylight, is indistinguishable right now. The things that you would use to class us are dimmed to non existence in this light. We are one and the same. Truly, there is no difference.

And then it occurs to me that I could be lying here with Gaddafi, the Dalai Lama, Sarah Palin, Johnny Depp even (ohhh this post might start going in a very different direction any moment, me Johnny, a dark room!!...). I could be lying with people whom I fear or respect, whom I love or hate, and we would be equals - we really, truly are all the same, equal in our biology, in our humanity, our personalities which dominate and separate us in the daylight world are invisible, immeasurable really. And yet it is on them which we focus: he believes this, she thinks that, he said... we are completely divided by the only thing which can divide us - our superficialities, rather than united by all we share.

For a moment I viscerally experienced the oneness. One breath, one body, one heartbeat, one life, one love.

Home is where the feelings are

It occured to me last night as our daughter, who is calm and quiet outside of our house wailed and screamed and yelled and kicked that she does it at home because she feels safe here.

An email from a friend who is keeping a happy face to cover a breaking heart admits to bawling her eyes out at home for days at a time.

Home is the only place I yell. I wouldn't dare to yell on the street. And I feel guilty that it is my nearest and dearest who see the majority of my negativity and intense emotions.

I find myself almost running for cover at times, trying to hold it together until I get home, until I can let go, collapse the social face and just be as I need to be.

And I got a sense of all of us, all around the world, discharging our depth and breadth of human emotions within our homes - making love, yelling, crying, celebrating small and big triumphs, mourning, freaking out, worrying. All the human stuff that human society has no stomach for and that the world of work and socialising has no time for. All the sides of us that go on unseen, that we have to watch in the movies, or have friends confide in us their own experiences, to know that we are not alone. If you based your knowledge of what it means to be human on what you see with your own eyes away from TV, then sex would not exists. Nor would hysterical crying. Orgasms and anxiety attacks also would not exist. Life is bland stream of bored, polite, fake smiling faces when seen in public. Home is where the richness is, home is where the heart is free to feel.

And it occured to me that we are sold an idea of home, as a place that looks good, or that provides a place to eat and sleep. But far more, home provides us with a safe space to be fully human, to feel, to learn to express these feelings. That the walls of our homes are charged with this human emotion, layer upon layer of our unseeable selves lies invisibly on top of the wallpaper or paint. This repository of ourselves within a space is what makes us so deeply attached to our spaces, which makes them so much more than mere bricks and mortar, or canny investments.

A Pain in the Brain

This week (September 4th) is Migraine Awareness Week. So to celebrate Dreaming Aloud decided to get one herself to show solidarity with the 1 in 7 sufferers in the UK!


I suffered with migraine every couple of weeks from my late teens to mid twenties. The birth of my first child seemed to settle them down and I only got one every six months or so, which was a blessed relief. But the emergence of two more kiddies in quick succession who don't like to sleep much at night equal a mega resurgence of migraines. 


What is migraine? 
First things first, it is NOT just a bad headache. That's like calling a bad cold the flu. They are different in severity and the level of disability they cause. Migraine are sometimes preceded by disturbed vision, flashing lights and geometric patterns in the visual field. It can be triggered by any number of things, including bright or flashing lights, lack of food or sleep, strong smells.Migraine is often described as one-sided, intense pulsing, throbbing, bruising feeling pain in the head.


It is usually accompanied by heightened sensitivity to light, smell and sound, as well as nausea and sometimes vomiting. In women, migraine is often tied to changes in hormonal levels preceding their period. Other triggers involve anxiety, stress, or relaxation after stress. More women than men get migraines because they are often tied to the menstrual cycle. The World Health Organization has classified migraine as one of the top 20 most disabling lifetime conditions.

So let's examine the triggers for me this week...
Family history - tick
Lack of sleep - tick
Anger/ stress - tick
Eating trigger foods such as chocolate, alcohol, especially red wine - tick
Preceding menstruation - tick
Low to moderate dehydration - tick
Anxious, shallow breathing - tick
Muscle tension in shoulders/ neck - tick
Flashing lights/ screen - tick, courtesy of The Smurf movie!
So really it was guaranteed!


According to a Yahoo article on the subject: 

"For many years, scientists thought migraines were caused by the dilation and constriction of blood vessels in the head.

But current research indicates that migraine may be caused by inherited abnormalities in genes that control certain brain activities.

Scientists hope to identify specific genes that cause migraine pain, which could pave the way for the development of drugs that could prevent or interrupt migraine.

In the UK, the neurotoxic protein Botox was licensed in 2010 by the Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency as a preventative treatment for adults with chronic migraine. However, its use in the NHS remains limited, as the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence has not yet provided formal guidance." 
http://uk.health.lifestyle.yahoo.net/migraine-awareness-week.html

DIY cures include: 
Rest in a darkened, quiet room - so easy with young children!!
A cold compress/ ice pack to the head
Pain killers 
Lavender oil
Gentle face/ neck massage
Sleep
Lots of extra fluid
Steering clear of trigger foods
Biofeedback
Meditation and concentrating on warming the hands and feet and cooling the head
Masturbation - apparently!!


Do you suffer from migraine? What helps you? And what triggers you?