Fran’s School of Hard Knocks

November 5, 2020

Keeping going

, , 2 Comments

Keeping going

For a long time now, possibly years, I’ve been toying with giving up my writing. In any event, lately, I haven’t been writing much at all, and the dismay of my paralysis has been hard to get my head round.

So I’ve tried to ignore this particular patch of desert, to pretend that lockdown and its outcomes do not affect me. Though my situation remains surprisingly similar to what it has always been, the realities of lockdown, with their peculiar mix of worry and resignation, make working on a fictional series about hard-pressed women – and men – rather hard to justify.

Do I need to justify it? Lately, there have been so many good reasons why I should stop writing: I have lots of calls on my time, from my husband, my daughter, my sisters, friends, my mother, even my daughter’s guinea-pigs; but sitting here, crafting and editing my work, I am reminded again that I do sincerely delight in this particular combination of concentration and escapism.

Even when so much of writing seems to be carried out it a private world that feels like a vacuum, how could I excuse a final decision to stop, when writing makes me smile and feel good? I also know that it is one real, tangible thing I do, that my husband sincerely supports. He wants me to keep writing. And I’ve seen how the things that contribute to our happiness and sense of fulfilment make the routines and hardships of life easier to live with. Constructing fictional worlds is the nearest I’ll ever get to time travel; or, at this time, to actual travel, which is another reason why I will be keeping going.

I’m working now on a final edit of my three novels, which though they each stand alone, also represent a series of characters whose lives may work out in so many different ways. I’m almost driven to conclude that my novels are, as they stand, only outlines, scoping out what might happen, never cast in stone.

That I’m keeping going in itself gives me reason to feel celebratory.

Thanks for reading.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

October 5, 2020

Taking a longer view

, , , 4 Comments

Taking a longer view

My mother’s health is failing. Finally, after several years of painful struggle and wishing that things could be different – I’ve not quite lost sight of the woman who was content in her domain and saw the purpose in carrying on – my mother’s light is fading.

In watching this long-drawn out process, taking a longer view, many emotions surface. And though I don’t know on any given day which will be uppermost, and which will lie dormant and sabotage me as I sleep, I know that this period of waiting will simply have to be endured, as all painful things are.

Certainly, there is regret, and a patina of peculiar relief, as we both accept the inevitable: I can’t make things better in the way she would like them to be: herself able and competent, living in France, her son alive, well, and, (in the dream she would have liked) living a happy life… I can’t put back the clock, and I’m not sure, even if I could, that it would be a wise course. Would all the things that have happened in the intervening five or so years have to happen again? I’m not sure we could cope with that.

There is comfort, as there always is, in knowing we have succeeded in coming this far together, in peace, and finally in a clearer understanding.

As a kid and a young adult, I often felt my parents to be remote, living by adult rules and logic to which I was not, nor expected to be, privy any time soon. Now, since I see Mum most days and have a hand in keeping her affairs in order, I have, I think, proved my claim to be as content, happy and competent in my own life as most of us are: my mother can relax now, knowing that, although I’ll never reach her heights of scholarship or astonishing grasp of detail, there is enough of her in me to ensure that I’ll be okay. Different, but okay.

Thanks for reading.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

September 23, 2020

Stories of Personal Courage

, , 0 Comments

Stories of Personal Courage

My friends like to share stories of personal courage with me that they have themselves read and been inspired by. And there was a time – a period covering roughly thirty years – during which I was fascinated by them, mining individual stories of personal strength for nuggets of inspiration and advice when I needed it most. Some of the accounts I have read, I have taken to heart, and they have undoubtedly played their part in keeping me sane and alive.  

Nowadays, I feel as if I have found more of my courage, and so, I simply want to live as happily as I can, one day at a time. Does this make me unsympathetic? Not at all. When I am asked a question, or spoken to, I listen, as I hope I am listened to. But I also want to live freely, untrammelled by feelings of regret or pity.

I would not, and do not, want anyone to pity me; and therefore, while I do sincerely admire people who are living examples of courage every single day, I want not so much to admire them, as to enjoy their company, share their jokes and wish them well.

All of us, whether heroine or oppressed worker bee, at heart just want to be seen for who we are: not placed on a pedestal, nor looked up to, nor discriminated against or judged unfairly as we grovel trying to pull together our dignity from way down the queue.

I want to live on the level with others. I am not a mascot for the “unfortunate”, mainly because I don’t characterise myself or others as unfortunate, nor do I have unique access to spiritual insights, wisdom or empathy. There may be times when I feel I have something I want or need to say, perhaps voicing the views of those who may find it harder to speak out or be heard; but in this, as in most things, I cherish the hope that we are all alike in campaigning for what is meaningful to us.

Are my ambitions at risk of sounding flaccid and pedestrian? Perhaps, though while I do have ambition, my stamina is not always up to par; and for me, walking on the level is an achievement in itself.

Thanks for reading.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

August 25, 2020

Knowing all this…

, , 3 Comments

Knowing all this…

Knowing all this…. Covid resurgence, climate problems, disappearing wildlife, wildfires, water shortages, riots, political shenanigans and catastrophic explosions, not to mention other issues closer to home that constantly pull me up short and make me question… Knowing all this, what am I going to do?

Am I going to watch videos fervidly late at night and worry? Am I going to scroll endlessly through mini clips exposing this disaster or that impending crisis? Look out of the window at relentless rain and wonder where the Summer went…? Or…? Can I do something positive?

My life, my choices, my peace of mind, my freedom.

I hold tight onto my choice to be purposefully kind, and to work hard despite these and other pressures that bear down on my heart. I can still help a bit, by keeping my health strong, and my mental processes tidy and clean. Just because life’s situations are sometimes messy, is no reason to head straight for the swamp and drown in it.

All change, or betterment to any degree, starts with me, right now.

So that signals the end of obsessive anything, of endless checking, clicking, scanning the horizon and fretting. Instead, I’ll go for a walk in the fresh morning or as evening light fades. Instead, I’ll eat well, take a rest when I need to, and chat with my friends on the phone or over a cup of socially distanced tea. There is always plenty to do, and when that is finished for the day, I can read a cheerful book, watch a funny movie, have a laugh with my family.

When I look back at this unsettling time of change, I want to know that I worked hard and did my best. And in that, there is precious little space for wasted time or regret.

Thanks for reading.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

August 17, 2020

Taking refuge

, , , 0 Comments

Taking refuge

In the process of growing up and getting older, have I been taking refuge behind unhealthy behaviours? In a household which was unusual, it comes as no surprise that I must have learned some very odd coping habits. And of course, I would unthinkingly accept what I saw around me, adapt to it and adopt it as mine too. Odd, that we adopt dysfunctional behaviour in order to fit in, when dysfunction makes true co-operation non-existent or at best, reluctant.

And so in the cause of adapting to what I have seen and felt, I have become too often, and painfully, bad tempered, perfectionist, judgemental, and I have spent a great deal of thought and mental energy in “fixing things”: keeping people happy, not rocking the boat, both appeasing and enabling bad behaviour, even while I was totally unaware of doing any of that.

In the process of realising all this, I’m having to recalibrate a lot of things I thought I understood. I’m having to take fresh responsibility for being too quick to be offended, for being sharp with judgements, and being impatient. None of what we get through in daily life matters so much that it should make us unhappy, and since bad behaviour alienates people, it’s no wonder I’ve felt too often alone and beleaguered.

But it’s never too late to start again. It’s taken me a long time to get to this point, and I’m glad I have, finally reaching a place from which I can work constructively. Painful as it may be, understanding my part in keeping difficult things going, and choosing now to work and behave differently, brings rewards I could previously only dream of, and a kind of peace and resolution that I feel as if I’ve been searching for all my life.

Thanks for listening.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

August 3, 2020

A Great Falsehood

, , , 2 Comments

A Great Falsehood

I know, now, that there is no necessary connection between having an impairment and being unhappy.

That such a great falsehood was allowed to be planted and to grow inside me for decades, occasionally leaves me feeling quite devastated. Every revelation has its downside; and while I now feel uplifted and energised by the liberation that comes with recognising this lie for what it is, I can’t escape knowing that I’ve wasted acres of time and energy trying to rationalise, and then escape from, the deeply rooted assumption I held to, that impairment and unhappiness were bound to twist together.

Paralysing childhood reasoning is much easier to dismantle and let go of, when we are allowed to talk it through and can be offered reassurance and a wider perspective. Goodness knows, we all have challenges to deal with. And we don’t all devise a twisted logic to try and make sense of the impossible.

Only now do I see, that I could have been very much happier if I’d had more considered and unconditional love. Though I’m very grateful for all my life lessons, even the hard ones, I’ve come a long road round to the obvious truth, that it is love that makes people happy and well adjusted, able to cope with whatever life throws at them: the kind of love that I now allow myself to feel, and that I try to offer to other people.

In so many ways I have been, and I am, incredibly lucky. And I wish I could have felt that luck and joy – that sheer sense of freedom – more often, when I was younger. I have come late to the realisation that none of our warped thinking matters. We are free, whatever our lot in life, to be relaxed, happy, calm and certain of our confidence and our achievements.

That feelings of freedom and happiness can flourish despite our challenges, is a wonderful lesson to harvest from a great deal of reflection.

Thanks for listening.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

July 23, 2020

Birth family dynamics

, , , , 2 Comments

Birth family dynamics

Taking time in lockdown to browse through on-line videos on self-help, I listen, learn and recalibrate a lot of what I thought I understood. My understanding of many of my birth family dynamics changes, firming up, and offering new perspectives that bring me up short, as I ask myself a host of questions which will probably remain unanswered.  

Some answers I do have, however. And this process of reflection is very welcome, as finally I can feel myself standing up straighter and coming out from under a lot of pointless habits, such as needless introspection – Wow! It was never about me after all, there never was anything I could have done to change that – worrying, and overthinking around painful subjects – What might I have done differently? Turns out, not much.

This process of setting to rights and starting again is often painful: I’m having to review most of what I previously thought I had understood about “what happened” and reconsider events in a very different light, as having much less to do with my conduct or perceived failings than I had assumed. Coming to terms with a lot of wasted time and wasted regrets – there was no shape I could have twisted myself into that would have made any difference, after all – has been stark. A process of uplifting liberation from the old narratives also leaves me feeling quietly appalled.  

Children accept what is reflected back at them and assume it is inevitable. So, my childish realisation that my parents both had difficulty accepting my particular suite of impairments was part of the juvenile understandings I collected about life in general and me in particular: “I’m obviously impaired, therefore I’m unhappy, obviously…” As youngsters, we take on board a great many mixed messages, then spend years trying to contort ourselves to make sense of them. So I took for granted an assumption about my world, that I now recon is the Great Falsehood.

To be continued.

Thanks for listening.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

July 9, 2020

Tools of time management

, , 0 Comments

Tools of time management.

Since I work for myself, I have to be both my own organiser and the one who gets things done. I have to be the one who says what goes, and who does what she’s told. And lately – in fact, for far too long – I’ve been prevaricating and feeling a bit lost, because I have not understood that both roles have different purposes, and both roles are essential.

So, instead of actively using tools of time management and organising my time – accepting the role of organiser – I’ve been hiding in books and in details. It’s very easy, in a lockdown situation to hide from the realisation that I’ve been stalling. I’ve needed someone to tell me what to do. But – Ha! – that is my job. So….?

So I have to be the one who sets up my own timetable. This very quickly gives my weeks a structure that enables me to allocate different times to certain allotted tasks. Having committed the time in advance, I do not then find myself thinking endlessly about all those other tasks which still have to be done and which are less than thrilling: shopping, laundry, meal prep…

With the help of a timetable, routine jobs are given their allocated time, before which I am allowed to accumulate a small pile of things that will be dealt with then. So I can stop thinking about them. That way, I free up loads of space and crucial mental energy for many of the things I prefer to do, deploying timetabling so that I can say, “Sorry, I’m busy at the moment…” and mean it.

Having even the rudiments of a timetable is as important to tell us what we can leave doing until later, as for reminding us what we can do now.

Thanks for reading.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

May 26, 2020

What I do in lockdown

, , 4 Comments

What I do in lockdown

What I do in lockdown has altered my views so that all my workaday and long-held assumptions are being challenged.

I’m sure that, six months ago, if I’d said I would prioritise hoovering on Mondays, and washing sheets, taking out the recycling, remembering to place gardening bins on the kerb just to give me something to do of a weekday morning, I would have guffawed loudly. That, I would have opined, would have been as likely as my daughter settling down to do jigsaws, which hitherto she has scorned.

Yet, in the last few weeks, both Seline and I have completed about seven or eight jigsaws each, with no complaint and a great deal of enthusiasm.

Instead of complaining about domesticity, I now thank my lucky stars when I can visit the supermarket, am grateful there is food on the shelves, and shop conservatively, mindful of the twin injunctions to shop as infrequently as possible, but without hoarding. I’m grateful too, for daily acts of heroism from those who keep turning up for work in hospitals, schools and shops, fearful, perhaps, of becoming unwell, but also grateful to have gainful – and such useful! – employment.

One of the good things to have come out of this current situation is the recognition, finally, that the “small” occupations many people have, are vital for all of us. The recognition that ordinary people, going about their usual jobs, are really important to the continuing function of their communities; that to be relied upon, as a teacher, a medical technician or a parent must be, is a useful, indeed one of the best, ways to contribute meaningfully.

Whatever else I may learn, the restraints currently imposed on us have taught me, finally, what it truly means to perform routine tasks willingly and with a peaceful heart. So many of us have to take risks that I am not, nor ever have been, called upon to take. And I am grateful to them.

Thanks for reading.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

April 30, 2020

A different world

, , 4 Comments

A Different World

Lockdown has brought with it the realisation that, for all our privileged existence, there are aspects of the way we live that we must change, if we are to continue having any quality of life. Though they present major challenges, the current restrictions also offer un-looked for opportunities to consider that a different world is possible.

I don’t find that the lockdown restrictions so far imposed have yet changed my daily routines or expectations radically; except perhaps to bring with them the beneficial awareness that yes, I can go for walks, and so I should make the most of that. Because I am only allowed to venture out once a day – though again, that is not such a change from my usual limitations – I find myself rejoicing when I do: official restrictions have made me very grateful and appreciative of the freedoms I enjoy.

Perhaps we will all have to re-frame or curb our notions of what we have grown used to, but the end result is that we are usually more appreciative of what we have.

The season, and the weather, are especially lovely at the moment, the routes are calm and quiet, and I can hear loud birdsong in the bushes that, un-tended, have been left to flourish. They are that shade of almost painfully bright, light green that makes me breathless.

Robins chirping loudly, blackbirds flitting and warbling, song thrushes trilling, do remind me what an invasion our usual motor vehicle noise is. The fresh green grass and the bright and blue skies unmarked by vapour trails remind me, too, that we must find ways to share the world so as not to destroy it.

We can do this, and we must. So I’m grateful for what I have and look forward to a quieter, more equitable way of living when lockdown restrictions are eased.

Thanks for reading.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr
«‹ 2 3 4 5›»