CHANGE NOW OR FOREVER WISH YOU HAD

It's nearly time to leave  Conwy behind.  I will be moving to Cornwall and am so looking forward to it. Being near to my daughter, son in law and granddaughters. My little family.
 They say that selling a house,  separating from someone and losing someone you love, are at the top of the list of most stressful things we can do.
I think losing someone you love to death is the most horrendous of all,  one can grow to live with this loss over time but not so easy to recover from. However selling a house with all it involves, and the behaviour of some buyers leaves one disillusioned with human nature.
Splitting up with a husband or wife is  a loss, even if you are the one making the decision to leave. This choice is a difficult one because there is so much to lose. A home, possessions, even pets have to be in the mix. Having someone there and not being alone can keep us from going through with the it. When one first makes this life changing decision it is about personalities, disagreements and anger, but as time passes it is like ridding a roller coaster,  hanging upside down supported only by a 'strength of will' safety belt.
Looking beyond the emotional disruption and physical work involved in packing and clearing out makes the process therapeutic. Clearing, sorting and decision making about  what to keep or let go is cleansing. I have gone through the worst of it now just waiting for D day to complete the process.
When it started I thought I wouldn't make it, giving in and giving up to the way things were, but here I am almost at the end, gone through the ordeal of living in the same house and holding onto the future as I hope it will be.  It means starting again at 70 years old but I have started again so often and in so many ways I am offay with what needs to be done when I get to where I am going.
Karma and what my lesson in life is,  was why I began to write but I have strayed a little from that idea. I am  happy in  the knowledge that one can do anything, but not always easily. 
Change can be frightening but it is cleansing.  I know that if I don't do it now in six months time I will wish I had. Even though the future looks uncertain, and I feel somewhat insecure I know it will be OK.
What have I learned in all of this?
That I am still learning.

THIS DIFFICULT TIME WILL PASS WON'T IT?

'Life is a roller coast and ya just gotta ride it' the words from a well known song by Ronan Keating. Poignant  and significant for me or anyone else who is in the throws of one of life's many hurdles right now. How do we get through these times that seem so distressing and painful? When we are in the sinking sand do we struggle and sink further or do we just wait until something or someone happens along and helps us out? What do you say to yourself at these times?

Generally at difficult moments in my life I try to look past them, beyond the difficulty, to a time when it will be over. Does it help? Not sure, but it does get me to see into the future when the trauma will be over and I will be back on track with day to day doings. If a hurdles takes weeks to climb then  that coping mechanism doesn't always work, I just have to find various ways to manage. Some people can cut off  emotionally, sadly for me that isn't easy. I envy those with the ability to disassociate from distress however my levels of anxiety stay in the digestive system. That constant butterfly churning   that stays in  awareness, never letting up until the worst is over.
It is like walking on shifting sand, worried about each step taken towards the finishing line.

Does worry and stress really take it's toll on us? There are differing views.
Stress is the reaction to any change that requires upheaval or adjustment in life. It is the body's reaction to change, mental, physical and emotional. It is an everyday occurrence but sometimes it is bigger than normal and requires us to make life changing decisions.
Stress is a normal part of life in daily moderation. Many things go on around us and many things we do to ourselves, like making huge changes in circumstances, maybe biting off more than we thought we could chew. Sometimes we are just confronted with outside forces we have no control over .

Somatisation is a when we experience a physical illness in response to stress. When we hold the emotional consequences of what is going on in life within ourselves expressing it through  physical symptoms. Stress without relief leads to distress which in turn leads to ill health. If one already has a physical problem like a bad back, or migraines, or heart condition  then the stress manifests itself in this vulnerable part of the body. Blood pressure, chest pain, sleeplessness all can worsen an already chronic condition.

How do you deal with stress?
Even though I keep telling myself it will pass soon, I am fighting with myself not to make these necessary changes to my life, which would relieve one aspect of the trauma but then I would be left with what I started out with and later regret not making the all important life changing decision.
I meditate and although throughout I might have to keep pushing negative thoughts to one side it does help calm my internal responses to a minimum for a time,
Walking with my dog sometimes helps, and talking to someone is comforting however in the end we have to deal with what is the reality of the situation don't we.
We make choices as to what happens to us in life and so if we stay static and avoid these life issues do we avoid stress?
Sadly it doesn't seem to be like that for me, I have learned to get over many things in my life but I am realising that with age comes a higher level of anxiety. I also know I cannot sit on my hands and wait for life to happen to me I must take charge of the bits I can change whilst living with the bits I cannot.

I 'Vant' to Be Alone

I have reached the age of 70 and  decided that I 'vant to be alone' like Greta Garbo, the old  movie star, who dramatically uttered the famous words whenever she felt overwhelmed by the demands of others.
I too want to be alone,  not isolated, merely living with myself in harmony, if that is possible.
I never really wanted  nor expected to be alone, indeed feared it as I have grown older. However now see it as a form of sanctuary.

When we go into a life time relationship with someone, perhaps we have to give up something of ourselves in order to live together? For example when you care deeply for another person isn't there an element of anticipating the other's needs? Recognising when they are having difficulties with health or emotional upsets, supporting and helping them through tough times.  Maybe my post war generation  was raised with  some Victorian values towards marriage.

In a strong marriage a couple become a partnership, best friends, giving each other security in so many ways. Each brings love and shared intimacy and acceptance of the other's foibles, needs and desires. Generally they have similar values about family and life in general.

It takes time to develop this process generally based upon a deep understanding of one another. Gradually becoming the foundations for the future.
You may not agree,  perhaps you believe that living in harmony means keeping your own council, looking after yourself and only giving what is asked for at any given time. This does not allow for symbiosis and sadly one half of the relationship might  be looking after oneself whilst the other is trying to keep the relationship alive. The cause of so many breakups.

When a healthy symbiosis is formed it means interdependence, interaction, co-operation and trust. With care this process ebbs and flows between the two. However when one or all of these processes fall down surely the partnership will  slowly disintegrate.

Many of those I have worked with as a therapist blame the breakup of their partnership on loss of trust. 'I no longer trust that s/he will be there if and when I need him/her' is very familiar. Not just trust in being true to the relationship but trusting that one can rely on the other in various times in life with family and illness etc.  Trust is implicit in any partnership but if that trust is broken then the foundations of the relationship become shifting sand. To trust your other half, means to have faith and a belief of the others commitment to the relationship. It means an expectation of each other, a reliance and confidence in the other being there. Once trust is fractured then so is the symbiosis, doubts become cracks in the walls of the relationship, questions seep in as to whether or not there is true co-operation and once lost can only be patched up, that is,  if it can  be regained at all.

I would hear one half of a partnership say, 'I don't know if I can trust her again.'
Always with the expectation that the other to fail you so grains of paranoia seep into the structure. Faith is lost in relationship which may never be regained.

I have lived alone for three years before following the death of my first husband after 30 years together. After the initial terror of being left I got used to it and some aspects enjoyed, but during that three years moments of loneliness led me towards finding someone new. That was nearly nine years ago and now, sadly I have made the mammoth decision to leave. No easy move because of course, being alone at 25 or even 55 is easier because one can be confident in ones health and general sense of well being.

However even though I recognise the pitfalls of living alone I also do not trust myself to stay for the right reasons. Maybe I expect too much from a relationship but is trust, co-operation, expectation and confidence too much to ask? Is feeling loved too much to ask?

Up to now I have not mentioned love, finding someone attractive is not love, it is the first step on a thousand mile journey of discovery. Love grows with trust and commitment that is why so many relationships last for a life time because they have found the keys to success. However there is no chance of success when one in the partnership gives love openly and willingly whilst the other takes it without much return.   Of course some people are more capable of deep warm affectionate love, whilst others are less free with the giving side which for me is the beginning of the end. Whilst one basks in the warmth of the giver the giver slowly fades away.

One can keep on giving love and affection to another but if it is not symbiotically exchanged how can one survive without becoming tired and drained of energy?

Love is a trap, but marriage is the eye opener.

After only nine years in the job of being a second wife to a second husband I have decided to call it a day. As the Americans so eloquently put it ' I am done'. It didn't happen over night, although 'him in doors' thinks it has. It's been creeping on slowly, a little bit of disharmony here and a bit of disgruntled resentment there, a great yawning lack of appreciation and warmth from him and a sense of insecurity about not feeling loved or cherished from me.
I know, we all go through it and in relationships one has to compromise and anticipate along with all the other clichés one can come up with.  'Nobodies perfect',  'it takes two to tango', and we all have our funny little ways don't we? All aimed toward reassuring myself that I have my faults and funny little ways too, and needless to say,  no one is perfect.
I am almost 70 and have been there, seen it and done it. I have been through so much in my life and know that I can compromise and work hard that I can give and take but I  also recognise when it's not working and when there is a landslide.
In my first marriage we were together a long time  and we would never have come to this, but sadly he died and left me thirteen years ago. With thirty years of marriage under our belt we had bitten the bullet so many times our teeth nearly fell out. However we stuck it through and came around to being 'together'  through most ups and downs which generally made us stronger. His terrible long illness and subsequent death at only 57 the greatest test of all which left me bereft and floundering for a long time. It is true to say that there had been times when I did feel like walking out of that marriage but the important thing is, I never did, we always seemed to work it out. Back then I know that this was a lifetime commitment to a man who had given me stability. We used to laugh about how he saw me as like a little astronaut drifting off from the space ship to explore strange new lands (he was the space ship) then  I would float back into the safe haven he offered to ground myself and fill him in on what I had been doing on this or that training course with this or that person. Always, the island he offered was sturdy and filled with solid ground but the main thing was I always knew he loved me and I him.

Perhaps older second  marriages are never easy because there has so much gone before. Each of us with our own families, children and grandchildren, each with either resentment about having a new 'step mother or step grandparent'.  Remarrying in the latter years can either be wonderful or troublesome. Not getting on with the other's children might be only a small part of it but even when resentment isn't obvious it will be there and  can be felt in the air between and not always from the children. All that aside  the newly formed twosome must be strong enough to deal with the aging process, illness and insecurities and I wonder now could it ever have worked because there was no steady ground built in years together beneath our feet. We have been living on ever shifting sand and our relationship over time has begun to sink.

I could feel lots of passing issues between us but apparently it was only me who felt that insecurity. It's strange isn't it that we only recognise issues and uncertainties from the past when the present becomes unsteady. In retrospect one can look back and see where the rungs on the ladder started to crack and coming back down the rungs has been difficult and destabilising.

'Love is a trap' my mother used to say and 'Marriage is an eye opener'
Maybe that's true but surely all  each of us wants from a long term relationship is to feel loved, cherished and cared for, especially in old age. A lot depends upon how much the other is prepared to make it work.

For a while now I haven't felt loved which is like being starved, I know because I have taken to comfort eating. I am a naturally loving and warm natured person and have become the one who is chasing love, seeking it working hard for it. Now I realise I have done what is historical for me, trying too hard to keep the other happy and in so doing given up on myself. I feel sad and disappointed it is over but I also think it is better for each  to part before we emotionally damage each other any further.

Knitting! Mind Blowing or Mindfulness Meditation?

My mother taught me to knit, like most little girls in the early fifties we were expected to learn the rudiments of domestic bliss. Cooking, sewing, any and all the post war female was responsible for. Hardly thrilling, however making a Dirndl skirt of a square of floral material with and elastic waist band.....mind blowing and a useful technique, back in the early fifties.   Boys did woodwork, girls domestic science at my small catholic school, there was little in the way of equality.

Knitting was my mother's prerogative because she enjoyed it, particularly the complexities of Fairisle. How I hated those hot prickly sweaters, so old fashioned, but I learned how to cast on and off, stocking stitch and rib whilst making little baby vests and cardigans when expecting my daughter. Almost 49 years ago. All of this returned from the recesses of my mind when a few months ago I was preparing myself for a visit to my daughter and my two little granddaughters. I wandered the shops searching for a couple of presents for them. Purely by chance, finding in a large toy store two little baskets containing knitting needles, wool and a pattern.  From this , for first time in all those years, I passed on what little knitting skills I had learned to the two of them. During my visit we took a trip to the craft shop in order to buy better quality knitting needles and wool, from which we proceeded to  create lots of little things from simple squares of stocking stitch, and rib. It was such fun and so intense because when you teach a child something like that they test your metal and you are supposed to know. Somehow I dredged what little knowledge I had to pass it on. It was a wonderful experience and I loved every minute of my stay with my darling family.

Once home I felt strangely bereft as I had no knitting to do so I ventured forth into the foreign land of my local wool shop to buy a pattern book of small knitted animals, wool and needles and off I went on a journey of discovery about myself. During my life I have generally shaken my head in wonder at the idea of others knitting and sewing. The creative aspects of  handicrafts was something I had never envisage  being involved in. Mainly because I didn't see myself as capable of the patience or temperament to 'make' something unique that only I could create.
I am a creative person because I like to paint and write but using my hands in a practical way to actually produce something was a long way from my abilities, or so I thought.

At nearly 70 years old I have found something  unique in the light tapping of knitting needles. My mind allowed to wander without worry for a while as I  concentrate deeply, counting  rows or stitches or general layout, the wool dangling from the needles growing into  whatever design of my choice. Don't get me wrong, I make lots of mistakes and have to unpick, undo, go back over and restart but words cannot describe the self soothing nature of those needles and wool. I become almost detached from the reality of the world around me.  I can think deeply about something in life or I can drift away into the medative nature of repeated knit one pearl one, thus clearing my mind of all the every day aggravations that surround me.

Sometimes the hours have passed without my even noticing. I can see that physically it is not so good to sit for hours but mentally I have found a method of meditation that sooths the inner struggles associated with the aging process. I cannot see myself tiring of this because it takes a long time to knit a jacket or a blanket of a scarf or whatever takes your fancy.

Are You Being Yourself?

I have recently joined a new group for meeting friends, women of like minds and age talking like only women can, about their lives, their loves peppered with a bit of gossip, some laughs about their other half and family  ups and downs. It doesn’t get better than that. It felt good to laugh and chat together and reach levels of closeness and intimacy that comes from being with other women. It was whilst soaking up that ambiance I became acutely aware of how freely I talked. Revealing who I was and what I had done over the last few years since retiring to North Wales. I felt relaxed as if I had known these women for years. It was so easy to show myself, my new life with my relatively new husband.  Growing old has its advantages.

As a young woman I recall how painfully shy I was. Anxious about saying too much or not saying enough and conscious of how I looked, what people thought, and always in my imagination failing to measure up to their expectations, whatever they might have been. My real self was hidden behind some need to protect from disapproval, failure, and worse still being seen as stupid. My major issue was observing ‘myself’ through the eyes of others, constantly trying to interpret another’s expectation. Exhausting! How many, I wonder have had this experience.

Now at nearly seventy years old I realise what it means to ‘be myself’ and this has been a process rather than an event.  It is about being authentic, real, spontaneous and relaxed around others. It’s about self-acceptance and feeling good-enough. It’s a time when you are no longer on trial, whether in your mind or because of another’s opinion.

So many people find it difficult to be close within friendships, carrying a fear of intimacy because of the dread of loss, fear of rejection and failure,  many trying to anticipate what others expect so that, in itself, prevents a sense of freedom.

To be true to oneself means being a leader rather than a follower, taking opportunities as they arise without fear of making mistakes or rejection.  Letting go of the idea that we need to behave, think and feel in a certain way to impress or keep in with others.

What’s important going ahead and making choices without needing constant reassurance from others and setting boundaries so that others cannot influence you into doing something you don’t want to. As I have grown older it has become obvious that being me merely means having self-value, self -respect and self-esteem. This has not happened over night, it has, of course been a gradual process and life has presented many obstacles over which I have climbed, making me into the person I have become. I am grateful to have had so many chances at being myself. I would not turn back the clock. I would not want to be young again unless as the old cliché implies, ‘if I knew then what I know now’.

 

This was first published on Gransnet.com blogs

           

THE HISTORY OF LIFETIME FRIENDSHIPS

Do you consider yourself to be a friendly person? I did until I reflected back over the working years and pondered  that I may not have been as friendly as first thought. On leaving school at fifteen which is nearly fifty five years ago I cannot remember with confidence friendships that mattered. A victim of bullying I see only those years as sticking to the other kids who were out in the cold like me.
My working life started in a factory pushed by my mother who had worked hard all her life, who believed it would be good for me.  So I went into a cigarette making factory, not ideal I suppose for a fifteen year old but I didn't smoke so it didn't bother me that everyone else did. We were given free cigarettes at the end of the week which I gave to my stepfather who seemed very happy about it. I earned good money and friendships were more about going out for a laugh and a good time on Friday night, none deep and meaningful.
Years later I became a nurse and all through  I had good friends and yet they are no where in my life today. What does that say about me I wonder?
Before I started nurse training I had trod the boards of many factories, easy back then to fall out with one job and fall into another. In some ways we were the lucky generation for work because of the rise of industry after the second world war. I moved a way to work by the sea side for a time in the hotel business as a chamber maid, but those friends have long gone.
Although friendships seemed to slip away like water through a sieve I made one friend, Joan who I considered my best friend, until she found a boyfriend, married him and moved to Australia. Was it that awful day when I waved her off which had such an impact upon me? I made the decision to not bother getting close in the future.
True friends came much later when I started to grow up a little and become more sensible throughout my nurse training days. It's strange now how I am struggling to remember my fellow student nurses and the wonderful times we had throughout our training,  I know we laughed a lot. By then I had a daughter and needed to come home at night so all the parties and the fun times were not for me in those days. Ambition became my friend and now retrospectively there wasn't much time for friendships.
It was in 1987 when I began my training in Psychotherapy I found true friends. Until then I had kept some part of me back from relationships, in training we needed to allow ourselves to become vulnerable, let others  see beneath the various masks we wear in our daily encounters.  Making oneself vulnerable means showing  true emotions, being honest and allowing others into our hidden worlds. Very frightening sometimes.
Friends made back then and onward are still my friends. I may not see all of them but I have a sense that we could call on each others as if it were yesterday.
There seems a deeper sense of connection and like-mindedness with these friends because of the sharing aspects of our training. We learned the true meaning of empathy and love and that endures in all friendships I have made since. I no longer wear a mask, or hide my true feelings and for many that can be too much. Being myself with people I meet means that some may not stay around long enough to be friends.
It is important to know yourself and be true to yourself then real friends can really get to know you and can feel free to be themselves also.

WHAT KEEPS US TOGETHER?

What keeps us together when that first flush of love begins to fade?

When we go into a long term relationship, for example marriage or partnership do we envisage the changes we will need to make to keep that relationship going?  Indeed do we even notice how we change over the years together in such intimacy? Young and in love in marriage we have to adapt to stay together to a certain degree, however without realising, one or both partners may slowly lose them-self in order to stay with the other. So many things occur within the process of life and development, work, friendships, children and money issues, to name a few which will influence how we continue. Trauma and how we deal with that together can be a test of any partnership.  

My grandma had a saying 'Love is a trap' and 'marriage is an eye opener'  another one was 'It takes ten year to get to know the person you live with.' or 'do you ever really know them?'

Of course no one takes much notice of these old sayings, when one first meets and falls in love all one can think of is how to stay together. These sayings imply that we walk into to some relationships with our eyes shut and gradually over time become shocked and hurt by the others behaviour. Maybe that is so especially in extreme cases of hurt like infidelity and abuse.

We all think that we know the person we have fallen in love with  but love does strange things and  over time we make new discoveries about this 'other half', and yet once we have found love, the very idea of losing it brings fear and uncertainty. When we fall in love we may become embroiled in the need for the other. Hiding some things from ourselves and often blatantly ignoring them in the hope that the other will change.

  How do two people learn to live together in harmony?

There has to be a certain amount of adaptation and that is good thing. This adaptation also includes compromise. Sadly however there can be an imbalance where one   half of the couple may be doing the adapting and compromising and the other failing miserably.

Imagine a happy couple where one is more prone to expressing their emotions openly whilst the other keeps emotions well and truly under wraps. How does each cope with that?  It is quite common to see each other as chalk and cheese, many couples are what might be termed as 'an unlikely match' and yet seem to rub along together quite happily so this must mean there has to acceptance, give and take and so on.  

When we first meet this other we consciously and unconsciously show our best side. Indeed very often we chose to ignore the bleeps in the other's personality, seeing little peculiarities as lovable but these little quirks in our beloved may gradually become irritating.

Should we ignore these little alarm bells or should we confront. Should we deal with things head on or should we put resentments to one side? Does not facing the problems mean we are suppressing our emotions or does it mean we are accepting of aspects of our relationship that cannot be resolved?

 I do not think there is any secret to a long term relationship I think it is a case of what each of us can deal with, how the percentages work out. Maybe if you are over fifty per cent happy then gradually the resentments can fade into the background but may keep raising an ugly head gradually swamped by resentment. If over seventy per cent happy then past transgressions can be folded away like an old blanket and put into a cupboard. I do not believe that anyone one can be one hundred per cent happy but I do know that if upsets are not faced they will keep coming back like a recurring boil that cannot be cured.

I would love to know what keeps your relationship on par, is there a secret to your relationship? I often wonder when I hear couples saying something along the lines of

‘We’ve been together for forty years and never had a cross word,’ can that really be true?

 

 

MEDITATION, A WAY TO BECOME CALM AND HAPPY

When in my forties I became more, how do I say, spiritual. Reading  books by people like the wonderful Deepak  Chopra 'Seven Spiritual Laws of Success', 'Ageless Body Timeless Mind' and more recently 'Super Brain'. 'Mindfulness Meditation' by Jon Kabat-Zinn was a nice one. This helped me on my way to regular meditation aiding me through some times of illness and despair. Meditation supported me through the horrendous time when my husband became terminally ill and his subsequent death in 2001. However,  I did, as the time passed, let my regular meditation slip.

I became busy with my work again and with a new relationship and eventual marriage. Now after ten years I have found meditation again, maybe to do with aging and emotional upheavals. Perhaps because I need to find a way of dealing with the trials of rapidly moving time pushing me ever closer to the end of my life, admittedly this could be another twenty years or so. However if one looks ahead twenty years and then back seventy, it doesn't seem very long to go.

I am not sure why I have found meditation again and needless to say it isn't as easy for me to do as it was back then. For example I cannot force my body into the lotus position anymore, my back won't stay upright and now I tend to sit on the bed with pillows. It isn't ideal, hardly the Buddhist posture I desire but now I am at least I can console myself with having the shape of a fat little Buddha. I tend to remember to meditate later in the evening and 'Om mane pad mahum' can sometimes aid me in sleep. I am using the sound of bells to time myself and I love all meditation music.

Because of it I have been sleeping better, feeling calmer and directing myself towards healing and so I persist. In many ways it is almost compulsory now but when practicing at night I have to shut out the sound of husband's clicking nose and heavy breathing. Not sure which is the least helpful, that or my own heart beat which only reminds me of the passing moments of my life. With that at least I can focus on the here and now moment to moment experience.

I am happy and adjusting to life as an older person I don't mind being called old although I don't feel as if I am. All the pressure of my working life and the hours I put in to become successful in a chosen career seem a long time gone. All those skills acquired with hours of study and perseverance mean very little now. I suppose one could see all that as a massive waste of a commodity, my generation with all our skills should be used as an important resource why has no government ever considered it I wonder? However what we contributed to society is rarely celebrated but that is another story.

ENFORCED REST, A GODSEND OR A CURSE?

 I have hurt my knee, strained a ligament or something and have to rest for anything up to three weeks. It's hell! So I am spending more time on my laptop. Time to be philosophical and maudlin I suppose. I have been thinking a lot about growing old because of this. My knee has literally had me hobbling around and for the first time in years I have to lean on someone, namely my husband. We have been through a bit of a testing process because of this, in the beginning, refusing to rest, thus him believing that I wasn't so bad. Me believing I wasn't so bad either but with my secret martyr whispering in my ear. You know the kind of thing the 'poor me' syndrome. Waiting for him to say 'let me do that love' or 'should you be doing that dear?' Sadly it doesn't happen at first mainly because I rarely ask for help therefore I don't get it when I really need it. However I am irritated by my own resentment that I generally believe I anticipate his physical needs if and when he is ill. Now after two weeks that horrible part of me is creeping back in. Why doesn't he think I might be a bit fed-up and need to be taken out somewhere, even for a coffee in the local café. He doesn't because he is waiting for me to say what I want. Is it me?  Men are very logical creatures on the whole and his belief is that I just have to sit this out and therefore shouldn't need anything because 'it's how it is'. 'It's just a case of rest and that means grin and bear it. I am obviously stir crazy because I feel irritable and angry grrrr!!!

It has been a learning curve to be sure, there are so many things one takes for granted, even walking down the hall to the loo was a hazard for the first couple of days and hubby had to push me in the office chair leaving me to scrabble my way in and out of my ablutions. Joy Oh Joy! Not being able to take the dog for a walk has been the most frustrating.  Cooking dinner at night something we usually do together, well, he peels the spuds and lays the table while I do the rest normally. I am having to instruct him on how to cook certain things. His repertoire of egg and chips or pasty and chips a bit limited or a ready made curry his speciality. Not good for someone who is starved of exercise and needing comfort food and definitely no more padding on the hips.

Growing old, and I am, is something to be feared or welcomed as it slowly engulfs me. Seeing someone I don't recognise in the mirror, walking a bit unsteadily on occasion and that was before the knee issue. Failing to remember things unless they are written down and then forgetting where I wrote them down. Frightening!
Who wants to grow old? However it's inevitable and we hear the old cliché 'it comes to us all'. Do we fear it because it brings us nearer to death or just that we become incapacitated in so many ways.
I suppose in the words of Maurice Chevalier 'old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternative' is something to ponder.
 

Age creeps up, a cliché I know but sadly it is true, as a young woman I would never have considered how it felt to be getting old and indeed why should I? Although I watched my mother age and she was ninety-four when she died as was her mother before her. I still could not imagine myself getting there. I have been blinkered with the unconscious philosophy of ‘It won’t happen to me’ apologies for yet another cliché. Aging is full of them. Past it, over the hill, doddering, what can you expect when you’re getting old, losing your marbles, deaf as a post and so on?

None of that has happened yet thank God! I can be thankful that at nearly 70 it's just my knee.

Letting Go Means Taking My Feet Off the Bottom

I want to learn to swim, at the moment I have to build up to getting into the pool and wade about a bit before pushing off in the water with my bottom down and feet only inches from the floor. However that in itself is a big move as a few years ago I couldn't take my feet off the bottom at all. Now at pushing 70 I am still struggling with the urge to learn how to swim correctly. Last week I had a couple of lessons one to one. First lesson went reasonably well and I managed after a couple of years out the pool to lift off and swim a very short length. Next one not so good, she wanted to see me float star like, face down in the water. Logic tells me that I should be able to do this and once mastered swimming with my bottom high up to the surface would be a doddle, but the fear and panic is so great I just cannot master it. I knew, that she knew, this process might take more than the odd lesson she was envisaging for this old woman.
In my paranoia I believed she was now seeing me as a hopeless case,  that I was so stuck in my ways of doing this half hearted splashing about, I couldn't grasp the floating bit.
I have been trying to work out what I am afraid of, apart from drowning of course. Logic tells me that isn't going to happen. With either a swimming instructor  there or hubby, who has assured me of his support,  but sadly, and ashamed as I am to admit it, I do not trust them. Deep inside I don't think I trust anyone and the only way I can stay above the surface is to stay above.
There are those who tell me to use the buoyance aids available, but I don't trust that either. I know what your thinking that I am a hopeless case and of course that is a projection too. I have seen that there is a session at the local swimming pool for 'nervous adults' and wonder if I should give that a try? Lessons start next week for adults so that is another option.

I think that all of this is a metaphor for the way I live my life, and recently have come to realise that as I age the more independence I strive to be. If I am ill it is very hard for me to ask for help and if I don't then those around me see me as not needing anything.
As a child I made a decision that the adults in my life, my family, were not OK and could not be trusted to look after me. There was always turmoil in the household and I felt a permanent sense of anxiety. In retrospect it felt like stage fright on a constant level. Whenever something new had to be faced I would tell my mum that I felt sick, mainly because I didn't know how to describe it. That nausea was a physical manifestation of my deep rooted fear. There were so many things went on as a child that were frightening I learned to stand it and tell no one. Violence at home, bullying in school and an inner isolation which manifested as standoffishness.
Knowing all of this does not help me swim or let go in the water and I wonder if after years as a therapist, and all the personal therapy I underwent, will I ever even trust myself to let go, giving up what I perceive to be complete control. I suspect that if and when I do, then swimming will be easy peasy lemon squeezy.

PROBLEM, WHAT PROBLEM?

Once again awake at the crack of dawn, maybe it's because the sun is shinning through that wonderful misty maze we see when we live by the sea. Maybe it's just that my mind is full of ideas that I never seem to have the time to develop. I feel tired but my butterfly thoughts combined with best beloved husband's clicking sound which emanates  from somewhere at the back of his throat as he sleeps the sleep of a baby. I regularly toss and turn  like some demented sociopath thinking of ways to shut him up. Of course psychosis can slip above the parapet of normality in the middle of the night, many murders are committed in the dead of night aren't they? Eventually I am driven from the warmth of my bed to pull on the gown and slippers trotting down to the safety of the kitchen to make a cup of Tea and scoff a couple of digestive biscuits.

I suspect that I probably snore too and when I say to him in the bright light of day that he had snored most of the night, his chin sets and with eyes forward he stubbornly  recants 'I don't think so, I don't snore.'
Well that's alright then! I think.
He says he doesn't so then it must be true. I think not.
 'You snore and talk in your sleep all night' he says smugly now determined to hammer the nails into his denial.
If I'm honest I know he is right.
 'Does it keep you awake?' I smile retaining my cool.
'No it doesn't bother me' he smiles back with a certain pride, shaking his head as if that should be the end of the matter.
'But your clicking bothers me dear.  So that is the difference I groan.
Maybe separate bedrooms would make a difference, but that doesn't appeal either.
Even in my futile attempt to stop him from clicking his way through the night I am aware that this is a pointless argument. How does one stop oneself from having habits or funny ways that annoy others?
Maybe women are more susceptible to irritation. It has to be said that I am an irritable person, who can be impatient and intolerant at times. He never picks me up on my own irritating habits, maybe it's because I don't have any. Hmm! highly unlikely, one always likes to think of oneself as easy to live with but of course that isn't true. Moody and often sulky and thinking negatively about things in life, some days with glass half empty and only occasionally half full, probably makes me not so easy to live with. I feel like my mother at times who was highly critical and irritable a lot of the time pulling characters and celebs on the telly to bits.
'What has she done to her hair, it does nothing for her'
'Christ he's aged looks as old as God'
'Look at the size of his chin'
'With a thousand pounds worth of plastic surgery he'd be quite nice looking'
'well that outfit does nothing for her'
'A woman of forty should not have long hair'
'Those are not her own teeth'

Believe me that list is endless and shocking when I can hear myself in my mother's voice talking to the telly. I would often look at her with shocked horror but now I have become her. However the difference is, I am aware of doing it which is more than can be said about my husband's clicking nose.

Dieting, A Thousand Calories of Guilt with every Mouthful of Food

To diet or not to diet that is the question.

Today I had a revelation, and this occurred as I turned and walked back from my dog walk at 7am this morning. I had smelled the wonderful Llandudno air, watched how the sun sparkled on the sea whilst my ears absorbed the sound of bird song as they bobbed around in their daily quest to find food.
My revelation, such as it is, I was not going to spend the rest of my life dieting. Not a major thought I hear you say but to me it is a biggy. I am nearly 70 years old and think it's time to stop this constant cycle of self analysis about why I am fat. Oh yes it's true I am and I am the only one allowed to say it.

I have spent every day of my adult life waking up to the thought of 'today I must diet' and it started in my twenties probably a lot sooner than that.  When I woke up this morning I began straight away with the usual thought of, wether or not to eat breakfast, and believe me when I say that I love my breakfast even though it's a perfectly normal meal of cereal and fruit, healthy enough. I then go through the rest of the day struggling with whether this or that meal is high in calories or fattening or not right in some way. I can rarely enjoy the food because each meal carries a thousand calories worth of guilt. If I am going to enjoy a meal then I must also carry that burdon. Maybe I have never enjoyed eating although I am overwieght, because if I enjoy it then it's wrong.

I have yo yo dieted over the last 30 years or so and in the early days it could be classed as my having a serious eating disorder. Never quite anorexic, but starving myself for days on some ridiculously savage  diet. Of course when that fad had finished I would put back the weight, continuing to rebel against myself, eventually starting again a week later.

I consider myself an intelligent woman and confident in life in so many ways and yet I have never hacked this issue. I know there are guru's out there who think they have the answer and would jump on the band waggon with advice of more exercise, eat less and cut down on this and that. Believe me I have been there, seen it and done it and no one knows more about food and healthy eating than me.  My husband is tall and slim and he is a faddy eater so I have to think about our meals and want to make sure he has fruit and veg daily so thanks to him we do eat healthily. I get upset and annoyed when I see how fat people are berated by the media for eating junk food and of course, many do but I don't and know many like me who would not touch a burger or fry up with a barge pole.

So this morning on my walk I made the decision that all dieting must go, there must be a clear out of rubbish from my psychy, sweep away all forms of diet manuals from my brain, throw out the self loathing take on board more self love. Clear away thoughts of my being a bad person if I eat something nice, and good if I stick rigidly to some high fibre, low fat, sugar free, calorie counting obsessive diet.

Therefore my middle of the years resolution for 2013 is, to give up my struggle to be slim,  be happy with myself as I am and just allow myself to BE.

AN AGE OF PROGRESS?

Being born into the nineteen forties I carry a certain pride, probably because I am a product of the Second World War, where families struggled against the odds with working class values born from the war years, many families already deep in poverty. Life was filled with the days of rationing, grief and loss, whilst sons and young husbands were fighting for the future of freedom. My own family history could be presented in any reasonable historical novel, my maternal grandmother in service as a young house maid made pregnant at sixteen with the ‘master’ of the house which was the first step on a downward spiral of poverty for any girl with an illegitimate child. No such thing as social security or benefit, just something called ‘The Parish’ where rich folks condescended to give handouts to the poor.

Pre war families were resilient and unbeaten by adversity and because of that there was an insatiable drive to lift out of poverty and improve standards which we post war children inherited.  We, of course are known as the baby boomer generation, growing up at a time of dramatic social change. We were the first in Western countries, to grow up with television and perhaps seen as rebelling against religion only to return later in life. My own early experience was of a scanty catholic school upbringing, where education came secondary to religion and the wrath of the church.  I left school at fifteen, only realising what I lacked in education when it came to finding work. Many of us in those days were considered to be factory fodder and I suppose you could say we were lucky to be able to walk away from one rotten job in order to find another. My best friend was fortunate enough to have to choose between Comptometer operator training or shorthand and typing for which she would attend college. How I envied her. Girls from my background had limited choices in 1959. Sadly it was the factory for me until I discovered night classes at the local polytechnic a few years later. I think that for boys it was generally an apprenticeship, joinery, electrician, the construction industry or commercial. If you were lucky to do well in school you might be accepted into an indentured apprenticeship which meant a company insisted on parents signing an agreement pledging their son would attend work and college in order to complete the training. How many parents today could make that assurance I wonder? What happened to all those skilled trades? Indeed, what happened for us to lose those opportunities when at that time the UK was probably the leader in the Textile, mechanical and electrical engineering industry?

Working class children born pre and post war have seen massive changes, from living in small back street terraced houses with outside lavatories and a tin bath tub hanging on the back yard wall, brought in for the weekly family ablutions. Each member taking their turn, with the littlest child going first followed by the next oldest moving up the line, adults taking time later when they could ‘wash each others backs’ in private. This whole ritual happened by heating up a gas boiler to get enough hot water. There were the joys of getting dry, then snuggling into warm pyjamas in front of the fire, whilst listening to ‘Friday Night is Music Night’ on the radio. Of course the drawbacks were getting rid of the large tub of water and trying to dry up the condensation which ran down the scullery walls all of which went unnoticed by the kids.

In those days we knew no different than putting on a coat to go outside to the loo, using cut up newspaper for wiping our bottoms and taking a candle to protect against the spiders that lay in wait. Of course living conditions have vastly improved. I remember our family moving into a council house and wandering the empty rooms with wide eyes and open mouths at the sight of a white walled bathroom and inside loo, large windows letting in the sunlight, new kitchen units and hot and cold running water. We had our first television around 1956. It was a time when we children were seen and not heard and had to earn what little spending money we could. I remember getting a Saturday job at Woolworths when I was fourteen and hiding under the counter because I couldn’t add up. My first wage packet had to be handed over to my mother who gave me a pittance in spends in return.

Since the war we have born witness too numerous changes, one being ‘make peace not war’ with the onset of flower power and ban the bomb in 1960. Then in 1969 American Neil Armstrong took his first steps on the moon.  It seemed unbelievable back then but now we are blasé about such things.  A profound effect upon society was the onset of the computer coming into the home in the late 70’s early 80’s and in the early 90’s we could access the World Wide Web with its capacity to seek out information freely, with a gateway to knowledge that would have been difficult to find previously. We have made the transition from a telephone box at the end of the street to the digital age and the first mobiles. When I had my first computer surfing the net was something I thought happened at the seaside and email terrified me. At nineteen I had learned to type on a very old type writer with a Pitman’s, ‘Teach Yourself Shorthand and Typing’ manual, eventually branching out to a new typewriter followed by the magical word processor. Now it’s impossible to imagine my life without my lap top the internet and broadband.

I really want to say Ah! Progress, I really do salute you whilst acknowledging the wondrous strides within the last fifty years but in terms of unemployment how can we embrace progress when we now have over a million young people falling off the edge of education into the wasteland of benefits.

 

 

First published in the North Wales Weekly News 2012

 

'WASTE NOT WANT NOT'

It has been suggested that the older generation don’t know much about ‘Being Green’, thus accused of having been uncaring towards our environment and unconcerned about future generations. It has to be said that as a young woman I did not know much about conservation, certainly ignorant about the Ozone layer and its effect on our environment.  I can’t remember my mother using sun cream in order to protect my skin but she was a great one for ponds cream to avert wrinkles. My husband remembers his mother applying Nivea before he went out in to the sun, not sure if it worked but it sounds sensible.

The older generation did not really know about so called healthy eating which we now hear protects us against strokes, heart attacks and diabetes. We had little or no idea about the dangers from alcohol it was part of our social life to get together in the local pub for a drink at weekends.  Smoking was a way of life and most of our parents had been encouraged to do so during the war when free cigarettes were given in food parcels to our soldiers.  In the fifties it was seen to be very cool to smoke.

In the main we ate hearty meals of meat and two veg, with a stodgy pud to follow.  Any fruit was usually seasonal and considered a great treat. Vegetables were generally grown locally seasonal.  Britain did not import expensive fruits to fill up the supermarket shelves it was the corner shops who bought from the local market gardener. Certainly it wasn’t possible to buy processed foods and I remember my mum made up the pets food with cheap mince or pilchards mixed with left overs, they seemed to fare well.

As a child I was able to run freely and play out without my parents worrying about my safety, for protection the dog generally tagged along. Violence on TV was unheard of and the nearest we came was in the movies as slapstick or cowboys and Indians, any violence being some swashbuckling hero. Our imaginary world was played out in the fresh air broken only by a dash home for something to eat, then off again using our imagination to keep us enthralled.

As a child school holidays were filled with outdoor play after breakfast of either porridge or jam butty’s only returning when you heard mum calling your name from a great distance. Never speak to strangers was branded on the brain. Generally there would be a local Bobbie on hand in times of trouble who would probably issue as standard a clout round the ear for being naughty. Us kids could run wild without fear of some paedophiles invading our play or our person. I do remember however a man flashing himself to me in the park. I was more curious than shocked, in truth seeing a man’s willy was more amusing than traumatising.  

It is true our generation did not know much about conservation or being green, indeed war time and post war babies were ignorant of many things. We did however return our milk and pop bottles to the local shop where they were sent back to the factory to be washed and sterilized and reused. Those bottles were not smashed and recycled at a massive cost. We also earned a penny or halfpenny per bottle for our trouble. We did not have multiple plug sockets in the house burning electricity day and night. We did play board games and read books avidly or draw on the backs of used paper. Any waste food was collected weekly by the local farmer for his pigs which we later ate in pork chops or a Christmas joint. Eggs were bought fresh at the market and veg from a market gardener. Granted we didn’t have the choices and variations of food but it wasn’t packaged in plastic and it wasn’t treated to prevent it from going rotten before one got it home.

As far as conservation is concerned there was no waste of energy by leaving the lights on all times of the day and night and vacuuming and washing daily was unheard of, however tide marks on the neck and arms were frequently seen. Sixty years ago for our exercise we walked everywhere and if we did not visit big stores there were no escalators so climbing stairs were natural. We carried large brown paper bags of shopping home from the grocers or butchers. Buying disposable goods wasn’t in our awareness. Children’s nappies were of the washable towelling kind and hung out to dry on the line. There was no such thing as an energy wasting dryer and we didn’t have central heating.  More importantly we did not throw clothes away when children grew out of them we either past them on or down to the next child or family member.

Young housewives  didn’t have ready meals, it was important to learn how to cook. Ready meals were science fiction.  If we had to send a parcel in the mail it wouldn’t be packed it in bubble wrap or polystyrene we used old newspapers and brown paper to protect it. Buying water in plastic bottles only to be thrown away was unheard of; we drank from the nearest tap. There were no plastic disposable pens only fountain pens that were refillable with ink. We didn’t use plastic bags for our shopping we carried a basket or a suitable cloth bag. Our generation did not drive everywhere filling the environment with damaging fumes we walked or took the bus or train or rode a bike to school and work. We didn’t have computers that received signals from about 2,000 miles in space to find the nearest takeaway on the internet.

It is true most of us knew very little about conservation, living most of the time without being wasteful. Not perfect by any means but our parents struggled with poverty and lack of medical care before the national health came into being. Post war it was more about how to get through each day rather than worrying about conservation. Accusing the older generation of being uncaring about conservation seems silly, when ‘Waste not Want not’ was our general motto.

ARE WE BEING SERVED BADLY?

We British have many qualities, we are in the main accepting of another’s culture, and we are generous in the way of ‘giving’ to charity whenever the call comes. We are reputed to be good at queuing which manifests from the war when we had to queue for rations. We are considered stoic and unruffled when trouble is on the horizon and perhaps that is the problem for me. However we are supposed to be a nation of shopkeepers and once our retail industry was second to none. But I am unhappy with some big companies who seem to have lost sight of the old values. Being the biggest company does not necessarily mean being the best.

I go into an optician in Llandudno to buy a pair of glasses, have an eye test, the lenses are recommended and I’m asked to choose from a wide range of frames and pay my deposit.  Some weeks later a lens falls out so I take it back to the same optician only for them to refit, and all’s well.  Not quite, this happens several times along with the frames falling apart a couple of times. Naturally I return to the optician they even send away for replacement frames on two occasions, almost a year after purchase I have been told to choose some new ones. OK, fair enough you say.  Throughout this final discussion the assistant tells me I would be better off with a plastic frame rather than metal for reading glasses and also I should remove them with two hands not one.  How many people read with one hand whilst putting on or removing their reading glasses with the other? Nearly all I imagine, but oh, silly me I must need three hands or maybe someone to take them off for me. “Excuse me” I ask a passing stranger in the supermarket “Would you mind removing my glasses now that I have finished reading the label on this packet?”

It is not just opticians, a couple of weeks ago I went to book some tickets for the theatre and had some problems sorting out payment with the vouchers. I can cope with that but the dismissive attitude of staff was awful. Not a smile or a sincere apology from the manager or the young guy who served me. I had the distinct impression they saw me as a nuisance. I had taken in a voucher which was left over from last years gift with an expiry date of Feb 2012 so naturally needed to use it up along with some new vouchers. I was told by the youth behind the counter “Oh we just renew it even though it has an expiry date”. Oh really! Then why have an expiry date, how do I know that it will be renewed? Was all I could say? His smug reply was “because I say it will be!” Oh!  I’m sorry, and you are?

Maybe I am paranoid enough to think it is me, or more likely it’s because I am over 65 and any young thing expects me to be senile, therefore I won’t notice what is going on or it’s expected I will have forgotten how I’d been duped by the time I‘m out the door.  Where is the philosophy of service with a smile? or the customer is always right? What has happened to the idea that keeping a customer happy means they will return time and again? Another of my gripes is when you have stood for ten minutes in a queue then the phone rings behind the counter and the shop assistant picks it up. That phone call has jumped the queue, how is that right? “You are not going to answer that are you when I have stood here waiting my turn that call is at the end of the queue?” I remain calm even when she says “we have to answer otherwise we might lose a customer”. You just have!

Perhaps I am a grumpy old woman and I self sooth with this thought perhaps lulled into a false sense of security, but then it happens a gain. Someone pushed a voucher into my hand in Llandudno stating in bold print ‘coffee or tea and cake £3’ so good humouredly hubby and I venture into this café over a book store only to be charged £7 for two coffees and two cakes. ‘Oh it doesn’t apply to all cakes’ says the sales assistant, ‘What’s this leaflet for then?’ I ask gormlessly “Oh that is just an advertising leaflet and it does say certain cakes in the small print.” This reply is from some affronted member of the staff. Ah! Silly old me I am such a divvy. I thought it read £3 for coffee and cake? I hadn’t realised that like all documents these days there is small print that we old ones can’t read without glasses and remember, as well as holding my shopping bags, I had to put my glasses on and off with two hands to read the small print on a leaflet.

Sorry but I haven’t finished yet, there is the telephone enquiry services for example the Nectar card, I phoned the number on the back and after pushing several buttons 1 for this 2 for that and 3 for something else eventually reached a call centre in Indian. I needed to update my point’s card and you would think I wanted to invade America’s Gold Reserve.

 “Can you tell me your mother’s maiden name?” says the voice from a far.

“What is your date of birth? What was your last address?” she persisted.

“Why do you want all this security there is only £1-50 on the thing” I was stifling a scream at the time with my fist in my mouth.

Next comes the day your internet doesn’t work so you phone your Broadband provider and what do they say?     “If you are having trouble with accessing your internet why not try our website? www.numbskullservices.com” ….by now I want to hang up and throw the phone through the window “Why do you think I am phoning you? I cannot, repeat cannot, use the internet that is why I have spent thirtyfive minutes trying to get someone live on the phone”.

Somebody please shoot me!

(First published in the North Wales Weekly News 2012)

FINDING NEW FRIENDSHIPS IN LATER LIFE

Recently I have had cause to consider how difficult it can be to find new friends as we get older.  Meeting  people isn't easy at any time even the most confident of us can be a bit unnerved when coming up against a few different faces. When we move areas or change jobs we have to contend with  learning something new but also dealing with the many and varied aspects of the human Psyche. As we say in North of England 'there is nought funnier than folk'.
For those of us who retire to a new vicinity then we are not only moving house, lifestyle and routine we are also making a massive change by leaving behind the camaraderie of the workplace and the friendly neighbours next door. I remember with fondness the support and closeness of my neighbours at difficult times in my life.
When we moved to North Wales I hadn't a clue about the area and used a Sat Nav just to get me to Asda, meeting people wasn't the highest thing on my list but it soon became a priority. You can't find friends with a Sat Nav. But you can with the internet.

You may imagine that you will be able to continue the contacts you had and of course that for some is true especially whilst busying oneself with the move. However that is not the same as being able to pop down the road for a cuppa with someone who knows you well. As time passes in your retirement or your new situation when you are ready to  seek out new activities and hobbies and where do you start? This is where the internet is often a Godsend and a great place to start. However is it possible to develop life time frienships as we get older? Can we start again to make friends like we did when we were working? Where do we start and is it possible to gain that level of closeness in older age that one had in the work place or when the children where young? What do you think?

We are looking to develop a friendship group on Gransnet.com where you can chat on line before venturing forward to meetups within your own area. So if you are looking for friends or you are recently moved into the area, retired or otherwise then our friendship group might suit you. This is a brand new group where everyone is in the same boat and we will be setting off on a journey of discovery together.
Watch the gransnet page http://local.gransnet.com/conwy for more details and Gransnet Conwy face book page you will need to let me know by writing on the Conwy forum.
Our first get together will be on July 17th at 2-30pm venue to be disclosed soon. Remember this group is brand new and we are all starting from the same place. One thing we have in common is we are all over 50. A great place to start!

DO PAST EVENTS FORM THE WAY WE SEE THE PRESENT?

When you take a look back over your life does it seem real? I wonder what it has all been about. Sometimes happy,  some sad but mainly there has been a kind of struggle from one phase of life to the next. Nowadays I don't look back very often and generally  it's because I am with people who are doing that game of  'Do you remember when'.
Last evening I was with some people who were talking about politics it got rather heated as you might imagine and my friend said something along the lines of the young not being interested in what is going on in society. They weren't interested in who to vote for or what to take a stand about. I think maybe that is true for a proportion of society but there will always young people who are serious enough to take social policy and redesign it.
Looking back on life all there is are memories, not facts, just an interpretation of the emotional physical upheavals. Memories of course are intangible they are just figments of our imagination but each event has helped form us pushing us on one path or another. Mostly in my life it has been opportunity that I have grabbed at like a lifeboat bobbing towards me when I have been sinking or looking for a new island in life. Then there have been turmoils like death and illness with those close to me that has instantly halted  then jerked me forward into another direction albeit one I had never envisaged. I suppose each emotional and physical event has brought me to be the person I am today.

In retrospect when young I didn't think about the future or society as a whole not until something hit me in the face.  However as an older woman I am far more socially aware, far more conscious of another's life or situation. I think maybe I find life far too distressing especially  when out in the world, children's crying disturbs me, dogs in cars distress me especially when the weather is warm. Older people struggling along on little zimmer frames pushing their way through a selfish society and unseen or unnoticed in their daily struggles to get by.

Yesterday I wanted to tell a mother of two that she should not prop feed her baby in the pram whilst wandering the shops , I wanted to point out that her toddlers eyes needing to be shielded from the sun but I didn't. There have been days when I have wanted to speak to  parents who seemed oblivious to a child's need for a drink and clothes that needed to be loosened as he lay screaming in his trolley.  I watched another parent eat a large ice-cream whilst a toddler with longing stared on. How selfish we have become, how careless and yet no one seems to notice what is happening or do they?

THE STORMIEST SHIP ON THE SEA IS RELATIONSHIP!

I have never really been on a ship when there has been a storm thank God! I have been on a boat in Majorca when the sea was very choppy and that scared the pants off me. I remember being upset and frightened as I clung to the rail and felt terrified of being washed over board and the boat capsizing. I can't swim so that didn't help and had lots of flashbacks about falling in the water at the school baths and no one realising that I was drowning. Of course here I am to tell the tale but it put me off and thereafter had to take fake notes to school excusing me from the weekly trip to the local baths. Nowadays I only venture onto boat trips if the water is calm and the day is windless. Perhaps a metaphor for life.

However all this leads me to my title 'The Stormiest Ship' etc. In truth I do mean relationships, family, friends, partners and working contacts also.
For the most part they bob along island hopping, moving through change, dealing with misunderstandings, conflicts, separation and coming together as groups of individuals at various times with various difficulties.

How do each of us deal with family conflict, extra marital affairs, health issues and financial problems and old age and so on? Maybe we take it in our stride seeing it as a hill to climb an obstacle to overcome or maybe we turn our backs on conflict and pretend it isn't happening. Maybe we lose touch and leave members behind. It surprises me how many people I know haven't seen a son or daughter or sister/brother for years.

Each of us has our own philosophy for dealing with relationship conflict. I know people who are unforgiving and will not budge towards making a move to sooth the conflict. Then there are others who see conflict as normal and just a life issue and will move beyond the trouble putting it on one side, perhaps dealing with it head on in the hope of soothing the road ahead. I know of some who won't bite the bullet and confront the issues and I know some who will just suck it up on the day for the sake of those they love.

There is no doubt that life is difficult and it is full of ups and downs, and all we have to do is accept that we have to overcome these difficulties and face that this is how life is. That way we will not be tortured that 'life is against us' or that we are experiencing 'bad Karma' or some such thing. Life is life and that's it and how we sail this ship depends upon each of us. How we negotiate or navigate stormy seas is up to us, sometimes we may plan not to take a certain journey foreseeing a storm ahead or maybe we go full steam  and face each obstacle as it comes . Of course problems bring emotional upheaval, or physical pain but it is how we meet and solve these problems, how we get through the issue of the day that counts in the reduction of pain.

I suppose if there is a problem within any relationship do we want to solve it? How much does it matter? My philosophy is 'If there is a way to solve it then solve it or at least attempt to'. Sometimes we as individuals do not see ourselves as to blame, thus blame others for what is wrong therefore seeing the other as needing to solve it. If we want life to be easier then we must take responsibility for our part in problems or stormy moments. We must be prepared to look at ourselves honestly and prepared to put ourselves in someone else's shoes which means empathising with the one you are at odds with.
It takes courage to be honest and also have the capacity not to hurt deliberately in this honesty.
Be true to oneself which means you don't go out to sea in a shoddy boat
Be true to the other so that they are not left holding a quivering sailor who never wanted to be there in the first place.
Be accepting of others then maybe they will accept you.
See yourself as others see you rather than the fantasy image you are trying to project.
Empathise with the other when relationships become stormy and finally, communicate well before things get out of hand.
Talking is the art of healing, communication is the glue that hold the ship together.

I do not pretend to have solved this particular issue but with age  hope that I can put myself in the position of 'do unto others as I would be done by'.