Opening the gates

Tags

healing, healing conversations, healing trauma, Trauma, trauma and recovery

As I write this we are on day 30 of Duolingo. At the Portuguese café I said Obrigada so well a man spun around surprised and asked me if I was in fact Portuguese. The reality is I can only say badly pronounced sentences such as ‘the woman eats an apple.’ ‘You need to get close, get a Portuguese boyfriend,’ he said.

We like to keep a low profile; this was shattered when our car alarm went off nine times in the middle of the night; we slept through it and the neighbour over the road banging on the door…

I got temporarily traumatised by some training on my induction training. Not by the huge volume of eLearning I had to work through, a problem that will be familiar to anyone working in health and social care. No, by the Safeguarding Adults training. Tip- if you are of a sensitive disposition, and the trainer says, this video comes with an extreme trigger warning, I cannot stress this enough, and gives you an option of not watching it, then don’t watch it. Anyway.

I used to follow the Buddhist teaching of ‘guarding the gates of your senses.’ I remained resentful, furious even, if people told me things I didn’t want to hear, because in some cases it took me years, over a decade, to forget.

My first thought was, I’m going to be stuck with this now, possibly for the rest of my life. I didn’t want to be alone, I wanted to cuddle all the time, I was extremely sensitive to the slightest raised voice or joke seriousness. I didn’t want to be in the bedroom alone. I didn’t even want to be outside the front door having a cigarette alone. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I went over and over it, in the complete detail. I tried to push it away, it kept coming. In the end I allowed it to come without pushing it away.

I searched for the lesson in it, (beyond, heed trigger warnings- which I did on the next batch of training, protecting myself this time) and concluded that it was my horizons being forcibly expanded. I’ve chosen a job in this field, and that means I’m going to come face to face with things that most people do not want to think about. Maybe it is time to Open the Gates. Perhaps to become stronger and manage more than I realised. Perhaps like Ganesh in Pushkar, who told us he watched the news in India, so that, ‘I know there is everything.’

Shortly after this, I had a Conversation With My Son About The Past. This was set up by my husband on the request of my son, after having done preliminary conversations with us both. I had previously thought I would go to my grave having never had this conversation but on the day I actually initiated it. I felt dizzy only for a moment, then it was tolerable. I moved, and leant on the doorframe. It was like stepping through a portal, or breaking the fourth wall. A few days after that, he called my husband and said he was making two important actions to look after his health. Is that a coincidence? There’s no such thing as coincidences.

The back bedroom, the warmest, sunniest, sweetest room in the house

Of course it can’t stay like that… Because we have stuff, and because of who we are. We wear the house lightly. This messy minimalism, helps me not to take it all too seriously.

Understanding shadow work, at last, as it pertains to me, not as an abstract theory or Instagram saying. I realised that pushing away that aspect of me also pushes away the creative individual. I hold onto some ideal which I’m not, and deny the sparky original aspects of myself into the bargain. I never understood this properly before. By accepting the so called bad you accept the so called good. Instead of blocking, and continually hoping for something else, some impossible wish; instead accepting what is, and then what is comes rushing in, and it isn’t, after all, that bad. I’m constantly tensed against so much, literally twisting and turning away, from what, what is so bad?

Shadow work, all work, is a continual process of waking up, realising, forgetting, learning; like peeling an onion until all that’s left is you, sitting in an empty room, alone.

Thank you very much for reading

12 RULES FOR BEING HUMAN HANDED DOWN FROM ANCIENT SANSKRIT

1. You will receive a body

2. You will learn lessons

3. There are no mistakes, only lessons

4. A lesson will be repeated until it is learned

5. Learning lessons does not end

6. ‘There’ is no better than ‘here’

7. Others are merely mirrors of you

8. What you make of your life is up to you

9. Life is exactly what you think it is

10. Your answers lie inside of you

11. You will forget all of this

12. You can remember it whenever you want

There is no better than Here: Part Two

Tags

coping with change, mindfulness, nature, swimming

I need to delete the app from the swimming pool in Northamptonshire, cold and run down, every other locker broken, where I still went at eight or nine at night even in the winter.

Before that, the pool in Hertfordshire where I often only went to shower.

Before that no swimming, travelling, before that the UEA or Riverside in Norwich. Before that St Augustine’s with its three terrifying diving boards. Before that, secondary school indoors, before that primary school outdoors.

My first really good swim here, at the beautiful, brand new Marina, an eight minute walk from my house. I have a brand new beautiful swimming pool an eight minute walk from my house! Arriving in the deep end, resting my feet on a convenient shelf, I look up and see the arcades, and what looks like a Sea Goddess, facing out to sea, strong and powerful. Coming out, I feel gravity come back into my body. You can walk through the café and out the back doors which open right out onto the beach.

This is my sixth job in five years; up until we went travelling I did the same job for seven years but since we got back to the boat mooring I’ve done a few months in one role, then a year in a different role at the same place, then a year in Hertfordshire, taking the boat with us for a continuous cruising adventure; then back at the boat mooring a different job for six months until moving to the house; which is in a different town but in the same county (Norfolk) as where we were before going travelling.

On our return, we have been very disappointed with Norfolk racism. ‘I’m not a racist but…’ John’s new work colleagues (he called them out and since then he changed jobs.)

‘Oh, I met the neighbour.’ John said

‘Oh good,’ I say.

‘He’s a racist.’ John says.

‘FFS!’

So now I test people out straightaway, my new friend, let’s establish this before we go any further. ‘I love it that it’s so diverse here,’ I say, ‘I love the Portuguese cafes.’

As well as enjoying the cafes, having visitors to the house has been very nice.

Our dear friend DW came with a huge desk, an Ikea bookcase, coffee tables; calmly putting it all together for us. So kind. Another trip, more gifts, shiny, quality cutlery gleaming in the kitchen drawer. Arranging plain and neutral plates and bowls in the cupboards, opening the doors to admire them.

Working from home, online training, we had a forty-five minute lunch break so I walked down to the sea. A six minute walk from my front door to my feet on the sand! I’d already planned to paddle. I carried my trainers this time, having had my previous pair stolen while paddling before we moved in. The water was very cold. The sun was shining. Several families were at the water’s edge. The wheel gleamed.

The pods are back on- the Season and Summer are near!

Video of starlings on my Instagram

Sometimes if it’s late, John meets me at the pool. ‘We’re walking a different way home, I found this place where the trees are full of birds,’ he said one evening. ‘Don’t walk here by yourself when it’s late.’ He said he had walked behind a man yelling at another man. ‘If I see you again I’ll cut your fucking head off! Oh, sorry Sir,’ he said hastily when he saw John. 

Usually the starlings are at the top of our road, then later, above the trees where they sleep. I followed them, the sound of their wings beating overhead. Later I saw poop on my coat, but I didn’t care.

We followed them to the trees, then crossed over the road, avoiding the poop this time, and watched them swoop over the trees, then land in waves, around a third of them landing, and again, and again, like a table cloth being folded, and that was that, hundreds of them, tucked up for the night.

One evening I drove straight to the pool after work and parked at the Marina car park. It was dusk. Ahead of me the sea and sky a vibrant blue against the golden sands and green netting. Wellington Pier glowed its magical hues. Like the place in Vietnam. Like love. Enjoying the interstitial time and oatcakes and a banana, in the rear view mirror the sunset and the starling murmuration.

In a session with my clinical supervisor at work: ‘I feel you are in exactly the right place,’ she said. I’m still learning, growing, reflecting.

What I’ve been listening to/watching

Reginald Perrin (triggering fleeting moments of existential crisis when we first moved in: should we have come back, to a house, to Norfolk? Will we, do we need to, run away again?

TalkSPORT, always. Why I love Laura Woods

Diary of a CEO- Steven Bartlett’s (from Dragon’s Den) podcast-

– Raphael Rowe (journalist with a podcast and Netflix series, previously was wrongly convicted and spent 12 years in prison)

-Peter Crouch (footballer)

-Jesse Lingard (footballer)

‘I know you’re obsessed right now but do you think at some point we could listen to something other than football?’

GY favourites:

Original Projects

My Instagram @always_evolving_ever-real

My GY Instagram @living_in_GY

My husband’s Instagram @travelswithanthony

My husband’s GY Instagram @love_4_GY

12 RULES FOR BEING HUMAN HANDED DOWN FROM ANCIENT SANSKRIT

1. You will receive a body

2. You will learn lessons

3. There are no mistakes, only lessons

4. A lesson will be repeated until it is learned

5. Learning lessons does not end

6. ‘There’ is no better than ‘here’

7. Others are merely mirrors of you

8. What you make of your life is up to you

9. Life is exactly what you think it is

10. Your answers lie inside of you

11. You will forget all of this

12. You can remember it whenever you want

There is no better than Here*

Tags

awareness, be here now, change, cost of living, Great Yarmouth, GY, Moving, staying positive, there is no better than here

And just like that, everything changes.

There

23rd November 2022- I’m writing this from the boat, it’s past eight in the evening, a World Cup group stage game, Belgium vs Canada, is coming to an end. The wood burner is thoroughly going, and the boat is warm (except for the loo area). I’m wearing two pairs of socks, sweat pants, three vests, a long sleeved top and a jumper (and a hoody when I go to the loo!) I got home from work, ate strange week-before-payday economy foods (a stale white roll briefly soaked in oat milk, and drizzled with agave nectar (vegan honey), delicious, eaten in my coat before even starting the fire, and later a bowl of curry super noodles in lots of water, functional, warm and filling. This is more as an exercise rather than absolute necessity; I still have money in the bank, and savings. I acknowledge the privilege of my position. But when I’m here alone I often prefer to eat toast and cereal or a Pot Noodle, enjoying the freedom of not cooking or eating a proper meal.

I also enjoy eating out of the cupboards, which are stocked with packets of lentil dahl, rice and various tins. I still remember a before-pay-day cupboard meal of well over a decade ago: saffron rice followed by big bowls of custard, absolutely wonderful; the expensive saffron bought for some recipe and then left languishing, the tin of custard powder probably similarly gathering dust. Nowadays we usually buy ready to pour soya cream or cartons of vegan custard.** After I’d eaten I had a mug of tea, the pleasure of a hot cup of tea in winter.

It might not seem like the best time to be buying a house, taking on the responsibility of a mortgage and bills, being as I am in the UK, it is Winter, and I’m fifty-two years old, but I feel absolutely at peace with it. I’ve just put a few things into bags/piles at the bottom of the wardrobe; being a boat it’s not like there’s anywhere to pile things up ready to take. On Friday we are driving over with two car loads. On Saturday we are hiring a van and collecting various pieces of furniture and household items which have been given to us by family, friends and acquaintances, and which are currently in various locations around the area where the house is (a three-four hour drive away from the boat.)

In between

We got the keys on 30th September, moved in 15th December and I started work 19th December. In between, we went to Great Yarmouth every other weekend and stayed at The St George Hotel, a beautiful old hotel with wooden bannisters, an original old lift and chandeliers. The rooms very clean, usually with extra beds as well as a tv, a fridge and a microwave. It is being used to house people in need, on occasion it was noisy, twice the fire alarms went off with people smoking in their room. We ate Indian takeaway carefully in the room with a teaspoon, we microwaved ready meals. We miss it sometimes, as it was a second home.

Arriving at dusk and parking up, looking out to see Wellington Pier glowing its different colours. The feeling of gratitude when I paused outside after going out to the car: Tonight we have three places to sleep, the hotel room, the house, the boat. Plus family and friends who would take us in. In sharp relief to the people in need at the hotel.

The electricity didn’t work. I had my interview for my new job upstairs in the cold house sitting on a folding chair; the interview was 10am, checkout time at the hotel, I charged everything up before, hoping the portable internet and the charge would hold out. My husband, spending several days waiting in a cold house (British Gas refused to help at first, eventually they sent an engineer to replace their faulty meter), and then another waiting at the side of the road; both cars broke, one after another and had to be replaced. Then the boiler. We spent one very uncomfortable night on an airbed which went flat. Then we got a bed delivered, then a sofa and armchair both from a local charity furniture shop.  

Hanging up our Indian parasols in my room beside a simple clothes rail with a few vintage summer clothes items on it, waiting.

Space. Eight compartments where a door can be shut. Thick carpet in the bathroom. Warmth. The lights and heat on when I got home, after going for a walk; it was warmer outside than in the house.

** now we have a tub of original custard powder again, (accidentally vegan), we have had to economise a lot; and a couple of months in realised we really didn’t have enough money coming in. In a great example of Cosmic Ordering, the very next day I got an extra day at work, and John applied for two substantive senior jobs and got them both.

Even though stressful, we pulled together, not apart. John got really into making soups and stews with soup mix, pearl barley and loads of vegetables. He would joke about ‘here is your gruel,’ but it was really tasty. I am taking porridge oats and a few sultanas to work in a nutribullet container, I add boiling water and put the lid on and it cooks into porridge for lunch, with bananas and bread and butter for snacks.

Here

The house in which I am writing this right now, with the net curtains which I love so much: butterflies, these are everywhere, in quaint guesthouses and people’s homes, alongside  korus, which I considered but don’t want to deliberately get, more just like to spot accidentally. We have 1970s or early 80s décor, a brick bench/storage area in the living room, old fashioned light fittings, all things to criticise but which I love and I will defend their honour until I am hoarse. Like GY.

No one can criticise GY to us.

Love letter to row 116

GY levelling up

Winter Gardens monies

Outthere Festival

Yarmonics

*Not being pedantic, just interested in language: I always thought of this as ‘Over there is no better than here where you are.’ But it could also be, ‘There isn’t anywhere that is better than here.’

My Instagram @always_evolving_ever-real

My GY Instagram @living_in_GY

My husband’s Instagram @travelswithanthony

My husband’s GY Instagram @love_4_GY

12 RULES FOR BEING HUMAN HANDED DOWN FROM ANCIENT SANSKRIT

1. You will receive a body

2. You will learn lessons

3. There are no mistakes, only lessons

4. A lesson will be repeated until it is learned

5. Learning lessons does not end

6. ‘There’ is no better than ‘here’

7. Others are merely mirrors of you

8. What you make of your life is up to you

9. Life is exactly what you think it is

10. Your answers lie inside of you

11. You will forget all of this

12. You can remember it whenever you want