Ink on my fingers

Five years

You took your last breath five years ago today. I'm finding it really hard to get my head around the timescale - five years! - but so much has happened in that time, it makes sense it's been that long, i guess. Your death set me off on a path i never imagined i would take; it took a few years to find my feet again, but once I did the healing began in earnest. There were many gifts in our relationship, but it's my relationship with you since you passed that has brought the most treasures; I never imagined that could be possible, either, but it is true.

Your death has taught me how to feel empathy for another's pain. I learned how to sit with my own pain and breathe my way through it. I learned how to uncover all the shit i had held so close to me, and to unpick it, and heal it, and let it go. I unravelled all the knots in my past, and i wove a new story, one that has the real me at the heart of, and not my neediness or my shame or my insecurity. I found myself, and i learned to love the less-than-perfect bits, of which there are many. I opened myself to my creativity again, and discovered that the words and images had been inside me all along, just waiting for their day in the sunshine. I followed my newly-mended heart and found a way to support myself doing work that excites me and helps others - that has been such a gift and i know you'd be proud of me, though i'm sure you'd think the concept of Unravelling was rather hippy and too touchy-feely for you :) And any day now I will become an auntie - can you believe it?

I don't think a relationship like ours - one of such intensity and passion - could have lasted and i have a feeling it would have burnt itself out by now. But who knows? I couldn't understand why you died - no one in that situation can, but it was so sudden, so shocking, i couldn't accept it; and yet here i am, with all that is around me and all that is ahead of me, and i can't help feeling it was supposed to be this way. And admitting that no longer feels like a betrayal of you and your life. I have integrated your death in my own life, and i have healed and moved forward, inch by inch, until i am now far enough away from the blast to be able to find gratitude for the journey i have been on. The journey that continues until we meet again.

I miss you. x

Edited to add: he was an old rocker and a big Kings of Leon fan, so i know he's gutted he's missed their new albums. If we all play this song, maybe it will be loud enough to reach him. Thank you.

We don't forget

Every year is different because every year I am in a different place in my life, but there is no way I would ever forget. I'm in the waiting room right now, counting down the days till the anniversary of his death, while also counting down the days to the birth of my nephew. The plan is for me to be with my sister (and her fiance) when she's in labour, and i'm feeling the responsibility of that. I have a ton of work to do - all of it work i want to sink into and enjoy - but i am a mess of emotion. Birth and death, all packed into my small head. I haven't been sleeping well, unsurprisingly. My dreams are filled with babies in my arms, and his arms around me; it is impossible to hide from the memories when you're unconscious. He was kissing me last night and i woke in tears; i find it extraordinary that these memories still have this effect on me. I am in a really good place in my life - his memory is honoured and cherished, but i am looking forward to new possibilities this year, and am so so ready to embrace them. But still there is this sadness - sometimes i think it is merely the echoes of grief resounding around me; it gets twisted into a new shape, and you learn to live with the loss, to find new paths and joys, but the grief really does mark you forever, like a ring in a tree trunk, a raised scar on your heart. In years to come i will still have these memories, kept in a dusty shoebox in the back of my mind; i will pull them out occasionally and run my fingertips over the smiles and promises. For now i will try to string words together for work, thinking of birthing babies by day, and sleeping with the deceased at night. And the world keeps turning.

V Day

I haven't had cause to celebrate Valentine's Day over the last five years as I have been a single person for all that time; I did have a teeny tiny flingette in January 2008, but that's it. No bedroom traffic, no naughty texts and definitely no Valentine cards. At the end of last year i put out a request on Facebook asking what people would like to read in my book - a new friend of mine posed the following question:

'I'd like to know why the hell you're not dating at all. I find this so baffling. I can't imagine that it's due to a lack of opportunity. There must be more to it. If I was a man I certainly would make some lame pass at you.'

The sad truth is it IS due to lack of opportunity; my lone-wolf-work-at-home situation means I don't get to meet many eligible men. And by 'many' i mean none at all.

I have moments when my (lack of) marital status gets me down, when i miss having a companion to snuggle up on the sofa with and argue about who takes the recycling out, but I've been filling my life so enthusiasically with work I have kept most of the maudlin thoughts at bay. For a while there I'll admit I was avoiding anything that remotely suggested contact with the opposite sex; it has taken me many years to even get to the point where i could countenance such a thing. But here I am, five years into grief and healing, with a renewed sense of self and so much more to share with the world.. and with a partner.

And then February 14th swings around, and I find myself bristling at the onslaught of hearts and flowers and cheesy romantic slogans that i want to pooh-pooh; and yet there's still a little part of me who'd be thrilled to receive some flowers on Sunday. And yes, this e-card makes me giggle and would be more suited to my sense of humour - and maybe one day i will meet a partner-in-crime who knows that - but... well... I don't really know what I'm trying to say in this post. Just that - I am ready. And i remain patient, because there is much I must do this year, and, luckily, some of it will help me expand and welcome new opportunities into my life.

So for now I will continue to show myself kindness and love, as I really do believe that that's the best place to start. Because if i can't give myself that gentle gift, why would anyone else want to?

For my single sisters out there, and my coupled-up sisters too, here's a little bit of love* for your computer screen. Let's make this weekend about love in whatever shape we find it.
Small: 1024x768
Medium: 1280x1024
Large: 1600x1200
Extra wide: 1920x1200

* The images are for your personal use only and I retain the copyright, etc etc :) For more computer love check out Kate's lovely wallpaper here.

~ More often ~

Once in a while it will hit me like a blow to my stomach. Not often; just occasionally, when perhaps i haven't thought about it for a few weeks. I always know how it is i came to be living here, how i came to be teaching what I am, how i found myself taking pictures again. i know how far along the path i've travelled, how healed i am, how much 'better' my life is now. I know all of this, and i am grateful to be here. But once in a while, like this evening, i will remember. I will sit down on my sofa, with all the wind taken out of my sails. i will sit there and find i have no words, as i say over and over to myself: he died. Sometimes i think i get upset simply because i remember the pain that came after; i remember that pain more keenly than i can remember his touch. After nearly five years i can now admit the screw-ups of our relationship, and how we may not have been together today, had he still been here. I can see the failings and flaws, the disappointments and regrets. The rose-tinted specs are off and the reality check is in place. And i know that i have let him go. I know i have. But once in a while i will stop what i'm doing with the enormity of remembering, and i will wish I had said i love you more often than i did.

~ An open mind ~

Oh London, how you tempt me with your beauty and decay, your ancient wiles and modern possibility. I hadn't expected to have such a great weekend. I mean, I knew my days with Sas would be full of laughter and connection, but i didn't expect to fall back in love with the city. And when i say back in love I mean rapturously, madly, insanely back in love with old London town. Maybe it was because Sas and I drove across the city on adventures like Thelma and Louise. Maybe it was the sunshine and high energy around the Notting Hill Carnival preparation. I got to see so many of the places I love - Battersea Power Station, the Natural History Museum, Portobello Road, the Barbican, Greenwich Market. I discovered that Chiswick is a place I can see myself living, with my little car (more on that soon) and my portable business. Doing the work i do I can live anywhere, and this weekend I felt my brain expand as i soaked in all the possibilities, stuff i hadn't considered for a very long time. I'm not saying i'm leaving Bath... but now i know i could, and that realisation is going to make the next 12 months a lot more interesting. You only live once, right?

UPDATE: My mum just emailed me, after reading this post, and shared this: 'Just to let you know that your grandad (my dad) assisted in the construction of one of the chimneys on Battersea Power Station - I know it is not called that now, but just a little snippet from the past.' - how freakin' cool is that?!

~ There's no place like home ~

Monday is my one-year anniversary of living in Bath; i'll be in London on the actual day but i know i'll be looking forward to getting back to my little flat and cosying in with my metaphorical pipe 'n' slippers. This place really has become my home, both the city with its friendly taxi drivers and extraordinary refuse problem, and this flat with its tired carpet and insect flatmates (seriously - just call me Susannah Doolittle). I feel settled here, i feel held and supported. My dreams are beginning to flourish, and i know that it was my leap last year that has made it all possible. I hoped for more, for a bigger life, but i didn't expect of all this... I truly hope that this is just the beginning. I'm feeling more able to make space in my inner cupboards now, so there's room for a partner-in-crime in my world... i think it could be fun. I'm ready for some fun.

1. Sam Roddick's living room; 2. colourful rooms from Family Living (via Desire to Inspire); 3. Lisa Congdon's kitchen (via Apartment Therapy); 4. via Living Etc; 5. photo by Annika Vannerus (via Emmas designblogg); 6. the perfect workspace (via Emmas designblogg)

~ Blue eyes ~

Sometimes i miss having a partner in my life but on the whole I'm pretty good with my single status; I don't know how i'd get all my work done if i had a tall hairy-chested distraction in my world. But some days I wish i could switch my dreams off, when, for the third night in a row, he has been reconstituted in my head, made real with hot summer skin and those blue blue eyes, and i wake knowing that I'd give up all of this - Bath, work, plans - just to have an hour in his company again. As the morning wears on and i become grounded back in the present, i remind myself that i wouldn't have life any other way. But for those few moments, with sleepy eyes and an aching heart, i wish that it hadn't happened.

Friends tell me that if i was seeing someone now the memories of the past would recede, in the best possible way. And they are right  - the link between me now and the past is unfettered and these memories haunt my dreams more often than i'd like. It still surprises me how the mind finds ways to plug us so directly into old emotions, as if no time had passed; i can feel the sadness as if it was yesterday.

I'm not brooding on this; there is a lot of joy and goodness happening in my life that i am so grateful for. But i woke this morning in tears after another full-on dream and it has shaken me a little, so today I'm going to spend the day with my sister, running around Bristol, looking at art, eating a delicious lunch and driving back to Bath for a yoga class. My right now is a good one; i just miss him.

~ It's good to be alive ~

Something magical happens when people come together to do healing work; my experience of facilitating these Unravelling groups is blowing my mind more and more. What is it they say? Teacher, heal thyself. We are coming to the end of the summer Unravelling class - my second - and as with the last class I find I am unravelling myself even more, finding new hurts to heal, new ways to let go of past issues and breathe more fully as me now. And my Unravellers are helping - we are helping each other.

I lead the way and bring the tools to use, but each class has its own dynamic and rhythm and each individual brings their story to share. Some step forward and share more visibly than others, and this encourages those who prefer to work privately. Then friendships and connections made, and a supportive network forms. I watch it all unfold and have moments, when i've read another brave and tender soul sharing her heart, when i marvel that I helped to bring this together. It is really quite humbling.

Some of the Unravellers have shared videos of themselves with the group - it's not a part of the course but has been a wonderful develoment, as individuals feel emboldened to let us see them, often raw and vulnerable; sometimes the thing we need most is to be seen and witnessed. Nothing more than that. This last week a new trend started - sharing dancing video clips! It is impossible to watch them and not want to get up and shake your booty, so this afternoon, I tried it. The Brand New Heavies started playing on iTunes, i pressed record on my computer's camera and i got up and jigged about for a minute. Silly, free and alive, the summer sun pouring though the living room window, no make up, cheap dress. And when i watched it back i realised that the world wasn't going to end if i let people see it. And so i shared the clip with the group... and the teacher healed herself a little bit more.

~ My old friend ~

Don't you love it when a book sets your brain on fire? I have been devouring David Whyte's new prose book, The Three Marriages; he posits that the first marriage is our commitment to another person, the second is our commitment to work and our vocation, and the third is our commitment to ourselves, our internal world. He says that this third one is the most difficult to embark upon as it seems to require us to withdraw and ponder, taking us away from the first two.

What I find interesting as read through this book is that I seem to have mastered this last commitment, having had four years of solitude and internal journeying to heal all that had gone before. I feel i have found myself, an ever-evolving and changing self, but still, i feel i know myself better now than at any other time in my life. So i have aced this last marriage he writes of, and this year I've been creating the meaningful work I've yearned for, work that supports me as a single independent woman and also puts some good out into the world...

Where I fall down is in the first, more-traditional, notion of marriage: commitment to another person.

For the last few months I've been working like a maniac, hence the month-long illness my body capitulated to after too much stress and not enough self-care. So now, as i mend, I'm learning to take better care of myself, factoring in more time to rest, eating better and being more mindful of my body and its needs. And it is now that I'm giving myself a chance to rest that all that I've been avoiding comes to the fore - turns out it wasn't just my immune system I was suppressing.

After four years and three months I look around me and feel the lack of a partner in my life. I mention this occasionally on this blog because occasionally i'll stop and notice it; mostly I just push it to one side. I like being on my own, i like my own space and company; i like setting my own schedules and routines, doing as i please and indulging my own whims. I've had long-term relationships in my life and i'll still occasionally feel the novelty of not being in one. But that doesn't stop the little whisper in my ear that wonders if this is it. There's been a Do Not Disturb sign on my door for quite a while now and a part of me (hormone-fuelled, no doubt) wants to get rid of it. Wants to let someone in the house of me.

Talking to Meg about it this weekend as we camped out in my flat, i realised that what's stopping me is my fear: the fear of being hurt. The fear of losing someone again. The fear of feeling something for another human being. Even typing this i get a bit choked up and teary - that's when i know i've hit the nail on the head. I'm scared to let someone in because all i expect is pain, and so i hide away and busy myself so i don't have to face this. But i think the time is coming when i'll have to deal with this stuff... i don't know how but it's floating around me and getting in my way and that's a sure sign that its time is nigh.

~ Lemon sherbet ~

I met a lovely woman last week whose story has stayed with me into today. Her youngest child was born with cancer and at just two-weeks old was undergoing chemotherapy. Can you imagine? The poor little mite had a cancerous tumour on his liver and the doctors feared the only way to cure him was with a liver transplant; removing the tumour was looking impossible, yet when they operated they discovered they could remove it completely and now the boy is a rambunctious five-year-old who is happy and healthy. I'm probably missing out key parts of the story, but what impressed me the most was that rather than rage at the universe this inspiring woman did something practical: she decided to retrain in reflexology and aromatherapy so she could support her son's healing alongside traditional medicine.

And that's what we do, isn't it, we try to make the best of a bad situation; we turn lemons into lemonade. Or a lemon meringue pie. Or lemon sherbet. We fall down and think we'll never get up again, but we do, and as we keep walking along the path we learn to avoid the holes in the road and steer clear of the banana skins, knowing that if we trip and lose our balance again we'll right ourselves. Because we did before. Slowly we learn that we can survive anything, that we'll find that inner reserve of strength when we need it, when we have to fight to save someone we love, whether it's our family, friends or even ourselves.

I survived a big tragedy, and now i want to channel those inner reserves into my every day, not just save them for the emergencies that come along. I'm also going to have a reflexology session with the lady I met because i think she has magic hands.