You gotta stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone oughtta be

I cannot take credit for this quote, it is from the latest book I am reading “Eat Pray Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything” by Elizabeth Gilbert, but it certainly got me thinking and reflecting

The past week or so has certainly felt like either something, someone at some point has been sent to test my emotional resilience, the past few days I have been in a vicious cycle of doubting then reassuring myself or questioning then reasoning with myself. why am I writing the book? will it be interesting enough? am I a narcissist is the writing just a form of Narcissism, self indulgence?

Am I a good mom? I have done things better, could I be doing things better? should I be doing something different? I get it, all moms are different there are those whose lives revolve around their kids and then their kids, right up until they die, but then there are others, like myself who want to keep a little back for themselves, to be a mom but want to be me too! is that selfish? Christ this parenting malarky is hard, regardless of how old ya kids are.

Then I haven’t felt 100% is it that? I mean I am perimenopausal the hormones are all over the fucking place, is it that? FUCK me I haven’t just been #havingawordwimesen I have had full-blown arguments with me sen. All I have wanted to do at times is isolate myself from all the crap and tediousness we call “life”, but hey that don’t a) pay the bills and b) sat alone wishing and hoping ain’t going to change anything, is it?

Reading that quote yesterday, was a subtle reminder and acknowledgment that wishing and hoping don’t and won’t change things and despite all the self-doubting I have still been steaming ahead with the writing, because that voice in my head still won’t shut the fuck up. I know that deep down I have found that writing, making time for me, in the morning before I expose myself to the “real” world is like a form of mindfulness as Sylvia Plath said: “I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still”. I have made progress, despite feeling doubtful within myself, I remind myself that this time last year, I was doing fuck all! now in a matter of months, i successfully managed to write down over 100, 000 words (if you include the persnal journal and book)

I have made a bold step and have asked someone to read my work to date, I am ready for some feedback, some constructive feedback, I am nearly a third into the book and don’t want to get to the end to have to re-write it all again. so its time to get cracking with some version control.

It’s not all been shit though, earlier on this year I responded to a Facebook post, which said “the first five people to reply to this post will receive a gift” I replied, but I also re-shared the post on my wall. I got 5 replies, well 6 truth be told, the 6th was from someone who I have the greatest respect and admiration for, who over recent months despite staying clean has had to deal with some real personal trauma that has come back to haunt her, in the form of PTSD, but yet despite all this SHIT she still hasn’t gone back to the bottle, she thought she had missed out, but truth be told this was an opportunity, excuse to do something nice for her. Despite feeling crap about me sen, it felt nice to be able to personally hand pick a book for each person, all apart from one, which was a book about sarcasm had been a book I had read myself and gotten something from it.

This week I am compiling a nomination for a woman, who in my eyes is Sheffield’s version of Mother Theresa, Now it’s these kinds of acts that make me feel whole again. So enough wi the moaning, wishing, hoping, i am back to nurturing this backbone and getting on with shit!

Also, I have come on this morning? for the women reading this, you’ll know what i mean.

Love Fordy x

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