Author: aconstanttlearner

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For better or for worse

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Acceptance, Anxiety, Authenticity, Challenges, adversity, Character, courage, Criticism, Dignity, EGO, Fear, Freedom, friendship, Herd mentality, Human nature, Intuition, Loneliness, Mental Health, Relationships, Self love, self-fulfillment, Social Media, Solitude, Stoicism, Strength, Thoughts, wisdom4 Comments

There is one remarkable thing about grief and losing someone who was a pillar in your life. It is a sobering reminder of how cruel and unforgiving time is. So much energy and effort invested during a life span in things and people which are inconsequential to our development or well-being. Why do we do it? Why is peer pressure such that we succumb to it at the expense of our own freedom? The death of a loved one, specially if you lose two people who are most dear to you at once, is a pivotal moment of reckoning: no more bullshit, no more pretence, people pleasing or wrestling with yourself to match other people’s expectations of who you should be. It is incredibly liberating but also ruthlessly punishing in that a process of shedding skins begins until there are no superfluous layers left. For the very first time, everyone gets to see the real you. It does not matter whether they love or despise what they see. They will hate you anyway simply for having the audacity to go against the grain, to break all convention and to think of your own needs first. It is through that exposure that we become vulnerable to the attacks of the world, ostracised for having the nerve to live according to the integrity and honesty of one and one only.

I am tired. I am so tired of trying so hard to not rub people the wrong way; tired of fitting in in an environment that is foreign, adverse, and harmful to me and my own needs. I am tired of complying so that I do not grate on those who live by what society regards as polite, courteous, admirable, acceptable behaviour. The tribal syndrome that obsesses over belonging and meeting the criteria to be accepted into the herd, following a certain code, certain patterns and attitudes, certain beliefs, acceptance or rejection, praise or judgement, the never-ending gossip or mocking of others which help us validate our own perceived superiority. This invisible societal collective force becomes the monster that rules over us and suppresses the individual for the sake of the entity, the herd, the gang, the tribe, whatever you want to call it; the group we humans desperately try to belong to so that we can feel loved and accepted, we can feel valid, successful and powerful.

Surely, the biggest life achievement in the world we currently live in has to be succeeding in disregarding misinformation and the mighty oppressive force within cancel culture, beating to your own drum and striving to develop that discernment that is so essential to navigate the murky waters of social media, politics, the news and even religion. Irrespective of what you may think about the bible, there is no denying there are buckets of wisdom within it. One of my very favorites and a mantra that dwells in my brain often is: Bad company corrupts good morals/character. I am often looked at like I am some sort of rare and weird animal species because I am extremely vigilant, guarded, and selective when it comes to whom I let into my circle of trust and friendship. And as with anything or anyone human beings fear and do not understand, they tend to malign it and try and persuade others to give it a wide berth. It can be lonely at times and incredibly challenging to the point where your core is shaken and broken as you doubt your own self. Do not succumb to that pressure. Better to be alone than in bad company.

I’d be very interested to hear other people’s views on this, so if you are reading this post, you are very welcome to leave me a comment. I don’t have all the answers, far from it, but I am fully aware of what is good for me and what is not. Loneliness I can cope with. I actually feed and grow from times when I am alone. I crave it all the time. I need it as much as I need water or food. What I cannot live with and can easily kill us one day at a time is going against our gut instinct, our principles, our nature. We all struggle with coping with too many voices in our head, but it is vital to listen to that small voice that is telling us to swim against the current. If it is challenging, unpopular and often lonely, nine times out of ten, it will be worth it and it will be right.

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Do YOU!

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Ageing, Authenticity, Character, Conscience, Dignity, sailing, Sex2 Comments

Disclaimer: This is not written in the elaborate, well-thought-out style to which you are accustomed. The writing may falter, but if authenticity is what you like and enjoy, stay tuned. There’s plenty coming!

Goodness! So much for me writing in diary form from now on. Where did I disappear to? How ridiculous! Who am I trying to kid? Gym four times a week, working in the family business part-time, housekeeping, meals, mothering to the kids who both still live at home. On the odd occasion when I have some time to spare, my brain goes to mash and my muses decide to take a nap. I feel so guilty about not making time to write that now even that guilty feeling is hampering my feeble efforts to put pen to paper. As the muscles in my body have begun to develop and become obvious (better late than never, right?), my brain muscle is floppy and reluctant to go into workout mode. Why can’t I do both? I am almost fifty-six, not seventy-six! It is scary shit when you feel the beginning of that decline in your abilities. People always say time flies, but it is never more apparent how fleeting our lives are than when your body’s faculties start to fail.

Anyhow, enough of that depressing stuff. It is Saturday today and one of my kids happens to be on her way to Berlin and the other in the UK. My husband is arriving here today. I am in the Balearic Islands, alone. Doesn’t happen often, so I intend to make the most of it. After 30 years of marriage and twenty-seven of intense parenting, I really look forward to being alone. I look forward to sleeping alone; to not feel that pressure to have sex unless I feel like it; to not have to succumb to the expectations of another. I have relatives who think it is important to keep the other one happy, if you know what I mean. To them I say, f**k that! There is no greater sex than the one that is mutually desired, sought and enjoyed in equal measure. I would rather have those occasions every now and then than fall into routine, dutiful, predictable, and almost mechanical sex. The eternal insurmountable disparity between how men and women perceive what a sexual relationship should be. Who is right and who is wrong? Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn. I know what makes me whole and happy and I am not about to give up decades of brave souls fighting for women’s equality and liberation so that I can keep someone by my side. If they know what is good for them, they’ll stay. If they walk, it is their loss and most certainly my gain as I continue to do ME and retain my integrity, dignity, and joy. Geez, how did I end up talking about sex? It is as good a subject as any, I guess. Well, it is a better subject than most. After all, sex as well as money, or rather greed, makes the world go round and round and round and up and down, up and down. Lol!

It is a bit too windy to go out on the boat today and there is a red alert for a DANA; a Spanish term for a weather phenomenon characterized by a cold, isolated depression at high altitudes. It’s also known as a “cold drop” and is associated with heavy rainfall and potential flooding in Spain and the western Mediterranean. Last Dana in 2024 killed 234 people in Valencia. It was horrific! Right now, the storm is covering a large area in the North of Spain. I am not 100% it will hit the Balearic Islands, but I have been out at sea here when the weather was on the turn and it is not a fun experience. Boat rolling up and down as if going on an endless roller-coaster. No thanks! This links back to what makes me happy. Men like to show off, race each other at sea displaying their small-dick syndrome for all to see. It is all about who has the strongest conviction that they are Kings (of the sea or otherwise) if only for those few minutes they are thrusting their engines to the max. It makes for an extremely uncomfortable passage for the rest of us mere mortals, but their misconceived divinely given right to be adored and admired must be preserved and defended at all costs. Hey Ho, there is always another sunny day on these islands, so no need to fret. I am grateful that I and those whom I love are alive and as well as can be; I have food and drink on my table and my conscience is at peace. I don’t need thrills in my life, and I most certainly don’t need to prove to anyone that my life is worthier or better than theirs. I am just eternally grateful that I still have a life, and I am the only captain at its helm. Happy sailing!

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Stripping it down

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Ageing, Challenges, adversity, Character, courage, Creative Process, Fear, Freedom, Fulfilment, honesty, introspection, Loss, Parenthood, purpose, ramblings, self fulfilment, self-discovery, Selflessness, Strength, WritingLeave a comment

Those who really know me would describe me as a woman of few words, and yet when it comes to writing and self-expression, I have always had plenty to say and been able to simply just let it pour out of me, at least in written form. It is likely the result of going through the process of grieving my parents’ passing and the family breakdown that ensued soon after; compounded by me getting older and living a more routinary life with less peaks and troughs; less volatility and more mundane, repetitive activities. Either way, there is no denying that my creative juices have not been flowing as they used to for a long time now. I am well and truly stuck. As a result, I have decided to simply write about anything and everything. I will write as and when I feel like it without putting pressure on myself to produce the next blogpost. To that effect, I wish to start writing more in the form of diary entries as opposed to laborious pieces with a beginning, a middle and an end, a premise, an argument, and a conclusion. I am now at a stage in my life where I seek simplicity in all things. I know it is a natural progression as we age to seek such tranquillity. Could it be that we subconsciously veer towards what we know is inevitably coming? That way, there are no nasty surprises, no disappointment, just acceptance and an easier ride.

I do not know whether the defeatist stance suits me, though. I am like a bad weed (are there any good ones? lol); the harder you tread on me, the stronger I rise back up. Only, after this last knock, I am truly finding it so much harder. I go to the gym four times a week and on two of those occasions I do two classes back-to-back; all strength-training and cardio based, so I consider myself to be pretty fit for my age. Often, the endorphins kick in and I have a sudden burst of energy which enables me to be incredibly productive in terms of my motherly and business and homeowner duties, but little energy and time is left to focus on the creative side of me, the part of me which lives not according to responsibility and deadlines but rather to self-development and nurturing.

I was raised in an environment where high achievers were the most visible and respected and anyone outside of that category often went unnoticed through the growing up years regardless of their talents, work ethic or dreams. Outstanding results were the be all and end all of a happy, successful life and without those life lacked any purpose or meaning. It is for this reason that as much as I try, there is an overwhelming sense of guilt every time I find myself idle or with any kind of spare time to do what I want or need to feel fulfilled. I am so used to being productive with my time that on the odd occasion when I have that spare time, I fill it with more chores and items to tick off my to do list. Time and time again, I choose responsibility over freedom; tangible results over simply being in the moment, planning, meditating, pondering, dreaming. It is like an out of body experience where someone else takes over and gets it all done in robotic fashion, but where is my soul; what happened to my heart, my spirit? What in all that doing sets me apart from anyone else? What in all that performance defines the essence of ME?

Thank God I have two incredible children into whom I have invested every ounce of my energy: mental, physical, and emotional. They are an evolved extension of me. The work in progress that is me will go on long after I am gone hopefully. But what about me in the here and the now? Becoming and being a parent was a pivotal stage in my life, but what about the rest of my life? Is it selfless to continue investing in them or is it really cowardice preventing me from facing life head on and taking on new challenges? What am I afraid of? Surely, it cannot be failure. I have achieved so much already; been through so much already. I truly could not care less what other people think. What then has such a powerful hold on me; what are the ropes tied around me that are holding me back from venturing forward to new possibilities?

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Love trumps hate but Trump trumps it all

On By aconstanttlearnerIn American Election, Authority, Challenges, adversity, Character, Corruption, Deception, Democracy, EGO, Ethics, False Prophets, Good and Evil, Greed, Human nature, humanity, Integrity, Morality, Narcissism, Politics, Trump, World Order2 Comments

The unthinkable has finally happened. The most progressive country in the world which has always looked down on the rest of the world from a moral high ground has finally been blinded by its vanity, like Narcissus, and lost its moral compass. The pillar upon which sacred values such as democracy, freedom, ethics, equality, and justice have stood for hundreds of years; that lofty blue, red and white pillar, which so proudly stood on that hill beaming its light upon so many other modern, forward nations, has cracked irreparably and collapsed calamitously. That exemplary pillar, that Holy Grail for so many other countries is now a mess of pulverised concrete that is good for nothing; from which nothing can ever be rebuilt with the same fortitude ever again. And yet, who knows? Maybe, just maybe, the world in its cosmic, natural wisdom needs such biblical cataclysm in order to create a better version of itself, like a forest consumed by fire which births its most luscious trees yet from such lifeless ashes. Sometimes the damage is so engrained, so deeply spread, that the only way forward is absolute eradication, and a historical event such as this is the catalyst needed to make it happen.

Humanity has finally reached that inflection point of no return. The sacred lines between good and evil have been erased; the ancient scroll of human dos and don’ts, which hundreds of generations have built their lives upon and which we have always relied on to tell humans apart from animals, has gone up in smoke. We have utterly forsaken thousands of years of world-wide ancient philosophies which are the backbone of modern society as we know it. We have trampled upon the sacrifice that millions of people have made before us so that we could lead lives that honoured truth, goodness, equality, humility, hard work, respect, love, and the best traits that any human is capable of and should strive for during their time on this earth.

It is tragically ironic that it is the very democracy that we so greatly uphold which has led us to this very delicate moment in human history. What hope does the world have, when a nation that has for the most part represented the gold standard of economic success, technological advancement, industrial progress, forward thinking, inclusivity, ethical superiority and freedom, deviates so far from its grass roots and chooses as its ruler a convicted criminal; when a nation exercises its fundamental right to choose and chooses to turn a blind eye to corruption, racism, sexual misconduct, misogyny, xenophobia, bigotry, greed…? The list goes on and on and on. One only has to do a little bit of research online to learn that Trump is a bad apple and the only way to stop rot spreading is to cut it out or it will infect everything and everyone around it.

Whether you are a believer or not, one must acknowledge that the Bible as so many other ancient sacred books, is packed full of wisdom and incredibly practical teachings. One of my favourites is ‘Bad company corrupts good character.’ Oh, how painfully true this is in today’s USA. If a man bypasses his morals to achieve his goals, that man has nothing. If a man bypasses his morals for a more comfortable life, that man has set himself to fail sooner or later. I categorically respect the political views on either side of this monumental divide. I truly do, but when the most powerful nation in the world bypasses its moral standards in order to rapidly secure a more comfortable standard of living, a better economy, a fairer society, more international control, more widespread healthcare, a better defence, etc, is no different to a man who needs a heart transplant to survive and in his desperation chooses to fatally shoot himself in order to make that heart available. A nation voting a criminal into office, refusing to look truth in the eye, openly disregarding impunity, culpability, evidence, justice, is a nation condemned to come undone, condemned to failure and self-destruction.

Worse still is the effect that the decision to put a criminal in such incredibly powerful position will have on the stability of the rest of the world. So many other nations currently observe these apocalyptic events unfold gasping in utter incredulousness, in utter terror. How will the rest of democratic countries, the Western World be able to look evil corrupt world leaders and countries in the eye and exert any kind of influence upon them to prevent further holocausts, genocide, wars, atrocities, when the biggest democracy in the world has put on its pedestal a man who is above justice, above the law, above any kind of morality; a man who says ‘Many people have told me that God spared my life for a reason, and that reason was to save our country and to restore America to greatness, and now we are going to fulfil that mission together.’? Be very wary of a man who starts his mandate, be it on national politics or any other public arena, by saying things along the lines of ‘God told me to….’ Be wary of men who claim to have God’s endorsement to get away with the most heinous of crimes, lies and corruption. Be wary of false prophets; of wolves that come in sheep’s clothing. They are ruthless, they will stop at nothing; they will trample and destroy everything in their way to achieve their goals and they will do it at any cost. They will do it because they know they have come this far and nothing and no one has been able to stop them. They will turn families against families; they will turn society against itself, and they will bring it down on its knees until there is not one person standing.

History is or should be the best teacher, but we are flawed as a species, and we seem unable to retain the lessons already learnt from the past. When we give unfathomable power to an evil man, we are fostering impunity and a free-for-all attitude; we are undermining the human rights which underpin societies and help them thrive and flourish.; we are foolishly and irresponsibly drinking the poisoned chalice that will ultimately bring about our demise.

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IF LEAVES COULD TALK!

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Ageing, Death, Grief, Healing, Human nature, humanity, introspection, life, Light, Loss, Nature, Old Age, Philosophy, purpose, Relationships, Spirit, Spirituality, The Supernatural, UniverseLeave a comment

It is a deliciously vibrant autumnal day in the Southeast of England. Today, I choose to feed my energy, my zest for life from the fresh blood like coloured leaves of my acer tree on the front drive. The rose-tinted tones of my deciduous shrubs fill me with melancholy and the inescapable gut-wrenching reminder that this too shall pass because nothing lasts, not ever.

And yet, as I begin to lose myself in a labyrinth of unending dead ends and twisted paths leading nowhere, there stands proud in front of my window the mighty oak with its blazing-fire leaves as eyes; eyes that dig right into my soul letting me know that no matter how brief our imprint on this earth is, what we say matters, what we do matters, what we do not do matters, how we listen or whether we listen so, so matters. There is permanence in our ephemeral existence because our existence has a cause and an effect. It irreparably initiates a chain of events that will affect generations to come, whether blood-related or not. Make no mistake, a simple word of advice, a caution, a reprimand, an ‘I hear you’ can alter the course of events in a person’s life and on an on will every other person that comes into contact with them be affected directly or indirectly by that one word, gesture, acknowledgement, rejection, hate or love.

My mind cannot comprehend that it is almost two years since my parents both passed away within two days of each other. Two years. I have realised a lot of things in that time. The power that we hold to better or destroy another person’s life does not die with us. It lives on. We are spiritually connected by invisible sturdy threads to those we related to whilst living. Even in their passing that thread is maintained. It is a thread that can become weaker, but when you least expect it or when you most need it, you feel it tagging at you; letting you know there is a presence at the other side of it. Whether that presence is a welcome or unwanted presence in your life, depends on whether your bond to that person was one of reciprocal love or one of hate; one of humility or pride, one of compassion, empathy, and forgiveness or one of judgement and condemnation.

Even the dead brown leaves on the ground have a vital story to tell in their impermanence. Indeed, they feed the soil that will give birth and growth to new trees. Is it any wonder we are inextricably connected to nature, that our spirit craves its presence in our lives like our bodies crave the enveloping comfort of a roaring fire on a chilly winter’s night? The story of our life is impregnated in each leaf. And just as the leaves go on to feed life whilst dead, so do those whom we loved or despised and are no longer with us.

One word can change the course of history. Indeed, it has so many times. My word to you today is: SYNTONIZE.

THEN DEATH COMES ALONG…

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Uncategorized2 Comments

So here I am again, trying so desperately to write a few words, but these days there is a big black cloud hanging over me and nothing can blow it away, ever. Death has finally come into my life. God, just writing those words feels so fateful, so final, so oppressive. I have always been amazed that for one reason or another, at the age of 53 I had been fortunate enough to not lose anyone close to me. Yes, I had lost relatives and acquaintances, but being related to someone does not automatically guarantee a close bond, respect, trust, or love for that person. Most people I know had lost someone close to them much, much earlier than me. As you know, if you are a regular reader, I lost both my parents in the space of three days at the end of 2022, and only a month ago, I lost my mother-in-law. Life has a cruel way of keeping us honest and humble. Dream but do not dream too big for this too shall pass and the wheel of time will inevitably render it insignificant and abandoned to oblivion, no matter how relevant or essential it was for a fleeting moment in the course of history.

We live and hope through the eyes of social media filters, cosmetic surgery, fitness fixes, alcohol, Botox, or anything that deceives us into thinking we will remain perpetually young. Then, one fine day, we lose someone very close and experience a rude awakening when we remember we are all dying anyway, not because with each day that goes by we get older and draw nearer to that dreaded end, but because with each loss we experience another huge part of ourselves dies in the process, until there is so little left that we wonder what is the point of going on anyway.

I do not know who I am if I am not my mother and my father’s daughter. I am here and I am everything I am because of them and without them it feels like I am not myself anymore. A grief counsellor reading this will conclude I am still deep in the grieving process, but the truth is this beating ache is not circumstantial or temporary. I know I will feel like this for the rest of my life. Our identity comprises of so many parts; so many sides to our story that complete the whole picture, but at the core of each of our stories whether we like it or not, is our parents. They dictate our DNA, our personalities, our looks, our fears, our addictions, our dreams.

Their joy was my joy.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day in Spain. Had my mother still been alive, I would have sent her a lovely bouquet of flowers to let her know she is forever present in my life, even though I live thousands of miles away from her. Now it is her and my dad who live thousands of miles away from me in a not yet discovered universe, but live they do. The void they have left behind is as strong as their presence in my inner most being. There are so many facets of me that are them. Where they go, I go too. Is it any wonder then that when they stopped being, so did I?

Safe travels Ama. Fly high, fly free!
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Back to the drawing board

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Acceptance, Character, Confinement, consumerism, courage, Exercise, Fitness, Freedom, Fulfilment, Grief, Healing, honesty, humanity, introspection, Life's Choices, Mental Health, Narcissism, Relationships, self fulfilment, self-discovery, Selfishness, Sex, Social Media, twitter, Uncategorized, Vanity, wisdom5 Comments

It is a miserable Saturday afternoon here in the Southeast of England. It is very wet and dull. Just writing the word miserable fills me with shame. How often we complain about the insignificant things that are hugely significant? We complain about the rhythms of nature that balance out the delicate equation that the environment is. We moan about the rain when rain is the answer to so many people’s desperate prayers. We complain about the sun’s scorching heat when others’ whole livelihoods are solely dependent upon such treasure. So many of us have it all, but blinded by so much stuff and privilege, we fail to see what is missing in our life.

Well, I am turning my sense of entitlement and shallowness on its head. It is thanks to such dire weather that I find myself writing once again after months of an absolute inability to put pen to paper. Whilst I am still grieving my parent’s loss, I am beginning to come through the other side of that tunnel a little bit freer, wiser, and a lot fitter.

There have been two major shifts in my life since my parents passed away. I have started going to the gym and I no longer have any social media accounts or live my life through other people’s social media. I know, you must be thinking: ‘Big deal’. Trust me, it is huge!

Not only had I never set foot in a gym before; I detested gym culture and had zero time for those who bragged, or so I thought, about their exploits at the gym. As far as I was concerned, gyms were stages where statuesque, divinely toned individuals strutted their stuff and got their daily fix of adoration and admiration by like-bodied individuals. I perceived gyms as prisons of the self, as hell holes where egos gorged on further aggrandisement and self-veneration; gutters where altruism, empathy, compassion were thrusted out and vanity, selfishness and narcissism were pumped up; traps where the weak were drawn to in order to be judged disdainfully by the far superior breeds. Everything about gyms shouted addiction, misplaced pride, discrimination, judgement.

During the last two years I have gradually introduced exercise in my life. A like-minded individual I met through twitter encouraged me to do the ‘Couch to 5k’ challenge. It is an online app which guides you step by step to run five miles at the end of a few weeks’ training. This is for absolute beginners, which I was. It was really gruelling work but eventually after having a few breaks and having to re-start the challenge a few times, I persevered and completed it. I went from having my heart in my mouth after just one minute of running, to actually running for half an hour on a fairly steady breath. I went from counting the seconds in every minute wishing for it to be over to being in the zone and embracing the freedom, the release, the joy that results from body and mind being at one with each other.

As with any exercise and specially seeing as I had started at 52, I did suffer an injury and eventually I had to stop running and look for a lower impact exercise routine which gave me the same cardio value but did not destroy my body one impactful stride at a time. I moved onto the cross trainer. That became my new religion. Three times a week I went into my garden shed and did a workout on my cross trainer. I gradually increased the length and the intensity of such workouts. After my parents passed, I simply could not find the motivation to do anything that involved any considerable effort. They were no longer around and so my mojo and my raison d’etre ebbed away with them, so this shift to having the drive to regularly commit to an exercise regime was monumental.

Call it Providence or the stars aligning in my favour, but around that time my daughter had just joined a gym and had been on at me to come along and see for myself how incredibly uplifting and energising her sessions were. My daughter is my guardian angel as I am hers. We get each other. We have each other’s backs. We trust each other completely. Not many people one can say that about in life. Certainly not me. During my workouts on the cross trainer, I often posted pictures of my body on twitter as a witness of my progress and the fitness challenges conquered. Those pictures got a lot of attention and compliments. Sometimes, attention came from the wrong sort who were just out to get their kicks and feed their sexual desires. There were even some devious individuals who went as far as complimenting me about my blog, my writing in order to get close to me; to make sexual advances at me. It beggars belief but that is what social media has turned a lot of people into. It is a free for all. No accountability; no rules; no transparency; no moral compass. What happens behind the screen stays behind the screen. Only, it does not! Social media has become one of the most dangerous tools which when falling on the wrong hands can pulverise a life with one single click of the mouse.

All that attention on social media, most of it unsavoury, made me realise that actually feeling good on the inside more often than not goes hand in hand with looking and feeling good on the outside, at least feeling and looking good according to your own standards. One fine morning I finally decided to go along to the gym with my 25-year-old daughter. We did a SH’BAM class which in hindsight I realise was an incredibly bold move on my part having never even set foot in a gym. I absolutely loved it and decided there and then, I would become a regular member at that gym. A year later I attend classes 3 to 4 days a week and some days I do two classes back-to-back. I have done most things now: Body Attack, Les Mills Grit Strength, Total Body Workout, Free Style Aerobics, Body Jam, Pilates, Body Balance, Body Pump, etc.

Nurturing my mental health through exercise is really working for me right now and has helped me immensely to pull through the grieving process. However, like any other practice or habit that makes us feel so good, fitness can easily become an addiction that prevents us from nurturing other important parts of ourselves like our emotional and spiritual wellbeing. Often, we assume that one goes hand in hand with the other but that is not necessarily so. My current fitness regime takes a lot of time from me and whilst that time is very well invested, I am neglecting other things that make be balanced and happy, my writing for example. I want my fitness regime to propel me to a more well-rounded, more positive me and not to become a shelter that prevents me from actually living. A little bit of chaos, breaking the rules and opening yourself up to the unexpected will always trump a life of perfect order, monotony and letting precious days pass you by.

As for quitting all social media, that is one of the best decisions I have ever made. Creating an environment where we have all normalised ‘making love or war’ with people whom we know nothing about and who know nothing about us is one of the most stupid things the human race has ever produced. All that time and energy wasted on futile attempts to convince ourselves and others that we matter. It is often believed that the next generation is able to correct the mistakes of the previous one and to bring about measures to prevent those same mistakes being made. Social media is not one of them. We have reinvented the wheel, but this wheel is simply not fit for purpose and is in fact destroying our ability to relate to and communicate with other human beings, as we sit alone blinded and in judgement behind screens that act as mirrors reflecting back what we want or need to see or hear.

It has been a while since I last wrote and I am aware that because of it many of my regulars may have given up on me in terms of checking my blog. If you happen to still be here, I would be grateful for any comments that can start a conversation or simply give me feedback. I am grateful for any and all comments. There are also a handful of people I met through social media and through this blog who I’d like to hear from as I miss those specific interactions. Again, if you are there, do drop me a line or two.

Be well, be kind, look after yourself and above all be present, live in the moment.

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Bring me back to life – Part 1

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Ageing, Betrayal, Challenges, adversity, Character, Conscience, courage, Criticism, Death, Disappointment, Empathy, Grief, Hate, Healing, honesty, Human nature, introspection, Judgement', Karma, life, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Old Age, Pain, parenthood, pride, Relationships, Sibling rivalry15 Comments

My regular readers must be wondering why I have taken so long to write again. The answer is unbearably painful in its simplicity and permanence: I lost both my parents over four months ago. My mum died on Christmas Day and my father less than 48 hours after. My father was eighty-seven and had various illnesses but was doing OK. He deteriorated rapidly on the last two weeks before his death. I am so grateful his frailest state was short-lived and that he only had to spend one week in a nursing home. I am even more grateful that he did not endure those achingly lonely moments without my mother for very long. In the foggy midst of his Alzheimer’s, we were blessed with endearing moments of lucidity, like the time when three of my four siblings had moved him to the nursing home and the next day, looking out of the window in his forebodingly spare and lifeless room, he said to my husband and I: ‘This is not such a bad place to live, is it?’. Even in his most vulnerable moment, he was father first and foremost, ensuring our pain was lessened by his make-believe reassurance. It was a sobering and humbling moment; one I will never forget. My father led by example until his last breath. He was far from perfect, but he never demanded or expected anything from us he had not practised himself first. He has set the bar really high for us, in life and in death. His unwavering sense of duty, responsibility, and leadership to his family lives now within me and I hope I can be to my kids half the inspirational figure he has been to me.

Entrenched on my memory like a knife to the heart is also that agonising moment when my siblings took him to the nursing home whilst I remained at home with my mum in readiness for her life-threatening surgery the next day to remove a malignant tumour in her liver. My siblings were so incredibly overwhelmed by the unbearable task at hand that in their haste to make my father’s transition from his home to the nursing home, they neglected to allow my mum to say goodbye to my dad. My heart teared further apart when I looked in my mother’s eyes and saw the unforgiving sadness as she realised that she might never see her lifetime companion of over 65 years again. As it turned out, the surgery was in vain; the tumour was inoperable and two days after surgery she developed a perforated intestine which killed her. She was 80 years old. Three months before her death my mum began experiencing excruciating pain on her right-hand side, below her rib cage. Initially, after countless tests, the doctors told her that she had an infection in her gall bladder, but it gradually emerged that that was only the beginning of the end. Three days before her death, we all had hope that she would recover, and she would live on to tell the tale. Three days before her death, her and I laughed together, joked together, hoped together.

It all happened so fast, and it did not help matters that those three of my four siblings turned against me towards the very end like hyenas hunting as a merciless pack. They deeply resented me for living abroad and in their words ‘having abandoned my family’, which was all the more devastating to hear bearing in mind my husband and I took my parents with us on holidays all over the world around 17 times, which none of those three siblings ever did, not even once. Asides that, I am aware that it is primarily during those times when my family and I visited my hometown in Spain that the whole family gathered together for lunch or an outing. As far as I am aware, my parents never got taken out by those three siblings all that much outside of those times when we were visiting. I will never recover from witnessing and suffering first-hand the monster within that can surface in people when they are undergoing immense pressure or pain. I became the punch bag for all three, specially one of them and the verbal and written punches did not stop coming until I was breathless, almost lifeless on the floor. The pain of losing the love, trust, and belief in my integrity of my three siblings was far greater at the time than the pain of losing both my parents unexpectedly in the space of 48 hours. That gives an idea of the intensity and shock, the hatred I was exposed to by those who should have been the most supportive at such a time, in such tragic circumstances. Even today, almost five months later, I cannot comprehend how love can turn into such hate in such a short space of time. The only explanation my mind entertains is that it was never love to begin with, and that realisation pierces me all the more, even today, probably forever.

I spent 9 days with both my parents prior to my mum’s surgery. I would be with them from 8:30 am til 11:00 pm. I would then go to a nearby hotel to get some rest and fuel up the tank to be at my best for the next day. No point in staying each night with them, I figured, and be exhausted from the beginning of the day ending up having them look after me. It made absolute sense to me and yet that is one of the issues my siblings took up with me, even though every time they had stayed the night, they whined about how that position was unsustainable and how we needed to get extra paid help to look after my parents during the nights. What was not sustainable or acceptable for them to keep doing, soon became their choice of punishment for me for my intermittent absence of 32 years. They looked for any excuse to criticise me, bully me and badmouth me to my mother who was already dying. The viciousness of their insults grew all the more aggressive and unforgivable the day I finally left to go back to the UK. To this day, I am still devastated that three of my siblings with whom I have always had a great relationship; whom I loved unconditionally could throw me to the gallows at the first hurdle, no trial, no innocent til proven guilty; just pure hatred and pain projected onto me as if I was the cause of my parents’ illness and tragic end.

Living in a different country to that I grew up in til the age of twenty, has always been incredibly challenging for me, because I have no family here in the UK other than my husband and kids. I come from a large family in Spain, and so the last 33 years I have missed so many incredibly happy times back home, some sad, not many. The truth is, however, I have a full life in the UK; a life that makes me happy; I have a family, a business, a home. I know my parents wanted me to be happy, fulfilled, and at peace. I know they never resented me for not being there. If anything, I am convinced they have always been so incredibly proud that I was courageous enough to travel at a youthful age and brave enough to give up everything and everyone I knew to move to another country for love. Throughout those 33 years, I have tried to see them as much as I could; I have tried to keep the balance right between raising a family to the best of my ability thousands of miles away; nurturing a marriage which has been very challenging at times and helping make a business successful, but also keeping in touch with all my family back in Spain. It is a very delicate balance but, in my heart, I know with certainty and confidence that my parents would have wished for me to put my own family first, specially since I had four other siblings who lived so close to them. It is a much more complex issue than what I recount here but for the sake of brevity, I will leave it at that. I could write a book on this sorrow episode of my life and who knows, when the time is right, maybe I will.

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A river of tears

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Anxiety, Butterfly, Challenges, adversity, Character, Conscience, courage, Death, Dread, Fear, Freedom, Fulfilment, honesty, life, Life's Choices, Morals, Negativity, Pain, Philosophy, purpose, Rebellion, Sacrifice, self fulfilment, Self love, self-discovery, Selfishness, Selflessness, Spirit, Stoicism, Strength, The meaning of life20 Comments

She sat there feeling defeated, sipping her coffee whilst listening to Massimo Viazzo’s ‘River Flows in you’. The irony of the title of that piece, she thought, her mind filled with visions of a life that flowed like a river: weightless, spontaneous, vibrant, free. Her spirit, however, laid so arid, almost inert gasping for droplets of hope that would then merge and cause her existence to effortlessly flow into a vast sea of yet unopened doors and passageways she felt inexplicably drawn to. By the age of 20, Esperanza had already travelled to USA, UK, Australia, and most of Europe. What happened to me? she thought. At what point in my life did I begin to regress; did I allow my hopes to be rudely replaced by all my fears?

Tears running down her face, sobbing, unable to hold it all in any longer. Maybe ‘Cry me a river’ would have been more apt, she laughed begrudgingly, maybe the purpose of all these tears is to empty out til there is nothing left. Maybe then and only then, she consoled herself, I will experience an epiphany provoked by the avalanche of the mountain of all my tears drowning out my sorrows, and the impact will be of such magnitude that it will force me to finally metamorphose into the butterfly that laid dormant all these years. Hope by name, Hope by nature. Hope was undeniably all she had left.

The problem was that when hope visited, it never came into Esperanza’s consciousness alone. She always arrived holding a mixed bag of responsibilities, a good conscience, a sense of loyalty and all the other laudable attributes we admire on others but know fully well stop us from living the life we really feel we were born to live. What an impossible mix of emotions she had been dealt. How does one live knowing they are sacrificing their dream for a peaceful conscience, when it is that very dream that helps us push on, take another step, breathe life and positivity into those under our care? How does one ingest a poisoned chalice being fully aware that the very act of salvation is irrevocably and simultaneously mired in condemnation?

The conundrum of whether life is an act of selflessness or selfishness kept her awake at night and riddled with anxiety in the day. Her mind told her one thing but oh how her robust beating heart told her quite another. She knew complete peace and stillness would only come when she breathed her final breath. And yet there was far too much joie de vivre in her to surrender into her fate just yet. This agonising battle of what’s right and what is meant was ironically the fuel that fired her soul; a quest for the hidden treasure she was determined to fulfill til she found an answer; even if it turned out it wasn’t the answer she had hoped for all along. Taking on that unthinkable gamble is what gave meaning and purpose to her life but it was also what was killing her restless spirit one bellicose day at a time.

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Life is a messy affair!

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Acceptance, Ageing, Anxiety, Cosmic Justice, Death, Disappointment, Fear, Human nature, humanity, humility, Instinct, introspection, life, Life's Choices, Loss, Pain, Philosophy, purpose, Stoicism, The meaning of life8 Comments
Photo courtesy of my son

It always throws me out of kilter how we live life with such breathless intensity, with such a sense of self-importance. We strain and strive to seek purpose and we convince ourselves that we are the movers and the shakers, that the entire world will cease to be, should we stop to actually take a deep breath and savour the act of simply being alive. And yet, at a moment’s notice all that relevance, meaning and feeling that we are right where we are meant to be, comes crumbling down, is pulverised when we learn about the passing of another or their terminally ill diagnosis.

I had such news about an old friend this morning, and quite frankly, I am shocked to the core. I mean, I am a fairly positive, driven person who is industrious and eager to make life better for those around me, those dependant on me, and at various stages of my life also for strangers in need. My life makes complete sense. I am on a journey, and I am increasingly aware that to every beginning there is an inherently tragic end, but nothing prepares you for the sense of weightlessness, irrelevance even, that the news of someone’s sudden, unexpected death inundates us with.

Humans are desperately born into an existential dilemma; and unsolvable equation: in order for our lives to be maximised, to garner the utmost sense and purpose, common sense forces us to become selfish, self-absorbed, limited in our sight. We choose a lane in our journey, and we stick with it, because we know a race is only truly won if we focus primarily on what is around us, if we persevere to the end. And yet, living that way equates to applying a tight blindfold on ourselves. We enter a period of denial about our rightful place in the universe, about our irrelevance when confronted with the bigger picture. Is it safe or even ethical to live any other way, though? Can we truly live if we are permanently aware and reminded of our own finiteness? Wouldn’t that be the same nonsensical behaviour as barricading our own exceedingly small window of opportunity to live in the moment, to savour every breath, every experience enjoyed or hoped for? When I heard the news of our friend who has had a severe brain bleed and whose prognosis, if he comes round, is to live the rest of his life in a vegetative state, my sense of self just went up in smoke. What is this absurd game called life that we put every fibre of our being into taking part in and winning, if that elusive higher power can just arbitrarily and abruptly throw us out of the game? What is the point of even playing if our odds overwhelmingly point to losing before we get to the end that we strived and hoped for? Numb in my kitchen in my family’s presence, time stopped, and I felt as if I were standing in front of a mirror, but I could see nothing. No before, no now, no tomorrow. Nothing, just a fleeting shadow embodying a gradually intangible lifetime. What is the point of it all if after all the striving, the worry, the suffering, the fear, we can just seamlessly go from being the masters of our universe to the dust in someone else’s journey?