Hats

There is a lovely, little place in my head that remains forever muddled. That is because it is the real me. I don’t mind being a bit muddled. But lately, it has become a thing.

On the outside I have a great husband, a beautiful daughter and another baby on the way. I am a teacher taking time off to raise my kids. I am a mother, a wife, a daughter, an in-law, a sister. I am a lot of things I didn’t use to be.

I used to be just a girl trying to figure it all out. Just me, on my own. Responsible for just myself. And that muddled, little place that was the real me was still a little hard to figure out, but I think I was getting there. But lately, all these other hats have made it even trickier to get to that little part that is the old me. So forgive me if sometimes I don’t act like I used to.
It’s just that I am finding my way past all the hats.

Resilience and Fairy Dust.

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I have to share a lesson I learned from my two and three quarter year old daughter about being resilient. Tales from the Beehive is not supposed to be a gushy mummy blog.  Bees On Skis is there for that.  But this is the lesson anyway….

I am bold, but yet completely afraid of rejection.  Paradox, I know, but we established all that at the beginning…I am a mad mix of everything opposite.

This is what has kept me away from writing for so long.  This fear has kept me from sharing anything at all (except blog posts!) with anyone.  I don’t know why I am like this.  The people around me in my life now are the most supportive and encouraging, and yet, I still can’t find the courage to just release my words to someone who will judge them.

My daughter.  She is resilient.  I am in awe of this aspect of her personality.

The other day, she walked up to a little boy at a party and told him (with her gorgeous smile), “Hello.  Do you want to be my friend?  I can be your friend, if you like.”  No fear that this little boy was going to reject her at all.  No shyness or worry.  No nothing.  Just a pure offering of herself in friendship because she really believes that she is a good friend.  I can’t even do that at thirty three years old!

Another day, she said to me after nursery, “Mamma, we have to see Nicholas soon.  I really think he is missing me.”  She just assumes her importance in the world and her importance to people and I think it is something to learn from.  She values herself and what she has to give to herself, her friends and her family.

I know this is all innocent toddler talk, but there is something in it that I have forgotten along the way.  I would like to learn again the resilience I have tried to nurture in her.

And also, she thinks she is magic when she wears her fairy wings.

Maybe I need a pair of my own…..

The one where she realised the beginning of a truth…..

I did start writing yesterday.  And it felt great, kind of.

And then I read this post by Autumn.  It was about being authentic and being yourself and letting it all shine out, even if you might not please everyone with the outcome.  And I wondered if I too was writing what I think people wanted to read about.  A story that had a good plot and interesting characters and those kinds of things that check boxes.

Autumn wondered if writing was best coming from a raw, gritty place deep inside.  From the things we don’t let out or let shine in case of offending others.  It was a great post and really struck something inside me.

There is a reason I started writing in the first place.  I was once a lonely, scared eleven year old girl who felt invisible.  I had a home life that felt out of control and the only safe place was my room, with my pen and a notebook.  Writing was the only way out of a life that I didn’t really think I was destined for.  I wanted more and I wanted out.  So I wrote about the person I wanted to be and the life I wanted to live.  I wanted to be far away from the sadness and the anger at my home.  Writing was my way of coping with everything else that was out of my hands.

I guess I did escape it all, but in the process lost the real part of my writing.  As soon as I was “happy”, then I stopped writing about the raw stuff that made me write in the first place.

If i find the spirit of the girl who started writing in the first place, I might be able to access what I need to be writing about.  It might be amazing, but it might not be the kind of thing that everyone (by this I mean, my family) will want to read.

But I said I would try not to be a people pleaser any more and I guess this is part of the way forward.

So, back to the drawing board I go.  See you in a few…

Getting it all down!

I have had an idea for a story to write.  Actually two different ideas.

Now why am I so afraid to open a document or a notebook and write something down?  It seems so huge.  A mountain I just can’t get a foothold on.  I know I need to take little baby steps.  Maybe plan a character, sketch out a story map.  This time it isn’t like a blog post where I can sort of ramble on, it just feels too official.  This is how I felt when I started my dissertation….but by supervisor helped me break it down into smaller steps and then checked to see if I was doing them.  It worked for me.  Someone checking in to see what I was up to and kicking my butt when they thought my writing needed it.  Maybe it is deadlines that I need. Oh and someone to kick my butt.  Still working on that one.

Dwritewords has suggested that I do Camp Nanowrimo….(thank you for sharing that!) and I think I will.  Deadlines may work for me.  Now that I have some ideas about what I want to write about, I could make it happen by the end of the month.  I will have to admis that t won’t be perfect and it might even suck, but I will never get better at writing if I just keep thinking about it and never doing it!

Off to fill out my profile!  Yet another way to procrastinate “real”writing!  Tee hee hee.

The one where she was flawed and it was okay.

Today I want to be accepted as the flawed human being that I am.

Little Bee is allowed to be her 2 years and 9 months old self…with her tantrums, and her wanting to “do it by myself” and then spilling it everywhere, and her bursts of tears when she drops her Bedtime Baby over the side of the bed, and her not wanting to share her snacks or her toys and being so tired after a day in the sun that she just collapses in a heap of tears on my lap before bed, wailing, “It’s been a long day, Mama, and I am too tired to sleep!”…and there isn’t even any need to forgive her or allow her because all these things mean that she is just doing her job as a human.  She is learning and growing and changing.  Just as she should.

When is the cut off point?  Apparently there is a point when we are all supposed to be done with the growing.  When we are all supposed to be in good moods all of the time, patient, kind to every living being, never snapping, and of course never frustrated!  If we are upset, we shouldn’t show it, we should deal with it in a quiet and sensible way.  And definitely no tantrums.

I can’t do it.  I just can’t.

I am just not able to be calm and collected all the time.  I freak out, I worry, I am too blunt with people, I cry a bunch, I am selfish,  I feel guilty about so many things, and I am very moody and yes, I go to that angry place and yell a bit too.  If the world doesn’t allow me to be this way, then I can’t share all the wonderful things about me either.  My passion for the people I love and the work that I do, my loyalty, my creativity, my kindness and my quirky, a little nutty and completely cheerful side.

If you let me be flawed and if I let me be flawed, and if I can let it all gush instead of trying to be sensible and quiet, then maybe my gifts will come tumbling out too.

Good Girls

In my dreams I was a cool, daring girl who said no to the teacher and went on wild and exciting adventures.  I vowed to myself that when I grew up, when I could escape, I would be that girl.

I wanted to disobey the rules but I just couldn’t.  I don’t even know why?  Was I worried that all of a sudden someone would punish me?  Yes, I guess I was.  People who follow rules are somehow praised by parents and teachers and all the people who influence our early life.  All I wanted was for people to praise me and tell me that I was a good girl.  Good Girl, Nice Girl.  Follow all the rules and use perfect punctuation.

And so I grew into a Nice Girl.  I am sort of interesting and quirky, but never enough to tip the boat.  I guess I am afraid I might fall out into that big mass of water…the unknown.  The unwritten.  I want to be out there, swimming in the ocean, but every time I try, I end up clinging to the boat, afraid that once I jump in, I won’t be able to swim.

Maybe the water will be so beautiful, I may never need the boat again……Maybe punctuation doesn’t matter as much.  As I thought. It did.