Good times…

Let the good times roll.

So lovely to be in loving company. Feeling warm, fuzzy and happily hazy. So nice to be a little girl again, attended to and loved.

Re writing my skewed childhood in my 40s.

Why not?

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Drrrrained

Thank God I’m going out tonight. Hoping to find some positive energy to turn that down pression toward light and sun.

Winter is seeming to drain the life blood out of me.

This week feels like its put alot of us on the back foot

Days are hard and night seems to be the most inviting. Itching for unconsciousness to take me far away.

Ofsted under the brand spanking new framework put the whole school on heightened alert and tension.

Failing hot water drove me and the kids to biting one liners, filling up kettles and buckets with boiling water, incessant moaning and endless calls to the Council.

Proving I should retain child benefit that my ex is trying to take from me, find witnesses for an oncoming court case and fight for benefits that are my Right: enveloped me in mounds of hard, unsympathetic, blank, crackling, white paper – the canvass for hard evidence, I Must Find.

This is too hard.

It’s All on me.

4 hours of driving each day in a derelict car that needs daily top ups of water and oil filled me with exhausted numbness.

Couldn’t even write a blog. Couldn’t enunciate the sadness fog.

Can’t even find it in me to care if the Conservatives get in again, or look forward .. .

Exams Kill.

I have some beautiful students.

Beautiful souls. Eager, delicate, in need of gentle guidance.

We debate, we reveal parts of our personalities, we experience time together…growing older together. Appreciating genius words, colliding with notions, crashing into history and showering us with emotion.

Don’t think for a second that my classroom is idyllic- it’s far from it. I get seriously wound up and so do they. I admit I’m a smothering Matriarch.

But it’s safe. I really work hard to make it emotionally safe.

Until we had to do out first assessment today configured loosely around GCSE exams.

Some of them literally crumbled before my eyes. They wilted. The stress was palpable and they’re 2 years off the real thing!

As teachers we act as a conduit for the extreme expectations of the management. The kids feel our intense burden of how do their books look, are they making adequate progress, are they engaging enough…how that makes Us look.

The current education system makes us care about our career and professional prowess over forming young minds.

It’s agonising to watch. Supremely painful to watch their bravado, their insight, their brilliant inference meld into a quivering wreck.

My bouncy, intuitive student couldn’t find a word to put to paper: despite my empathetic nudges, she had to leave the room, cry and tell me how much she cant cope with getting it wrong. I told her to chill and read a book.

Another boy, spent the whole lesson in sick bay after some sorry attempts of mine to prompt him.

So many students couldn’t remember their quotes and were flummoxed. Any hurdle tripped them up.

Others needed constant reminding sentence by sentence after weeks of prep.

We talk about building robust future citizens. I think this new exam heavy curriculum is creating a massive chasm of the haves and have nots.

The few who can do tests and the many who find the order too tall.

Yes I learnt some important pointers today about their low self esteem and the need to practise the complex requirements of exams in tiny swallowable chunks.

But this kind of pressure definitely takes the joy out of Learning.

Broken

I am with my dear friend.

Have you ever felt like the broken you can only reveal itself in front of very special people?

I don’t even reveal this self to me.

Somehow, the honesty and realness of this connection means the painful stuff just oozes out.

I find myself behaving in strange ways that I don’t recognise…from the strong,independent, black, conscious, single mother I have been told I am.

I find myself filled with fear, a little girl, a baby sucking my thumb, I’m scared of being used, I’m scared to voice my feelings, I’m trembling to say ‘no, I don’t want this’.

Somehow, connecting with this traumatised child inside me is healing me, piece by piece.

Hearing her, holding her, accepting her is eschewing a new serenity.

Thank you Nikolas.

Free at forty…

I had the best night last night.

Just what I needed after a terrifying session at court and drowning in yet more admin around future court cases, benefits,police requests and the like.

Hanging with great people who were foot loose,fancy free and forty plus!!!

Just like me…

I must say…as a recent divorcee with children to care for, life is taking off,taking shape, taking me….

I love it.

I love picking and choosing, musing, ignoring whatever I want with no one to answer to. No muse, mentor, oppressive authority figure.

Just me and my conscience.

It’s invigorating and enlightening to learn how capable I am, with none of those voices of the past telling me how incapable I am.

It’s the best high to see my children slowly coming to life as I am too: resurrected from the religious prison we were dying in.

And it’s super special to bond with other single parents living, loving and hurtling toward our 50s.

The conversation richocheted from cows methane, to fatherly roles,to mixed race politicking, to work stress to mental health to …laughter reigned.

All over Malaysian delectable and wine. Cheers to the first of many.

Blessed bonding.

My babies…

Yes I’m proud of my achievements and of course the phenomenal contribution of my Black South African brothers to Victory…

But I just need to take a minute and remember the amazing contribution to humanity of my children…

They have been through so much as I walk this journey of abuse, depression, homelessness and recovery.

Yet they’re strength of character literally confounds me…

My daughter’s passion for trampolining humbles me. Her dedication and resolve to improve is the stuff of Great athletes.

The way she and my son care for her therapy rabbits brings out the loving, caring side that they’ve buried for years, to protect themselves in an abusive home and church.

The conscientious way my son tutors his pupil Maths and English is so inspirational. He is finding his voice and learning to speak up and that’s a massive achievement. The way he happily and enthusiastically sorts all things electronic and gadget like in the home- is a massive support as a new single mum! It’s the way he shows love.

They’re moving on and I’m so proud…

In time I hope my eldest son and I will be close again. I hope…

But We Are moving on…

Rabbit’s Christmas dinner.
My daughter’s cookies!!!!

Well done me!

I celebrated my achievements with ‘All of Me’ to quote a Billie Holiday classic.

Yes me and some fried bread, bacon,runny poached eggs and salad…soon to become part of me!!!

I celebrate:

Escaping a cult by the skin of my teeth

Protectingmyself from nearly 2 decade abusive relationship with the help of Judges,police, social workers and the like

Doing EVERYTHING in my physical, emotional, spiritual power to heal my kids

Cutting out people who make me doubt my intuition

Moving away from people who my soul is squashed by

Initiating with good souls who care

Fighting for my mental well being whatever that means on that day

Getting benefits when my ex prevented it and people around me doubted it

Working as an English teacher

Getting back into grass roots activism

Starting this blog and the chance to speak out on any ting!!!!

Trusting Myself!!

Please share what you celebrate about YOU XXXXXXX

Live in Hope

Feeling a serious bout of sadness today after having to relive traumas infront of a police camera yesterday…

The feeling is indescribable… like the wind has been taken out of my sails… the smile wiped off my face… sensed numbed, sensibilities erased…

A walking emptiness….

I tell myself I have to ride this… Wait it out… feel the pain of abuse…

Don’t deny myself this agony…

So the healing that I crave is whole and true and thorough

I live in hope… and those fluffy PJs I bought on Monday are coming in handy…a physical, soft, cushioned, fluffy, comfort.

Finally threw out my abusers PJs… it took me this long🙄

Like my soul knew what I needed when I cancelled everything on Monday to go PJ shopping…

Listen to your soul…