christmas 01:07:25 on Tuesday, December 23 2008

Are you ready for it? I'm not! I am more ready than I was when I got up this morning, but less ready than I would like to be. There has been so much to do - work included, and the balance has been wavering and I feel behind with all too many things - including Christmas.

My resolution (one of them) for next year, is to pace myself a bit better, keep on top of things by quietly getting on with it and prioritising and not getting distracted by "stuff". We are all surrounded by distractions all of the time and that aint going to change any time soon - media - commersialism - internet - tittle tattle of all sorts. However, even if we can't change what's going on all around, we can change our responses to it, and I for one know that I will do myself a massive favour if I narrow my gaze and concentrate more on the relevant things and not the nonsense.

Relevant: Springback, friendship, family, and me. The here and now, and preparation for the future. Health and happiness. Living according to my value system.

Not so relevant: Everything else.

spring cottage 00:55:10 on Tuesday, December 23 2008

You know those houses you draw when you are a child... front door in the middle. with roses growing around the door, four windows, symmetrical... welcome to spring cottage.

I have a very special little home, and I love it. It's a wooden cottage, in an ancient village. In the cottage, beams are abundant (as well as the inevitable cobwebs they attract). Through the front door you come straight into the sitting room - two fireplaces, one at each end. It spans the width of the house, and half is sitting room / fireside / tv etc and the other half is dining table space. Step down two steps and you are in the back of the cottage, the kitchen and bathroom (and more beams and crooked walls and ceilings). Through the back door (or dog flap if your name is Billy) you step down again into the lean-to potting shed, and then out into the garden which is a generous size and leads down to the stream and views across the fields.

Upstairs, my study is the large landing area and it is wonderful (mind your head on sloping ceilings under the eaves!) The two bedrooms are a good size and height, and throughout the first floor, the floors are wooden (and wonky).

Spring Cottage is a listed building and a precious place. In my previous two homes of my own I have seemingly gotten the three-year-itch, sold up and moved on. I've been here just over two years, and I suspect I won't be itching any time soon. At least I hope not.

Old buildings present there own set of headaches - the ocasional crumbling wall, areas of poor insulation, dodgy guttering - the list goes on. But no matter what, this is where I lay my head. This is my home. My castle.

the walk 23:52:58 on Sunday, December 14 2008

First thing said to me today was "Now that's a happy dog!" Too true. It was within minutes of starting our walk down on the vast expanse of Camber Sands - Billy and I have not been down there for far too long, but today we were back

After the endless deluge of yesterday, everywhere is wet and soggy. And muddy. When I woke up this morning, I could see that the rain had finally stopped (from bed I can see out of the bedroom door and through the landing/study window - and I gauge the weather before sliding out from beneath the duvet.) and that there was not - for a change - a thick frost across the ground. I wanted a walk. Billy wanted a walk. Billy always wants a walk! He's been short-changed recently.

Rather than yet more muddiness and yet another trip into the fields and quagmires that they will have become, it was "cue the beach". So after a lie in, a warming, late, breakfast, and wrapping up in boots, hat, scarf, gloves and duffle coat, off we went.

It was bleak, hazy, and wet. Billy paddled - was impressively curious about the waves, and he ran marathons up and down and across the sand. We passed by other dog walkers, and couples, and couples with children, and couples with children and dogs. Everyone we meet when we are out walking, seem to love Billy. He is a naughty little pickle, and he gets it wrong on a regular basis, but essentially he has the biggest heart in the world (for a dog) and there is not one single ounce of nastiness in him (just naughtiness) and he is cute to boot (and milks it). When he meets new people when we go out walking he goes and says hello, but there is an element of shyness/caution. When he meets new dogs it's much the same. He'll have a look, see if they want to play - hope they want to play - and if they will then hoorah but if not then he gets the hint pretty quick, and moves on (or runs to me for cover if he's getting picked up by a growling beast)

We walked from our regular parking place, over the dunes and along the sand - up to the red-roofed cottage - and then we turned on our heals and retraced our steps. Billy was in his own world, and I was in mine. I people watched - I Billy watched - and I took some deep long breaths of sea air and was just glad to be out there, with the billyboy.

Me and my boy. Everything else - all that stuff that is waiting, is pending, is stacking up, for a short while it was shelved - it had to be. Sometimes that is just the way it is.

time 23:10:53 on Sunday, December 14 2008

Crikey - another week has passed. And we are fast approaching 25th. Eeek! I've got as far as buying cards - only just - but not writing them - let alone sending them, and I've sorted out one or two presents for family, but there is plenty more to do. Where is the time going? Where is the time?

It's been a funny old week - nothing of particular substance to report, but suffice to say that some of the parts of the week that I had concerns about worked out well - and whilst I started the week feeling like I was coming down with something nasty - nausea, weariness and fragility were abundant - it seems to have been no more than a storm in a teacup and there's actually nothing wrong with me!

There was nothing 9 - 5 or thereabouts about springback's working hours - which is as per norm. Monday started after nine - I woke feeling bleurgh - but as the day passed by I did more than a day's worth of work - Mum was an absolute star and came over to help me out with the mountains of paperwork that have been threatening to avalanche over me. We talked as we worked, and Billy got in the way. It was good to have the company in the cottage - my working life is focused on and around people, but the behind the scenes bit - the home-office majority - can get a bit solitary at times. After she left, early evening, I took myself off to have some Power Stretch space with the lovely Becky - always a giggle. I was going hot and cold throughout (the afore mentioned bleurgh-feeling) but is was good to get out and chill out. Once I got back home, around nine, I went back upstairs to the landing - my study - and sat on the floor and carried on filing. I got a "mummy" phone call late - to check I was okay. Which we all need from somebody sometimes.

Tuesday started earlier than monday - and went on a whole lot later. I was doing a talk in North London in the evening - and pulled up back home shortly before midnight. Tired, but grateful, happy and safe. I slept well.

After a reasonably "regular wednesday" thursday was a long day of three talks in central london. It was fabulous to have the opportunity to speak to more young people - it always is - and they were three superb, captive audiences. The questions reflected the level to which they had engaged with me, and knowing that I could have heard a pin drop as they sat, so still, so attentive, was a priviledge.

By the end of the day I was utterly sick of the sound of my own voice! I didn't want to use it, to hear it - I was "done in"! There were just a couple of calls that needed to be made, and that was it for thursday.

I meandered through friday, rounding the week off with a wee trip up to The Halt to have a drink with friends - just about the right way to round off the week and start the weekend. And I did my bit to drum up a couple of team mates for our team at the pub quiz next tuesday. We're up to five now - and the max is 6. I can't wait! I've never been in a pub quiz before and always wanted too, and I don't doubt it will be a giggle, and thoroughly silly evening

I went to a black tie do last night! It was all last minute, accompanying a friend and I was The Lady in Red for the night. What fun. And today was the beach - me and Billy - just the two of us - and we were happy - it was our time - "me time" we needed - quality time and space.

So that, in a nutshell, is where the time has gone.

the written word - meditation 02:00:17 on Sunday, December 7 2008

As we neared the end of out time in treatment one of the final tasks was to write our own meditation, which was personal and meaningful to us and out own journey, character and recovery.

Ironically, despite spending an unusually and exceptionally long time in treatment, by the time I left I had not got as far as that step of the journey, and this was never asked of me. However, during my "eternal" time as an inpatient, I saw many many others come and go - and was privileged to be asked by several people, to write a meditation for them.

I always did this willingly, keenly, happily. Always conscious of who I was writing for and keeping it relevant.

Kath (not her real name) had become a good friend. We spent alot of time together and supported one another. We also had arguments - two strong characters struggling with recovery = fireworks! She was battling a different demon to me, but we had a lot in common all the same - the feelings - the self-destruct button.

I was so happy when Kath left treatment - happy - contented - clean - alive. I was so sad to be saying goodbye to my friend. She asked me to write her meditation - how could I say no?

THE RAINBOW

Ruby RED rays radiate from a whole and mended heart

ORANGE light at dawn gives me hope of a new start

The YELLOW of the sun brings warmth into the soul

GREEN gardens of Eden are refreshing pure and whole

The BLUE sky is for soaring through, it's energy holds me tight

And INDIGO and VIOLET blossoms ease the darkness - shed some light

Theses are the colours of the rainbow that arch across the earth

They give my life more meaning, for there was reason for my birth

Even when dark storm clouds leave me cold, afraid, alone

I can remember that light will come again, to guide my journey home

I will survive the tough times, I will live, and learn, grow old

And if I follow the path of the rainbow, I will reach my Pot of Gold.

Kath and I lost touch for a while. Many months later she rang me - in the middle of the night, over and over again. She was in big big trouble. I don't know what happened after that - I had to let go although it pained me to do so. But I haven't stopped remembering.

the written word - memories 01:29:42 on Sunday, December 7 2008

I've always written bits and pieces - I've always liked writing and working with words, and imagination. Words can be powerful - and writing can be incredibly healing, inspiring, freeing, exciting. It can help me to grieve at times of loss and pain. It can help me to remember at times of joy, and of reflection. It can motivate me, it can help to de-clutter my head.

I have recently regained contact with an old friend - after 20 years! We went to prep school together, but aged 12 our lives went in different directions. When she wrote to me she reminded me of things about myself that I had not really thought about - it's funny the way people do that - we think we know ourselves so well, and then someone else points something (about us) out that we've overlooked, and we realise how narrow our gaze can become and that the way we see things ourselves is not the same as how others see us. We need their feedback!

She wrote "Somehow I had always imagined that you'd become a composer or song writer, you wrote a carol on my last term which we used at the Christmas service and I 've always held this in my memory of you - do you still play/ write music? You loved it at school."

All day, whilst out there in the cold sunshine, clearing leaves in the garden, pruning, talking to Billy, and my neighbours, I've been humming the tune to that carol. It brought fond memories back - and I can, 20 years on, remember most of the words!

candle wreath 00:41:59 on Thursday, December 4 2008

I was expecting her, as usual, and when a knock sounded on the door Billy barked excitedly, as usual.

Opening the door, I let her in, and seconds later I was captivated by what she was carrying. Quite the most beautiful table wreath for Advent and Christmas, entirely homemade and entirely stunning. I had seen some of her work - flower arrangements and the such like already - and been sincerely impressed by the talent she has - but this particular wreath is something else.

When we first met, she was miserable in her job, miserable in her life, and fading away. We've stopped alot of that - and are challenging all of it and yes it is a huge challenge and desperately difficult at times, but nonetheless a lot of hard work is being done.

One of the many gifts of recovery is creativity - and whilst there are those who are "creative" in their using-years, that is nothing by comparison to how creative they might be in recovery.

That extraordinary wreath she has created is a testament to her own journey of recovery and creativity. That she brought it to me and gave it to me as a gift, and that for me it was so totally out of the blue, has touched my heart.

the sofa effect 00:20:00 on Thursday, December 4 2008

I like my sofa. I like it alot. It was second hand when I got it and I like the fact that it is big and cosy and comfortable. And I like that is is faded purple and it blends into the cottage like it's a part of the furniture (funnily enough)

My sofa is serves lots of good purposes. Like now, it is the place where I have curled up, put my feet up, and with music playing and lights low, I am winding down from another day. A happy place, a relaxed place. Other times it is here that someone will sit and be very unhappy and perhaps weep buckets - when a client comes to the cottage for talk-time with Al, I resume "my seat" in the old leather chair and the sofa beomes the place for the client to sit, and talk and unload sometimes very painful feelings. A place for therapy and hard work. The same client may reappear time after time, sit on the sofa time after time (and week in week out you can guarantee that each person always plants themself in the same spot on the sofa - if they sit to the right the first time they visit, they will sit to the right thereafter. Dittto for the left-sitters... and the much more rare middle-grounders). As time passes, the sofa endures anger, pain, sadness and sorrow. It holds steady through all of these, as do I, and we "hold" someone firmly with our support, and gradually watch the sorrow be replaced with smiles, the despair be replaced with hope. The sofa welcomes friends and family who visit, and offers comfortable space to sit back and catch up. It endures muddy paws and doggy leaps and bounds, and when it all gets too much, the covers come off, get thrown in the washing machine - and refreshed and redressed, it quickly recovers.

It's a sofa for sitting, a sofa for sobbing, a sofa for laughing, a sofa for being. With so many roles, and so much going on, sometimes it gets a bit flat. I worked out some time ago that the best way to breathe life back into my sofa, is to throw the seat, back and side cushions on to the floor - and jump up and down on them. With glee. Then put it back together again, all plumped up and ready to resume it's role. A process of Sofa Therapy. For me. Lovely.

chill factor 01:07:10 on Wednesday, December 3 2008

It's been bitter just lately. Bitter and cold. My *brilliant* hands and feet warned me in advance - brilliant in so much as to say that they hurt, to let me know that more pain was on it's way. Raynauds has been kicking in again these last few weeks, and more so in the last few days.

I have a cupboard full of medication - but I don't take it as I can't bear the side effects, and was told that I needed to weigh up whether or not the benefits outweighed these - and they don't. I also don't like taking tablets generally - I'd rather seek out alternatives. I am trying to do the simple things that help - keep warm, inside out out (keeping the heating on - eating and drinking warm foods - keeping the blood flowing) keep moving - I do move...! (but perhaps the dog walking could do with more frequency) but all in all it is not easy. Pah!

It does make me self-conscious and uncomfortable, and it hurts physically. The extensive tests and hospital appointments I endured for a couple of recent years got us nowhere - frustrating in so many ways, but also good I know, that nothing sinister was revealed. I gave up on them in the end - and they admitted that they were at a loss too - they didn't know how to help. I was moving away, I was getting nowhere, we were all getting nowhere. And life goes on, and we cope. And it could be worse. It could be a lot lot worse.

I have a life, I have a body, I have a future. Which frankly is a very warming thought.