Author: Amanda

Authority

I am good at figuring out my sense of the practical side of natural parenting – full term breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby led weaning, baby wearing, attachment, natural health etc. I have developed my understanding of these matters quite quickly and cleanly.

Where I struggle the most is the emotional bit – gentle communication, boundaries, freedom, discipline et al. I know that I aspire to be a respectful parent, one who considers my children’s perspective and needs and I feel poke axed on those days where I am far from my ideal. One bit, however, that I am getting clear on is my authority.

I have come to affirm in myself the need for definite and calm authority.

Knowing that I was not interested in developing into a controlling and disciplinarian parent, I have read and researched some of the alternatives and have been navigating my own course alongside them. I have also been fortunate enough to have a circle with a wide variety of philosophies and sometimes seeing what I don’t want is the most helpful in carving out the path that I do.

And, most significantly, I have arrived back at nature. What I witness in nature is a parent’s authority, the clarity of these chosen guides being sure of themselves, their place and intention in the world. I have a strong sense of the emotional purpose of myself as a parent; to lead, guide and model a way of being and show and encourage the gamut of emotional complexities that this world offers. I am deeply aware that my time as guide is short, that it won’t be long before I rightly relinquish my authority and send them out into the big wide world to hone and master their own sensibilities, but I see how hard it can be when I don’t give them the head start of a suggested direction. I have witnessed the floundering and confusion that occurs when a child is left to make all their own choices and decisions and it doesn’t sit right with me. What is our purpose as parents if the children are leading the way?

So, much to the dismay of some of my peers, I am, on occasion, strong with my ‘No’; I do make some circumstances unacceptable, and whilst I still disagree with ‘punishment’ per se, I will remove objects or my child from an unhealthy dynamic.

It is my job to set safe and clean boundaries, it is my job to model humanity and compassion, it is my job to support and nurture and it is my job to teach kindness over feral-ness. I am a work in progress and still making plenty of mistakes but understanding that holding my authority is a healthy choice for my kids is like finally being handed the job description rather than being plonked in front of a desk full of files.

I am not damaging my kids by being firm and clear and I am guiding them.

When Choice Is Bad

Over the last year I have been rethinking feminism (Why Feminism Must Die, Where Have All Our Mother’s Gone?)  Apart from my own blogs, I have had conversations and debates on Facebook and, as is typical when a subject strikes a chord, I have been drawn to reading and exploring this further. I am heading far down the rabbit hole of challenging the current stance on feminism, how I feel it is depicted and actioned today.

Before I continue, I would like to reiterate firmly that I am deeply grateful for the passion, commitment and sacrifices that my societal sisters and brothers have made to create the changes for women over the last century or so. What I am exploring now is not in anyway to devalue those actions but instead a look at what our next steps could be to support a healthy, balanced and productive society.

The main thrust of antagonism towards my investigations seems to be the belief that feminism fundamentally stands for equality and choice and why would I want to deny those key and vital opportunities to anyone? In truth I wouldn’t.

But I think they are too simplistic and create loop holes in our world that allow people to make decisions without informed choice and without responsible choice. And that’s when choice can be bad….

In no way would I want to strip anyone of their right to choose, but I certainly would like to fire up our energy to make sure that the choices we are making are healthy and vibrant. And isn’t that subjective? Aren’t some people’s healthy choices going to be unhealthy for others?

Actually I wonder, I really wonder if we look at our deep, innate, human selves. Would our choices be that different? Working from our primal senses, are our base lines not all quite similar? Safety… community… love? How we perceive and realise those elements are hugely influenced by the media and our peers, why one person thinks a hospital birth is safer than a home birth; why another wants to stick rigidly to a contained circle of friends and yet others to explore the world; and how some can judge various types of love to be wrong – sexual, gender, parental etc.

Whilst recently reading the work of Michael Gurian, an advocate of ‘womanism’ as our next step, I appreciated his use of neuroscience to support his theories. Science, as with anything, has its own limitations and is not, in my mind, the be all and the end all of an argument. However, what I valued in this case was how it validated what I am sensing in myself. How the science of our bodies is giving us a message about all these ‘choices’ we are making today; the science is the play out of our hormones and how they create these baseline drives and emotions that we share as a human race.

Neuroscience also looks at the biological differences between men and women. The reality is that we can never be equal, because, quite frankly, we are too different. We can be respectful, honouring, trusting, supportive and open with our opposite gender but demanding equality when we instinctively react and process differently is too hard to define. What we need is an understanding of those differences, not just the will to ignore them. That is what will move us forward; for women to understand why men respond and work in certain ways and for men to understand women equally. There is where our equality will lie.

And, it is not just understanding our opposite gender that is important, but also our own. Imagine if all women realised their base line nature for nurture and mothering? If we grasped quite how integral that is to our spirit. That is not to demand that all women stay at home and mother but instead for women to honour that part of themselves and fulfil it in a way that suits them. This is when choice starts to become informed, when we comprehend quite how deeply our reactions and needs are defined by nature and that denying them serves no one. Honouring them brings us all forward together.

So do I think there are issues with our current stance on feminism? Most definitely, do I wish to take us back to feeling suppressed, unheard and disrespected? Of course not. I would love, instead, that we spend some time exploring what being a man and a woman really means…..

I think that could change the world.

Control Freak

My name is Amanda and I am a control freak….

I have been in recovery for a short time, awareness only hitting hard within the last couple of years. This week, however, I had a breakthrough that I’d like to share.

I recently visited a member of my inner circle for an overnight stay, Christmas rounds etc. Despite being offered to make myself comfortable and help myself to breakfast, it turned out my plate choices were a bit too rebellious for my host. You see, I wanted a regular size plate for my two pieces of toast and fruit and was instead firmly directed to the small side plates where I could ‘pile the toast up’. Honestly, it felt totally bonkers (to use my daughter’s current favourite word); to have conflict and discomfort over the choice of breakfast plate took my understanding of control freakishness to a whole new level.

A few days later, back at home, I was putting my saucepans away and someone (husband or small kiddies) had moved around my saucepan lids so that instead of slotting my pans back into the drawer, I had to put them down and reshuffle (bear with me, I know this is currently sounding a little inane). Now, just a short time ago I would have felt irritated and annoyed that I had been inconvenienced in my saucepan returning, but this time I felt grateful. I felt so deeply and overwhelming grateful for my husband, who rarely remembers where anything lives, and for my kids, who find my kitchen drawers endlessly fascinating. I felt so filled with the realisation that this was a beautiful opportunity to release the control freakish me.

Looking at those saucepans I knew I was at one of those BIG life forks…. I could expand that irritation and continue down the sordid path towards controlling the size of people’s breakfast plates, to a bonkers place of ultimate C.F. ….. Or…… I could let my children’s chaos and my husband’s decidedly different methods teach me to mellow and let go.

Guess which one I chose?

My Vulnerable Epiphany

Tomorrow is Epiphany, the celebration of the realisation that Christ was the son of God, it is also the term used to describe a moment of clarity or new understanding from a place of confusion. Added to all of that, it’s one of my favourite words, the sound of it is just like heavenly tinkling bells, and you may have noticed me use it once or twice in previous blogs already!

With that weight of specialness it feels like the right day for me to make my New Year’s resolution and I’ve certainly needed these first few days of January to get clear on it.

My resolution is to be more Vulnerable, with an asterisk*……

* as long as my soul & spirit are not at risk.

I have not been great at being vulnerable as an adult, and by that I mean being able to show when words or actions have hurt me, instead I have drawn myself up tall and proud and answered back with righteousness and defence. Needless to say, it has not endeared me to some.

Over the last year, when I have shared moments with my husband of things that have felt hurtful to me, be it family issues, my social circle or silly Facebook conversations, he has consistently mirrored back to me the fact that if I had shown that pain to the protagonists, the dynamic may have shifted.

I have been deeply resistant to accepting this idea thanks to my childhood contract with myself to not let others perceive my pain, to not let others have power over me. That served me well as a child, it protected me from repeated emotional wounding, it literally allowed me to survive. It is not, however, serving me well as an adult. Instead I am being judged as righteous, brittle, distant, insensitive and probably a whole lot of other things too. I find myself in repeat patterns in social circles of feeling isolated and shunned. I have my core friends who ‘get me’ but in attempts to widen and enjoy my social sphere, I hit similar dynamics over and over again. The Universe is trying to show me something and I don’t really want to see it.

So my resolution is to be more vulnerable, to let the tears well up when I feel overwhelmed or unheard; to express myself clearly and openly when others’ actions appear alienating; and to hold back from retaliating with strong words when feeling attacked.

There are still interactions with my history where being vulnerable is not going to serve me, opening up old wounds & stories, and for those moments I will hold my boundaries, but for new and evolving friendships and circles I shall unlock my heart once again and hope that it is the love that is seen, not the fear.

Happy New Year xxx

I Emerge

Before having my own kids, I was great with children. (Bear with me a moment…) Before kids, I would spend hours hanging out with other people’s children, they would be my company when I felt out of place at some adult shindig; they would feed my endless desire for motherhood; but mostly I just really enjoyed their honesty and refreshing energy. Then my own children arrived and the strangest thing happened, I went off everyone else’s children. I was not interested in getting to know them, or in cuddling the babes or really connecting with them on any level unless it was related to my own children somehow. I almost felt ashamed about it, such was my aversion.

Then just last week, I felt it again. I had the time and energy to think about and consider some other little mite and reignite that pleasure of interaction with some joyful Littles, besides my own. This is not the only thing that has changed recently, I have started to delve back into my wardrobe and pull out some old gems and special favourites; I take time to consider my outfits in the morning – only a few extra moments mind, but long enough to become a conscious decision rather than a flurried debacle. My husband took both my kids out for the morning last weekend and for the first time in almost 3 years I had more than a snatched moment to gather my thoughts.

I am emerging back into the world.

Why the shift? Because my youngest is 2years and 9 months old and his last tooth just came through.

Through observation, I believe that 2.5 to 3 years old is a major developmental turning point in our children. I noticed it in my eldest but was already heavily pregnant with my second so was unable to reap the rewards for myself. This time round, there is no baby in my belly and I feel myself returning. My youngest can now be distracted or delayed from a boob appointment if I need to do something else; he can spend time with Daddy because he wants to not because I’m trying to off load him for a moment; he can communicate with me to a level high enough that we can actually resolve some issues with relative ease; he is still attached but he is beginning the slow transition out into the world himself.

I write this because it feels so great to emerge again, to breathe the air of my own needs and desires, and because I know for all those mamas out there wanting to parent naturally having a long term guide is actually so helpful and reassuring. I know I’ve got at least another year of breastfeeding, but lay that against the 5.5 consecutive years I have done already and that’s a walk in the park. I know that, if I had known that once all the teeth come in everything shifts and relaxes a little, I wouldn’t have spend months wondering if I was doing the right thing with this, at times intense, demand feeding. I know that when I told a friend recently, with her 6 month old, that she only had a couple of years till the crazy nights settled down, I could hear her sigh with relief, because it sounds like a lot but actually it’s just knowing that feels better, feels manageable, feels able to surrender to.

So I emerge back into this world, enjoying my few moments of fresh air when I am welcoming back myself and feeling so grateful for having trusted my kids needs and instincts in letting our attachment unfold quietly, gently, slowly, peacefully.

 

 

Oblivion

Once upon a time I was a party girl. For all the reasons anyone ever is, lots of fun and a whole lot of numbness. I even remember one long summer in my teens being absolutely determined to go out every single night, accepting dates I would have otherwise have rejected, just to be out.

With the parties came alcohol and drugs, a sure fire way to numbness and oblivion until the morning at least. I can’t say it was a particularly happy time but it certainly enabled me to get by without having to face any of the darkness that I held, any of those feelings that are just too strong, too hard, too scary.

Years have passed and so have some truly special healing moments, releases and understandings that have forged me into a saner individual, one that can function emotionally and settle into the normality of society (just about!).

And yet I find myself here, mother of two, wife, writer, home maker and cook; I find myself remembering fondly those moments of oblivion. I find myself feeling nostalgic about crazy amounts of alcohol and surreal nights with strangers, with people who don’t know me at all. I find myself thinking, that would be nice right now, that would be a little bit easier than this.

Because parenting, relationships, even just being a good friend, can feel so damn difficult at times. All these mirrors to me, all these dynamics that open up my awareness to the unhealed, to my shadows, to the parts of me that I would like to ignore, are standing firm with solid reflection.

And I don’t want to look.

I don’t want to see that I’ve been a grumpy mummy for a whole week and actually it’s nothing to do with my kids; I don’t want to see that I can feel so jealous of my friends’ other friendships that I twist with discomfort; I don’t want to see the broken relationship with my mother; or the moments with my husband where I lack the most basic elements of compassion. I don’t want to face any of that. Oblivion sounds so much easier.

But I do remember that it isn’t. That is has its own empty, heartbreaking breath, jagged and lonely. I do remember that I was always teetering on the edge of life, wondering what lay beyond, yearning for a little flash of contented happiness.

So in these moments of nostalgia, I sit and remember the wild giggles and raucous skirmishes and know that I still choose ‘now’ because I finally do have a hold on my own reality, a tie to each day that draws me back and settles me into those minutes of blissful content in between the ache for oblivion.

100 days

Last weekend was one hundred days since my daughter started coughing. Whilst others in our community also had varying degrees of whooping cough this summer (vaccinated and unvaccinated), my little family definitely signed up for the full version, classic style!

My kids are better, they are finally off the high vitamin c (an amazing therapy but exhausting in its own right, keeping the levels high and cajoling the kids to take it for nigh on 100 days! Oof!), there is no more vomiting and although there is still the occasional spasm, when over exerted or at night, they are 99% better.

I have found the duration wearing. The 7 weeks of confinement at home were filled with a gracious swirl of gifts (see my previous blog ‘Cancel Everything‘) to balance out the intensity, but with my kids energy back up and champing at the bit to be out in the world again, trying to measure their energy levels, monitor their exertions and still be without proper evenings to myself, as between them the occasional spasms intrude, I have been hard pushed not to feel a little ‘over it’!

I remember a friend sharing that even years later, whenever she heard her kids cough she would shudder and feel drawn back into the emotional maelstrom of that time.

I am never going to deny that it’s hard but, despite the hopes of some thinking it would change my mind on vaccines, it has only confirmed and upheld my beliefs and research on our health choices.

I have understood childhood illnesses to be an indicator, precursor and factor in developmental shifts and growth spurts; I am aware natural endurance promotes lengthy immunity; and I trust a healthy body’s ability to process an illness and use it as a tool to detox physically and emotionally. All of these I see to be truths in my experience.

This experience has not made me question our decision not to vaccinate our children, it has totally affirmed it. And whilst I sit out these last days of tickles and spasms, I find this validation to be yet another of the many blessings on this journey.

Second Nature

When I think about the early years of parenting, the physical exhaustion pales in comparison to the psychological wipe out. Whilst I know this is the case for many, I don’t believe it has to remain this way for our future generations. I certainly want to make the transition to parenthood easier for my kids.

What has been, and still remains, the most shattering aspects are the parts that were once second nature, were once instinctive, in our ancestors. Having to retrain myself to think, perform or react differently to how I was raised myself or how modern society has moulded me, is a mammoth task.

My energy really needs to be focused on the physical, spiritual and emotional needs of my children rather than me scrambling to catch up on providing foundation nutrition; researching modern medical strategy; decoding educational mantras; and, most basically, tuning in to becoming a more respectful and compassionate parent. Once upon a time, all of these were either entirely irrelevant or intrinsically second nature. As I teach myself to make bone broths, ferment sourdough and sooth aches and pains with natural remedies, I am aware that long ago, this knowledge would be in my blood.

When I started the journey in my twenties to heal my emotional wounds, I did it for my future children. All I ever wanted was to be a mum and I also knew that without some serious therapy, I would be an appalling one. I’ve made great strides and have come a long way but I wish I’d known about all the other parts too.

My cousin, who passed last year, a beautiful soul who, despite still being a way off from becoming a parent, was doing intense research on early years parenting needs. His motivation was also self-healing but at the same time I was awed by how prepared he was going to be when he got the opportunity to become a dad. He was making short films on the importance of secure attachment and bringing together the links between addictions, and other current societal ailments, and our parenting foundation. We were both passionate about the subject, but I wished I known earlier.

I can’t change what is and I’m glad that I love reading and learning, because it can also be exciting when those eureka moments hit and I realise just what I need to do for the next phase of mummy hood. I am also hoping that the hours of my kids sitting up on the counter helping me cook from scratch; the memories of our cosleeping and breastfeeding; the awareness of their robust and healthy immunity will all enable them to concentrate on just ‘being’ a parent. Not thinking it, not questioning it, living it as part of their souls.

Expansion

I wish I could draw or paint the vision I held this morning. I will try to depict it with words, but they will not be enough.

Back in 2000 and something, I spent some evenings at The College of Psychic Studies, there is some irony in the fact that I cannot exactly remember what I was studying, but I went diligently and, from recollection, eagerly, every week for a term. One thing I did take away with me was Pete.

Pete is my spirit guide (and here I enter into a whole new paradigm, an area that can connect and also alienate, but I hope that even the die-hard sceptics can read the message rather than the messenger). I’m not going to describe him in great detail except to say that he really makes me laugh, more than anyone I know. I used to chat with him fairly regularly in my meditations and then parenting happened and I lost my grounding a little.

In the last few weeks, I’ve been meditating again and have reconnected with Pete, who is as charming and witty as ever. This morning, as I floated in the bath, with the kids playing around me, Pete showed me Expansion.

He showed me the middle of a space where all around me as far as the eye could see were these swirls of blues, every hue and tone. Like swimming in the most exotic of seas and yet instead of water, more like luxurious silks and threads. It was beautiful, peaceful and so clear. I knew that every emotion that I placed here became diluted and softened as it spread throughout the space. That I could hold my hardest and most challenging feelings and set them free here, to be energetically dispersed. There was an understanding that nothing was right or wrong but simply that anything that felt too strong could be spread out and lightened and it was called Expansion.

It is a glorious, glorious place and one that I wanted to share….

Playstation Level 1

On reflection I can laugh, but just a few short years ago I really believed I had it mostly sussed out. I had spent my teens in turmoil, my early twenties in self destruct and the rest of my twenties in some sort of therapy/workshop/intense process. By 30 I was offering my new wisdom as an alternative therapist and was feeling pretty peaceful with the world.

Then I got married and had my two glorious children and I realised that, as if locked inside some epic computer game, I had only just passed level 1.

To continue that analogy, there was a great film way back when (1997) called ‘The Game’ where Michael Douglas is given the ultimate rich man’s gift. He unknowingly becomes part of an interactive theatre where a series of stressful, frightening and tense moments play out in his life culminating in a fall from a tall building into his surprise birthday party (sorry for ruining the ending!). I remembering loving the film and it’s lingered with me for all these years, that peace-giving realisation that all of those horrifying moments where just directed theatre, make believe. I had that feeling this week when I stood in my garden and thought I am so overwhelmed by all the emotional stretches in my life, I must wake up in moment and see it’s been an orchestrated lesson. Which on a true spiritual plain it is.

And as with most spiritual journeys, it can be hard to see the wood for trees whilst trekking the path. I did garner some small insight today remembering that my greatest understanding through all my years of self work is that how I honour myself creates my emotional stability and roots. When I was single, I practised self love by writing morning pages, reading my angel cards, slipping off to the cinema mid-afternoon; meeting friends for coffee and sometimes a glass of wine or two. I had the world open to me to explore a variety of ways to honour my mood, my space, my needs. Trying to give that to myself whilst nurturing my family, catering to the needs of two small ones and my husband, I frequently get lost and find myself in this ‘game’ scenario, looking around bewildered at the on goings.

But the truth stays the same. The only way to traverse this landscape is to remember who I am in amongst it all. To remember that when I act out my ancestral rage towards my family that I am also searching for peace; that when anxiety fills my throat, I can also trust the unfolding; that when I can no longer bear my unconscious reactions infiltrating my days, that I can also practice self forgiveness. That all of these parts of myself coexist, if I deny one, it will force itself to my reckoning with discontent, if I allow it space in can calmly walk through my field with barely a breeze. It is giving myself permission to experience every part of myself and every part of the game of life.

Level 1 smashed it!
Level 2 needs more practice……