Expressive and Emotional word content… poetic justice… my thoughts are perceptive, occasionally subjective but always dimensional. My career lies in psychology and my mind lies in philosophy. To question and ponder is to reflect. I am both reflective and directive. I never walk with caution as our steps need their footprints. I love this journey we call life.

Tag: stimulating

Mya

A letter to my daughter

If I had to give you the greatest gift my love, I would give you courage.

I would ask you to always be brave and hold your head high, against societal perception, prejudice, discrimination, and ignorance.

I would tell you to use your metaphorical shield and unleash your sword of wise words and justness, to stand tall for yourself and others.

I would give you the insight to see the pure power of kindness, to understand the impact on others and to bestow it on those around you.

I would ask that you shower others with this kindness and use your umbrella of compassion to protect and defend them against the darker days and emotional storms.

This are the gifts I would give you as love, you already hold in your hands… and in mine, Strength is in your back bone, and resilience is bred into your being.

I ask you to view a mirror as your friend, and smile always at your reflection. Beauty remains there always, but you have to believe your own heart and ignore the falseness of others. Often you will question this, but straighten your crown my girl, and keep that smile shining brightly. Beauty lives there.

Follow your own path my darling, make it your own. Remember those dreams of magic and wonderment and keep on believing. It exists In you always.

I would ask you to never take anything for granted. Life can be amazing and beautiful, yet it can turn, like the clouds, and become unpredictable and hard.

The one lesson I’d teach you is that worth is equal, Life is life, and diversity keeps everything much more interesting.

Never stand above anybody and look down, and never strain your neck by looking up at others, as the picture doesn’t always fit the paper.

Do you, my love. Be the best version of yourself, and live your bestest life.

That’s all I ask.

Love always,

Your mother, who will worry regardless, but always pick you up when you fall. Who will hold your hand but also kick your butt when you are wrong. Who will believe for you when you lose hope, and lead you back to where you need to be ❤️

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Waiting to meet you…

I watch the hands as the clock bypasses time,

I feel you nearer,

The tick tocking in my heart

I can see you in my minds eye

Your smile warming my life

Who will you be my precious girl,

My sparkling snowflake,

I will chase your dreams and will catch for you,

My hand, ever warm, holding you tight

My heart in in time with yours.

That dreaded 20 week ultrasound tick tick tick tick……

Laid in bed this morning thinking back over the last few weeks. My little girl keeps kicking me ‘mama, time to get up, come on mama get used to it, I will be here soon’

It puts a smile on my face and I lay here enjoying these personal and special moments that’s just the two of us.

Flashback to January 15th when the morning started the same. The excitement bubbling up as that day we were going to see her wriggling around, the sonographer telling us that she was growing and maybe catch a yawn or a tiny wave.

That’s what you expect eh. You never think that it will be you whom they go quiet on, their faces portraying concern at having to deliver bad news.

As a mental health nurse, this perplexed me, as this role is so important in a woman’s pregnancy. Mental health and positive emotional coping is just as imperative as eating healthy and taking those god awful multivitamins they constantly promote (on reflection and to confirm, I did take, and still do take those horse tablets). Another pregnancy ‘perk’.

As I lay on the bed, my own instinct to read situations and people began to kick in, and I sensed a feeling of uneasiness. You can feel it can’t you, like a wave of insight flowing from another into your every fibre. She dithered with her hands and stumbled on her words as she told us she needed to leave the room to seek support and a second opinion.

Looking back, Jesus, it was dramatic. I could almost hear the rain drums thumping in the background as they began to hit their crescendo…

Honestly? My heart began to sink and my usual brave demeanour began to slip past my false smile and now beating heart.

I don’t really remember the full conversation but I remember the words, Down syndrome, dwarfism, dysplasia…

These words went through my head for almost a week as we waited to see the consultant on 22nd for a further scan.

Mental health I mentioned earlier? In my shoes. Looking back, I ask again, why is this not considered at this crucial moment? This is horrifying for a couple, anxiety provoking and plain scary. Watching paint dry, as the hours and the days tick tick by.

I value the NHS. The support we have received since is amazing, but at this moment, and for almost a week later, we were stuck in our own hell. Just a waiting game.

I found support through social media, through my friends and family, however i am proactive. That’s my personality. What about the people who aren’t?

There is a prominent gap in support services. This grey area which can be absolutely amazing but on reverse can bring you to your knees.

At the scans, we are already mothers. My baby was already kicking and making her presence known. Every time I threw up, I rolled my eyes and told myself she was worth it. Being a mummy outweighed it all. Yet I spent a week almost, unable to sleep, not knowing the fate of my unborn child, and had no health professional advising or reassuring us. Unfortunately we are simply one couple. I hate to think of the worry people are facing every day. As a mental health nurse it perplexed me. As a mother it breaks me.

Since this I have researched on social media and the internet, and the amount of women who have tried to conceive for years. Their miracle baby. Don’t the health professionals understand that in that one moment, their happy ever after may be ripped apart. Why isn’t this considered from a crisis perspective?

They need a voice. We all need a voice. Changes only happen through education, awareness and willingness to stand up.

Now I will get off my soapbox….. for today…..

My Precious

Yet do I know you, but I feel you in my heart,

Your story is waiting to begin,

the page is blank,

Just reinforced by love, my sweetest one

Trepidation I own, yet I cannot wait to know you,

Your scent already etched in my bones,

Your smile in my heart,

My arms ready to pull you close and stroke your tiny face

I know you as I have dreamt you,

Dreams afresh and alive,

I see your angelic face,

I hear your laugh, infectious, and I know,

You were sent from above.

Diet warrior or simply weak…

So today was a productive day… followed by a bad ass chicken dinner, cleaning complete, and now a bubble bath and…

A RIPPLE! (And other edible delights)

Sod diets today! I’m a diet rebel and taking the K.O. for all warrior ladies!! Want cake? Friggin eat it and enjoy every mouthful! Chocolate?? Double please!! 😂😋😜

Sometimes only the sweetest, naughtiest and goopiest option will do. Who wants to live by guidelines anyhow 🤷‍♀️

So I will climb down from my soap box and as I stuff my mouth with the sweetness of Cadbury, I will brownie promise that I will stick to the diet tomorrow…. or the next day….

Age is simply a number

Sometimes life really seems to creep up on you and then begins to go on past you, not giving a shit, and you are left rubbing your head and questioning ‘what the hell happened there?’

It’s like when you get that deja vu moment and then remember a memory which you must have stored deeply under a layer of dust, but seems only like yesterday. Then BAM.. you realise it was stored under that thick layer of celebral dust because it was in actual fact prehistoric. A complete emphasis on how much we have aged… without realising.

Damn.

It kind of blows everything else up and makes us question our own mortality as life really is slinking by, giving no shits, and taking no prisoners. Apart from loosening the skin around our eyes, breasts and ass, and leaving those amazing wrinkles to mark it’s god damn territory.

I remember being younger, looking up at 30 plus year olds (see how I am protecting my age there) and thinking ‘Jesus they are old’

Now I’m them, and I was right.

I have lost the years somewhere between wishing I was older, and then trying to be young and able to multitask.

Now I am the 30 plus year old looking at the younger generation and thinking ‘Oh my, they have so much to learn’.

Then I sit back smugly, drinking my cup of hot brewed tea and feel satisfied that with age, also comes wisdom, experience, and knowledge.

As those memories of hideous outfits, hand hiding hairstyles, god damn awful ex’s, and morning walks of shame, cloud my mind, I breath a sigh of relief.

I kindly hand that shit to the younger generation and I’ll own my age. As with age, comes realisation and clarity.

Still there’s always options to get rid of those wrinkles and photo shop does wonders….

Illustration – sharing the love ❤️

So I am sharing some of the recent work of louishonca.com as I personally think his work is phenomenal! Art is simply a shadow of our soul, and it gives us the freedom to express our true selves. The appreciation provides the echo which can ensure it continues to love and be loved.

Let us all dance with our own shadows and become the echo for each other 😊