Self-Reflection
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Why I Write Morning Pages
I write morning pages. Every morning without fail. Even when I recently had a pressing engagement through in Glasgow that required I leave the house at 5.30 (with 3 fed, washed & dressed children), I was up at 4.15 in the still quiet of the early morning dark, writing my three A4 pages of longhand stream of consciousness. My pen travelled fluidly across the lined paper and I struggled to keep my eyes open. A part of me is surprised at myself. I didn’t know I had it in me to be so dedicated to a practice. Give me a challenge, set me a target and I will respond with…
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The Story of Me & Him
This is how the story goes. This is how my version of the story goes. This is what I remember of my version of the story, plus all those softenings, embellishments, and flourishes that my romantic idealisation has contributed. Because you see, lovely reader, it has been over 14 years now since the events in this story have passed. More than enough time, I think you’ll agree, for any number of alterations to be made to my memory. In this incarnation of the story, I am 18 years old. In fact, if I’m being precise here, I am 18 years, 4 months, 2 weeks and 1 day, but that, as…
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A Mother’s Love
Thirteen years ago today, I became a mum for the first time. I was nineteen years old, newly married and, until my daughter came along, thought of myself as very grown up and responsible. But I will always remember the feeling of sheer panic that completely overtook me when I got home and my beloved had to return to work, leaving me alone with our baby for the first time… She was tiny. Born at just 6lbs 6oz, her weight had dropped to just below 6lbs before we brought her home. She had the most perfect olive skin and a tiny rosebud mouth. Precious jet black kiss-curls covered her head,…
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The Bravery of the Wet-Winged Butterfly
I think my true self is a 4 year old girl who believes she is a butterfly. This was my response to Rachael Maddox‘s question on Roots of She: Who do you become when you let your true self out? And my answer surprised me. You see, I don’t think I’ve been that self for a long time. I think I’d half-forgotten she existed. When I was very little, I went to nursery school. The school was divided into 3 classrooms, although I can only remember the squirrel class and the butterfly class. My teacher told my mum that it had been decided to put me in the butterfly room,…
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A Summer of Self
I know, it’s an opportunity that most of us fantasize about, right? What would it be like to not to have all our time and space and energy and attention taken up by our jobs, our children, and our partners? Just imagine what we could achieve! A regular yoga practice. A slow delicious morning routine. A sparkling social life. A clean bathroom… the list goes on and on. And then we feel the stirring of the slow-burning embers of a guilty conscious. After all, we’re good at our job, and, let’s face it, in this economic climate we’re lucky to have a job at all. We love our children and…
