My Very Small World

It only takes two minutes for me to walk to my favourite spot.
The pond looks gorgeous especially this morning in this sunshine. Such a peaceful place surrounded by trees especially after returning from swimming and just before I start work.
Last night feeling a different version as I sheltered under a tree from the rain as the thunder rolled overhead. I felt incredibly small and inconsequential in this big world.

But this morning everything looked just right. A natural elegance that was enhanced by the sun. The way the light made the water sparkle and created different shades of green on the long reeds that fill the whole pond. Theres enough room for the ducks to swim and their babies to explore.
I heard someone say the other day “this isn’t one of the special spots. There are much more beautiful places”
To me it could not be more beautiful in all its simpleness.
I never get tired of being here.
It always provides what I need as I sit quietly and take in all its details as my woodland friends run around me like I’m sitting in a Disney movie.
This place Immediately instils a sense of peace within me.

And I need it as I try to deal with what in moments feels like an impossible challenge in helping my girl with this life stunting illness.
It breaks my heart every day, leaves me feeling completely impotent in being unable to make any significant difference and feeling so sad in how she got here.
Feeling all my own guilt in whatever part I have played in that alongside carrying the guilt of her dad.
And on top feeling a sadness in that important loss that has triggered what this now is.

It’s really difficult for me not to feel completely responsible.
I do feel completely responsible even though I know there are many other big factors.
But I’m her mum. It was my job to protect her and make her ready the big world.
I tell myself that I could not have tried any harder to protect her, be there for her and always take care of her.
Giving her so much freedom and independence. Letting her make her own choices.

And then questioning the validity of that approach. Maybe I should have held her more tightly. Been more controlling.
How do you get it right?

And then of course immediately feeling that domino effect in my choice to go in search of more. Now playing the killer hand that is leaving me wishing I could completely rewind time all the way back to that point and walk along a different road.
But I can’t. What’s done is done and I can’t change it.
No matter how much I wish I could. No matter how much I leave it behind me.
It’s still there in seeing the fallout. I can’t run from that. It hurts so deeply that I wonder st times how to even keep going.
But I must.
Having to suck it all up and bury my own feelings so that I can be the strength required to be what she needs.
Remembering who I was before that chapter.
I really was happily drifting through life in my easy going way.
Never thinking for one second that my life would end up being slowly destroyed like another form of cancer.

It’s like a roller coaster. In moments scrabbling for the right words, the right thought, the right action that will allow her to eat. Feeling a sense of relief as I see her eat anything. As though I am just keeping her alive.
Finding every ounce of compassion and understanding and calmness required to get through those sticky moments where I gently and pain stakeingly encourage her to make the right choices for herself. Gentleness at its most powerful.
Being the place for all her frustration.
Getting more help but they don’t know how to help either.
It feels exhausting.

But in the moments after when we get to the other side of it and I see her pain subside until the next meal, it all feels worth it.
And then other lovely moments where she feels happy, or she goes out with friends or does something fun.
I feel a pure joy in her being able to just be 19 for a moment. And wishing that moment would last forever.
I’ve never dealt with something that is so complicated, so unexplainable, so beyond my realms of understanding and so completely linked to things beyond what this illness suggests.
An image I saw last week that made me feel so incredibly sad. As though it were an attack on my girl.
Only she’s never hurt a fly.
Always keeping faith that we will get there as I look for more specialist support. Whatever it takes for her to get her life and herself back.

In the meantime I find myself taking greater care of myself in order to have what is required to help her.
Feeling the sadness of letting go of someone that really mattered to me and I love while having to accept that I didn’t and I wasn’t. Feeling sadness as opposed to bitterness.
I know how to really love.
Bitterness can never consume me.
But sadness hurts.

As I wrote that Bella the dog came running over and snuggled up for a moment before bouncing playfully into the water, as her owner shouted after her to get out.
Run Bella Run I thought as I looked across at the owner and he looked back at me with despair at her lack of care in following his instructions. When she finally came out, all dishevelled and covered in dirty water she found herself straight back on the lead.
Her happy freedom taken away.
But in that moment in the water she looked very happy and free.
A lovely feeling that kept me there for another ten minutes despite seeing my bosses name flash up on my phone as if putting me on a lead to to my laptop.
I ignored it.
Run M Run I thought….

As an end of day addition … as I find myself back in the forest I received an email from the forest bravehearts …

… Turns out sometimes when little people stand and fight together for something that matters, they win.
Plans to build on our little flats community has been rejected.
All that hard work made a difference.
Providing the much needed familiarity and security for all.
My own feeling of relief rather than power as I breathed in the magic of this forest and carried on in my very small world ❤️

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