Tag: parenthood

bereavement · friendship · grief · Inspiration · parenthood · relationships · self care · self development · self love

A little like you…

The real Kaz4 Comments

I think I got my confidence from you. I’m guessing, ‘cos it doesn’t run through mum’s side of the family. Women on mum’s side are shy, anxious, still strong but worry about the world and what will happen when they’re gone. I have that less, so I guess that may come from you, at least I hope. It comforts me to think I can recognise some of your traits in me.

I’m told you were confident, you could strongly voice your point of view. You weren’t scared to speak up in a crowd and enjoyed a debate or two. Ok, so I can’t quite say that’s me, but what I will say is true, I have a strength and desire to break through this shyness and speak my truth. Maybe I wouldn’t have had that with out you as my dad. Maybe I would just have accepted that this was who I am and sat back.

I like to think It’s from you that inner determination runs through me and I hope now I’m wiser and more confident, you can see that too. I know you loved books, loved to read, poems too. I can definitely say I love the written word too.

I try and remember you from when I was young but the memories are foggy, untrustworthy. Is it a memory or a story I’ve been told about you? I’m unsure. I want them all to be memories but there are only a few of which I’m really sure.

The scent of your roll up tobacco from a Golden Virginia tin box, that you would sit and roll out with, your legs crossed. Dressed in old work jeans but with a shirt that never really seemed to match. Then I remember your smile, when a glimpse of me you’d catch.

I wish my kids got to meet you, damn I wish I had more time with you myself, but my kids would have just flourished with your guiding hand or advice instead. Maybe I would have had more strength to make changes with you by my side but I’ve learnt to harness my own courage and sometimes I just know you are there as my guide.

Almost like you are standing right behind me with a hand on my shoulder, nudging me to be brave, do the hard thing, that’s when I feel you. When I have a choice that is difficult, just willing and whispering in my ear to chose the tough road because that leads to growth and change too.

Telling me to stand strong.

Don’t give up.

Shoulders back, head up and you won’t go wrong.

I’m thankful for the parts of me that are from you. It helps me to feel you are close. Through these rough times I would have loved to have you here with me, to know you were beside me taking care of me but you are within me.

I am your daughter and that is enough ‘cos that means I’m tough!

career · Education · friendship · Inspiration · parenthood · parenthood · self care · self development · self love

High school taught me….

The real KazLeave a comment

That I didn’t “fit in”

The older I’ve become, the more I wonder if we all feel this way in some respect during those difficult teenage years. Does anyone actually feel totally accepted and comfortable in their own skin and social group throughout their teenage years?

For me, my home life seemed “different” to others. My dad had died when I was 8 years old and my mum was deaf. Both of those things made me self conscious at parents evenings. Mum couldn’t communicate like the other parents, dad wasn’t there. Two things that were enough to make me feel I stood out like a sore thumb. In reality, I didn’t. No one really took any notice or cared enough about my situation at home. Everyone has something that makes them feel like they “stand out” or don’t quite “fit in”

On top of what felt to me like huge flashing beacons of difference, I was also incredibly shy and quiet. This again, created for me a huge insecurity that no one wanted to be around me. I was too quiet, awkward, no fun to be around. Of course none of which was true but that narrative took residence in my mind for a very long time. My shyness often led to situations where if I felt uncomfortable or was put in a situation where I was forced to speak up in front of many others I would go bright red in the face. This would exacerbate the more anxious and self conscious I became. I would feel like I wanted the ground to swallow me up so I could just disappear from the embarrassment of my obvious anxiety and discomfort that everyone could now physically see.

Over the years, I learnt to control this red ripening face reaction to my discomfort. I began to realise that it wasn’t as noticeable as I felt it was to others and those who did notice really didn’t care that much. This took away a lot of my anxiety and fear around this happening and allowed me to take control over how I reacted.

What I took away from High School wasn’t really a great education, I underperformed and under achieved. It wasn’t a supportive friendship group as I had a better group of friends outside of school, than inside its gates. It wasn’t a sense of belonging or safety.

For me school was just a somewhere I felt unable to find my place in, I wasn’t really a neat piece of the schools tapestry. I didn’t belong with the cool kids, because I just wasn’t cool enough. I didn’t belong with the nerdy kids, because I just wasn’t nerdy enough. I didn’t belong with the sporty kids, because I was rubbish at sport. I didn’t fit in any box reliably enough, so I existed between them all. Never really making good friends in any but being around for lots of them.

So school really only taught me to feel I didn’t “fit in”.

Inspiration · parenthood · relationships · self care · self development · self love

We hold their hands for a short while….

The real KazLeave a comment

But hold their hearts forever.

When they are young, you are busy and life never stops. Life is fast paced, little time to read that book, drink the hot coffee, soak in the bath. Their chubby little hands are always pulling at your clothes, asking you, “Why?” “What if?” “How come?” “When will we get there?” “Can we do this?” “But whyyyyyyyy?”

In those moments it feels, exhausting, restricting, overwhelming to be this little persons protector and teacher, the adult that they turn to for everything, that keeps them safe and supports their growth. You adore everything about these little beings and still you wish you had some time to just chill, read the book, chat with friends without wiping snotty noses or lay in for just a little longer than 5am at the weekend.

Now I look back and realise how fleeting that time was in our lives. How precious those moments are. Now I have the time to sit and read a book at the weekend but I know I’ll never be pulling my daughter up on my lap again when she’s fallen over and needs a hug or have the privilege of being the person to answer my sons first questions again and guide them into adulthood safely.

The early years are precious and hard, its easy to forget to savour them but we also need to be kind to ourselves and know it’s ok, to ask for some help to take a break because our kids need

caregivers who are present and patient and not stressed and reactive. Every parent feels guilty or like they have failed at some point but its the lessons we take from those moments that are important.

Now though I look at my kids of which two are adults and although I’m sad to never have the precious early years again, this season is different but just as special. They are amazing humans!! They take me places, we go out together as grown ups to the theatre, cinema, walks, gigs and I get to discuss our favourite things, learn about what they value and their points of view which are changing and forming. I get to admire the way they conduct themselves, the relationships they are forming and the lives they are creating, knowing that I played a part in moulding these kind, respectful, intelligent, motivated, positive men into who they are.

That is the most amazing part of being a parent. When they grow and you are proud of who they are and can look back and remember those sleepless nights and tantrums and realise it was SO worth it! The changing relationship from carer to friend, built on a respect for each other and who you are as people is priceless. I’ve a way to go with my daughter yet as she is only 13 years old and a mother and daughter relationship is different but equally as special. We are navigating our path and our relationship and I know she is still looking to me for guidance in these tricky teenage years.

It makes me reflect on the changing relationship with my own mum who is now 80 years old. She has been my confidante throughout adulthood. She supported me in an emotional and practical sense and as very often happens with many of us, those roles are now changing. I am now supporting her more in many ways and we are working our way through this change in the landscape along with my sister. I know how hard these transitions can be, our changing roles as a parent, we have to make dramatic shifts to let go of being the care giver to a friend to maybe the cared for one day. Life is always changing and teaching us and for me, I will just keep adapting and trying to be mindful of how hard these changes can be on our loved ones.

Who knows, I maybe looking at the next stage of my life holding the chubby small hands of grandchildren in the future, if that happens, I will be blessed x

career · Inspiration · self care · Self Development

When I grow up

The real KazLeave a comment

Childhood dreams……

When I was a child, I can remember imagining myself becoming a nurse or an author and writing books. My mum didn’t really talk about or encourage big ambition and I never really felt much more was possible than becoming a secretary or having a family of my own. When I daydreamed though I would dream of other more wild and unachievable paths in life, like writing a novel or working as a nurse in a hospital, at least they felt pretty out of reach at the time. I haven’t actually achieved either although I have always worked in a profession where I am caring for others. I almost became a nurse but never quite made it, life threw me a curve ball and took me down a different route and I never came back to it. No regrets there though, I still work in the field of care, which is in my bones but my family took priority and that feels right to me.

My caring career started as a personal journey when my first child was born with Cerebral Palsy when I was 18. That experience determined my path in supporting others who were in a similar position after my personal caring role ended. The thing is I also knew from a very young age I wanted to be a mum, have kids and that was where my heart lay so even though I hadn’t expected to be a young single mum to a disabled child, I was a mum and that felt like where I was supposed to be.

When my son passed away at 13 years old, I then pursued work in the caring arena starting as a childminder, then respite carer for disabled children, a nanny, a carer for elderly, an advocate and now a Social Prescriber for local GP surgeries. I’ve worked in social care most of my adult life and have a passion for helping others. Its a fantastic and rewarding sector but requires a lot of self care too and boundaries, especially when you have experienced social care from a personal perspective on the other end, you need to be able to separate yourself and take a step back.

As for writing, I have always enjoyed putting pen to paper, or now more fingers to the keyboard. I remember as a child my best friend and I would sit for hours with our Victoria Plumb notebooks, writing, talking and imagining our stories being made into books in their own right. Kaz and Suze, famous authors, just like the wonderful Enid Blyton, whose books I was devouring at the time. As a teenager I can remember fanatically chain-reading the Sweet Valley High series of books, whilst my hormones were racing and by the end of my teens I was a proud Stephen King and Dean Koontz horror addict.

It’s interesting because in thinking about this a memory resurfaced of a time when I was around 17/18 and I became quite low. The one and only time in the first 40 years of my life I can recall that I may have possibly had some depression. I remember sitting in my room, not wanting to leave, staying in bed but mostly, I remember writing, mainly poems. I think I still have them somewhere, in the back of a closet. They were quite dark poems and I find them difficult to read even to this day. This time of sadness and introspection soon passed and I moved into becoming a carer, in my personal and professional life and writing took a back seat.

Its intriguing to me that now, at this point in my life where I am going through some quite traumatic major life changes, I have finally come back to writing down my thoughts and seeing where it takes me. This process is becoming therapeutic to me. When I get my thoughts out and onto paper/ screen, everything feels clearer, there’s a clarifying of a situation and an unscrambling of the jumbled up stories that frequent my mind. Some fact and truth, others the result of me overthinking and hoping, catastrophising and stressing. I’m an overthinker and have recently become aware of the stories I can allow myself to create in my head which are not based on fact, so I am learning to come back to what is real. Writing helps with that. So for now this little blog is my therapy I think, my thought decipherer, and the blog allows me to explore ideas and thoughts about myself and that’s enough for me. Who knows maybe one day I’ll get that one book written and become the author I dreamt of being as a child but if nothing else writing heals.

Taylor Swift – Never grow up