How to navigate a shit show, by Jo Loach and Jesus Christ (or should that read the other way round?) …

Either way, I write this in recognition of all the wonderful women who have supported me through the repeated shit shows of the past few years. Those who showed up for me when all I could do was stink, rock, cry, fret and, or, lick the windows. I am referring to those who sat with me, talked to me, listened to me, hugged me, prayed with me, fed me, massaged me, took me for walks and basically LOVED me, when I didn’t know how to love myself. Without each of you, I would not be where I am now … no longer deluded in to thinking there will be no more shit shows to come, but way more confident that I have the support I need to navigate them, when they come. Because, this is really as good as life gets, even for us therapists, who are not exempt from losing our shit amidst an onslaught of shit shows. However, if we remain committed to pushing through and re-discovering ourselves, our friends, our God and our calling, we will remain able to hold others as they navigate their own struggles. What an honour.

And to anyone who has mistakenly believed that the role of a counsellor is to tell you what to do, let me explain that it is our role to hold you and a space for you to begin to grow up enough (yes growing pains do hurt), to realise that you are responsible and able to work out what to do, yourself. For, there is no greater gift than self-trust, except God trust …

In light of all this, I feel inspired to write to acknowledge with respect, my own and the struggles of others and some of the timeless lessons that exist within them. Because, I realise that sometimes, when we are really, really hurting, we may turn away from God. And yet, God wants to comfort, help, hold and sooth our hearts, especially when they are hurt, fearful, lost, broken and/or despairing.

When the shit hits the fan in our lives and particularly when unwanted situations or seasons drag beyond what we feel we can endure, we may start to have the following type of thoughts …

  • If God really loved me, he wouldn’t allow this to happen/me to feel this way
  • God must be busy/distracted by blessing all his other kids right now … lucky old them (thought in a cynical, sarcastic and highly envious, if well-hidden tone)
  • Perhaps he’s forgotten about me/doesn’t really care/I’m out of favour with him … because I’ve believed that I must earn/deserve his love, as if it all depends on me
  • I know God says he’s with me but, … is he … and if so, where is he …
  • I am paralysed by the uprising of the inner Kevin, exclaiming, ‘it’s so unfair’ …
  • I’m not sure I trust a God who can allow such horrible things to happen to me/every other bugger in the world
  • I don’t even want to look at God right now much less speak to him because I am f***ing furious but have been indoctrinated in to believing I am not allowed to feel the very feelings that God himself has wired us to feel as part of our human aliveness
  • Will this ever end/I feel anything different/better ever again?
  • How do I go to the God of comfort when it is him who is allowing me to feel such pain – isn’t that like oil and water?
  • I know (in theory) that God’s love for me is unconditional, but when I’m squeezed really hard, all the conditions I’ve put on him, to earn my love, start to pop up and out, ie I’m only going to come to you if you take this awful season away etc
  • How about a spot of bargaining … if I do x, y or even Z, God, will you do … ?
  • Perhaps you are just a figment of my imagination/a crutch/don’t really exist etc

God really has heard it all before because we are not alone in these thoughts! Just look at all the imperfect, mess making, peops that fill the bible. How very encouraging! Some folk may be better at pretending/hiding but most of us feel/think these things in times of struggle! God is not shocked! But waits patiently for us to bring it all to him so he can help us sift through it to find the gold within.

Our God didn’t beat around the bush when it came to telling us straight that we WILL have trouble in this world. Not, I believe because he takes pleasure in peeing on our bonfires of life BUT, because he wants to prepare us for life as it is, rather than as we wish it to be. By being prepared to work with the trials and the one who triumphs over them, we remain more connected to the one who wants to bring us through and keep our fire of life burning. True story.

Furthermore, God tells us not to worry WHEN the trouble comes because he has overcome the worst of the worse …. death on a cross (I don’t even want to imagine). Through this act Jesus paid for us to be connected to the giver of life for the duration of our lives and whatever they bring us. And while God respects our right to refuse him, when we stay connected, He helps us to grow, learn and heal through every shit season that comes. And he is not a half-a-job-Bob kind of a God, so he commits to continue supporting us, if we allow him, right until he takes us home to be with him in a place where there is no more tears or suffering. Wowsers.

So, if you are struggling, as we all do, know that God will use your struggles to stretch you and grow your shit coping capacity, because the shit aint ever gonna stop coming. And God doesn’t want you to give up and simply lay stinking when he has more good stuff for you on the other side of the current shit show. He will help you to keep getting up and keep putting one foot in front of the other for as long as it takes to reach the new season. And you will be different when you come out the other side. In a good way. Although sometimes we do have to stay down for a bit simply to rest and regather our resources enough to get back up again. We’re fully human, only God is both God and the son of a human. But don’t take my word for all this, ask God to help you with whatever situation you find yourself in. But if you do this, you must commit to not closing your eyes or heart to every attempt of his to do so.

For those of us who had parents who didn’t know how to comfort us in our sorrow or sooth us when we were afraid (or were the source of our fear), or encourage us when we fell, we need to learn that God’s ways are not our human ways. He is not imperfect like all of us; human parents and human children. He is the God who welcomes our pain, our rage, our despair, disappointment, confusion etc. He is a parent who will never greet our pain or tears with the words,

‘Do you want something to really cry for?’

This always confused me as a child because I can’t imagine any child, anywhere, any place, ever responding with,

‘Yes please daddy, shall I go and get the stick/slipper/instrument that you would like to beat a defenceless child who is way smaller than you, with?’.

Or in my case, the yellow handled stick that accompanied us on daytrips as a visual reminder not to ever let up our guard enough to behave like … children!

Our parents are human which equates to imperfect. We must forgive them for any hurt we incurred because of their humanity, not because it doesn’t matter or cost massive amounts to heal from, but because God forgives us for our humanity and imperfections … over and over and over again.

So, all in all, when we hurt, as we all do sometimes, God awaits us with open embrace. There is literally nothing we can feel or think that will prevent him from receiving us, along with all that we have within us. When we are drowning in rage, resentment, fear, disillusionment, doubt or whatever, this is when we need him most. And he doesn’t want us sitting with, suppressing or being alone with these when he’s right there, respecting our right to refuse him, but longing to hold and help us.

Sometimes my beloved Monty cat looks at me with such fury in his eyes, usually because I haven’t succumbed to giving him more food when he already has some in his bowl. And when he does this, my heart still feels like it will burst with love for him. And I try to stifle my smile! Then I realise that God feels this way about me and about you! Wow! He see’s our hearts beyond all the bullshit we create around them!

The biggest, fattest, cruellest lie of our time is that God does not love us. Of course, this does not mean that he loves everything we do, but that he never withdraws his love from us even when we are acting out, what we don’t know how to speak out. He understands that anything we do that is harmful to us or others is usually from the unhealed parts of our heart … he understands our human-ness because he made us. He is just waiting for us to bring it all to him so he can help us to bear our pain, heal our hearts and grow through the hard seasons. In this way God empowers us to keep living a whole, rather than a half-hearted life. Because that is the kind of God he is.

For many years, I used to sneer at his promise that, ‘sorrow may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.’

‘Yeah, right Lord, which morning of which year?’, was the cry of my heart for a loooong time.

Anyway, I am pleased to report that joy does indeed come … then go … then come again. And furthermore, God does turn our mourning in to dancing … then more mourning … then more dancing … so don’t ever stop at the sorrow/mourning phase for these are on a loop. Just keep going … but we must allow others to see and support us in our struggles because it is easy to lose sight of what matters most when neck deep in shit. While also remembering that the greatest source of comfort and help and the only sort that is available on tap at all times, comes from on high.

Yes, Amen and thank you Lord, for seeing and loving us all, despite all our bs. May we receive and share you more fully with every passing shit storm.

Smug Singles

Since Valentines Day is tomorrow, I felt to write a piece about a growing breed of us that I’m going to call the ‘smug singles’. This is an alternative take to the Bridget-Jones-inspired term, ‘smug marrieds’, which I’m reminded of as we approach the third and apparently final film offering.

So, I’m going to share my take on being a smug single. I do not see single-ness as any kind of excuse to skip celebrating Valentines Day, let alone as a lesser status. Love is the greatest gift that life can bring yet it comes in many forms reaching far and wide beyond those of the romantic. These range from pets, friends, family and the highest of the high, the giver of life himself.

To express my love for many, tonight I have delivered the last two of the ‘I can’t even remember how many I’ve written or sent’, Valentine’s cards. Because love is a cause for celebration in whatever form it presents, if it is healthy. I’ve sent cards on behalf of cats and dogs, whether the recipient has them or not, as I wasn’t as organised as I thought when I bought them. But who’s going to complain about receiving a card about love through the post, instead of a bill, just because they don’t have the referred to pet? At least this what I am counting on!! I’ll report back should the findings reveal a different reality!

Anyway, back to the subject of singleness – this is the ultimate opportunity to focus on and thoroughly spoil oneself. I seem to have started this the second 2025 arrived and I’m yet to stop. It could be an expensive year. But a fun one full of treats because although it’s taken the best part of half a century to learn it, I am finally putting in to practice that thing folk call self-love. At least on a totally different level to what I have before. And it’s great fun and full of pringle-esque qualities! I certainly wouldn’t ever expect another human to treat me to the phenomenal number of treats that I’m treating myself to!

One of such treats was my beloved monthly reflexology session this evening. This gives the gift of taking me to a whole new level of relaxation. Instead of my mind actively pursuing at least 6000 different trains of thought in any and every given moment, it was temporarily switched to standby mode. Utter luxury. I really didn’t want to be pulled back out of it! If only I knew how to do this myself, especially between the 3 – 5 am window of wakefulness. But anyway, in preparation for the reflexology, I even remembered to resist the call of those cupboard housing/hiding, chilli peanuts. A gift my reflexologist didn’t know I was giving but that felt important to me.

And in the name of love, I’ve been fortunate enough to have received three bunches of it from friends, in the form of flowers this week. I love flowers. I love the colours, the designs, the whole shebang. And I encourage my fellow flower lovers not to whine if no-one buys them flowers but to buy their own – at this time of year, finances ought not be a barrier when daffs are only a quid a go. Life is too short not to have fresh flowers in your face/house every day. I am thanking God for those hands that bought the hattrick of bouquets this week. These are now displayed around my home in addition to those I bought myself.

The beautiful man that I am new-ishly single from used to say he felt he couldn’t get a look in on buying me flowers as others always beat him to it. To which I replied that a woman, or at least this woman, can NEVER have too many flowers. Not only are they in vases all over the house but they’re printed on bedsheets, laptop covers, dresses, anywhere it’s possible to have the buggers!

Just to clarify, I was incredibly sad to separate from the special, sensitive and supportive soul that my ex is. I cried for three days straight acquiring myself an unsightly scab from excessive hooter blowing. But after the crying stopped and the scab healed, I found a new peace. This man could give the average Christian (including this one) a run for their money when it comes to consistently show casing the kindness of God. A true fact not to be misunderstood as bitterness but accepted as the fact that it is … for until us Christians can recognise and work on our flaws and weaknesses, we remain much poorer rep’s for God than we could be!

Anyway, while this sincere man supported me through the horrors of the past eighteen months and we learned much from each other, it was a mutual decision to separate. It was borne of the realisation that although we are a partial match, we are not a full enough match. And we both have enough courage, faith and self worth to hold out for a fuller match or simply stay solo. Plus, we love and respect each other enough to continue enjoying food and film nights together when time allows. Winning! Although he has told me straight that our dinner dates will be discontinued upon his successful recruitment of my replacement! Fair enough I say!

Back to the subject of smug single status, it was just after Christmas that I began to reflect on this as I listened to my seemingly ‘not-so-smug-after-all’ marrieds, discussing their stress and distress over spending Christmas with the in and out-laws. There was certainly no such stress for me. I spent every minute with people I love being with, indulging in activities I love indulging in. It was fabulous if exhausting.

I will add that I’m definitely not, ‘anti-marriage’. Not at all. I am fortunate enough to have a few friends that model marriage as a healthy place to live, love, learn, grow, and heal. They’ve each been through significantly shitty times but where both party’s are willing to work with their individual and collective shit, they have come through stronger and if not wiser, certainly more tolerant, understanding and forgiving! But I’m equally aware many marriages are made of misery. And life’s too short for that.

And so as Valentine’s day is almost upon us, I find myself reflecting upon the reality that love presents itself in many ways beyond the realms of the romantic. Therefore there’s really no need to imagine one is missing out if single this Valentines. Not when there’s an open invitation to join the smug singles scene!

A good friend shared with me that they had been praying for a partner to do life with but who wasn’t going to pester them for sex! I’m perimenopausal so I can relate! And when she remained confused and perplexed as to why God hadn’t answered this prayer, I suggested that there are probably as many men praying for a woman who wants lots of sex. And so in fairness, God’s hand could be ever so slightly tied on this front!!

And so, when it comes to embracing the smug singles scene, a few years back, myself and three wonderful girlfriends accompanied me to a Valentine’s night featuring the soul man plus a room full of couples. Us singles were the first to request songs … my friend Ju shouted out ‘Champagne’, to which I responded, ‘you have to go to the bar Ju’. She rolled her eyes and retorted, ‘it’s the name of a song Jo’!. As my friend G tells me, ‘I forget you live under a rock and don’t know anyone’s names Jo’. Anyway, the fabulous four of us smug singles were first on the dance floor and probably last off! Being single was not going to see us stuck on the sidelines!

And therefore, in the same spirit, this year I shall be enjoying a barn dance on Valentine’s night with a friend from church. Then on Saturday I’ll be at a soul event put on by a super talented, all-round amazeballs friend and her hubster. I genuinely hadn’t spotted this was a Valentine’s event until myself and my crew of girlfriends were rounded up, signed up and paid up!  And I’m determined to have myself the biggest portion of fun going despite the lack of a traditional Valentine’s partner!  I love my friends, food, singing and dancing so, ‘Happy Valentines’ to me and all!

I even learned from my lovely, younger and more on-trend than myself reflexologist, that celebrating Valentine’s with your girlfriends is known as Galentines! I’m all over that!

And then next week, I’ll be taking my friend/adopted ma on a date to the cinema to watch Bridget Jones number three. Oh what fun. My philosophy is that the shit is always going to keep coming so it’s best to ensure the fun supersedes it!

On a matter that probably has nothing to do with being single/married/smug or otherwise, two separate friends came over this week bearing flowers. Apart from instantly being upgraded to ‘top-banana’, friend status, they were escorted round the house to see all the crazy changes I’ve made (whether they wanted it or not). I talked them through what I had done and what is still to be done along with my reasoning of how it’s all about increasing comfort. Whether the new duck feather filled duvet (lush-erooney), the bed facing the window so I can start my day watching the trees, or all the sensory soothing soft items spread all over the place. All accompanied by sparkly lights. Obviously!

For each friend, I invited them to participate in an experiential way to get the full flavour of what I am creating. I did this by lifting my cherished and sublimely soft bedside rug on to the new duvet and inviting them to the soul soothing experience of touching it. For the first friend we both stood there speechless with wonder as we ran our hands over it. We/I probably could have continued that all day but we were interrupted by the arrival of my long suffering/serving church dad who came bearing my new pink chair! How exciting!

The second friend that I invited to the ‘touch a rug’ game went a step further after making contact with their hands by laying their face and torso on it, while wearing what I can only describe as a facial expression that whispered, ‘this is BLISS’!

And it is, because I reckon every soft-texture-needing human ought to be starting and ending their days standing on something so sublime! There is so much we cannot control in this life but so many little tweaks we can make to increase simple pleasures to counter balance all the crap.

To conclude, on the business of being single, this is a lame arse excuse not to love Valentine’s day, your tribe or your life! All types of healthy love are what hold us all together and in my opinion at least, the smug singles scene is seriously underrated!!

Tribute to a beautiful purple clothed soul

Jane, Jane, far from plain,

how I wish I could see you again,

Your friendship was real,

Your courage made of steel,

You were curious of mind

And your heart was kind

Both funny and caring

Status and bullshit

had no bearing

Your passions were varied

and really quite vast

So many you built

from back in the past

Not all understood

But they got you just

as best as they could

Whether politics or motorbikes

Or Santa pod or jive

Gosh you were very, very alive

Your family came first

Your passion, your purpose,

Rachel and Mark,

Ella and her art

Your partner Phil

And John too

All were very loved by you,

Over the years you opened

your home and your heart

To those from the theatre

along with their art

You trained to listen

to the stories of others

Of life, love and loss

brothers and mothers

You shared of your wisdom,

your care and compassion

For supporting others

was your true mission

So that’s how we met

The three of us

We were working together

without a fuss

Steph, you and me

We didn’t need long

For us to see

That we shared in a song

Our friendship was meant to be

We hung out together

In cafes and places

We talked about everything

While filling our faces

Whether family or fears

Or our client cases

with laughter or tears

We shared it all

Over all these years

We visited the Freud museum

And gardens and tea rooms

We shared in our joys

and we shared in our suffering

We did this thing called life together

Sharing so much more than just the weather

Jane was kind,

strong and wise,

creative and colourful

With depth in her eyes

She supported us all

And I could never imagine

What would her, befall

Our friendship has spanned over many years

And supported me personally through all my fears

Life bought highs and life bought lows

And why hers has gone now,

nobody knows 

We shared together in laughter and fun

And everything else that is under the sun

we shared this precious gift of life

her absence now,

cuts like a knife

Her death seems 

Very, very surreal

We’ll never again hug

Or share in a meal

How can it be that she’s no longer here

I can’t say this without shedding a tear

For Jane was as real as real can be

But she’s no longer here for you or for me

I’m so very grateful that she came

To give us her presence, invest of her love

For me, I see her

as a gift from above

On this matter, we didn’t agree

But there was always room

for you to be you

and me to be me

You gave me such kindness, love and care

When I was hurting, you found time to spare

God Almighty, this death feels so unfair

I know you wanted to watch your family grow

You didn’t want to have to go

I wonder whether you did know

There was so much love you were able to sow

You gave me the gift of your presence in my pain

And because of that I will never be the same

You reminded me just how far I had come

When I couldn’t see because I was too undone

You taught me to love myself when I’m in need

I’m very grateful that you sowed me this seed

Oh what a gift you have been to me

I wonder if you knew this was what I could see

I never told you the impact you had

And now this makes me so very sad

Of time I thought there would be more

Of this I felt so very sure

But your time was gone

And with it, the light that you shone

I’m so sorry Jane

I never told you this

of the impact you had

it was very remiss

because the friendship you gave

made me very glad

But I still see you now in your blue suede coat

Just nipping out to have a smoke

Your fingerless gloves

And your purple car

I still see you and love you

just as you are

Your kindness, compassion,

your smile and your eyes

your patience and care

through all of my sighs

you encouraged my writing

and to honour my needs

You saw, got, and loved me just as I am

and you taught me to do the same

now this holds me through all of this pain

I wish I told you when I saw you last

But now the time has already passed

So I’’ll say it here

Thank you, Jane,

for being my friend

you were thoughtful and true

right to the end

Jane, Jane,

You were far from plain

Oh how I long to see you again

But grateful I do remain

that you came

And now you live on

deep in my heart

And feed me from there

Right into my art

Thank you, Jane,

For being you.

I still sense you when I feel blue

Thank you, Jane,

For being you.

Jo n Jesus on a jaunt

Before covid I would religiously go to the seaside every two months or so. Somehow, I have never reclaimed this essential part of my mental health maintenance program. And so I began to rectify this last weekend.

As a serial crap sleeper, I used the insomnia to my advantage and arose early to beat the traffic. I arrived at my favourite sea facing establishment ahead of the local park runners. This meant no queues for ordering breakfast and my very favourite table directly in front of the sea. Yippee for me!

Here I was able to scoff a generously filled and tasty sausage bap washed down with some insomnia defying caffeine and H20 for balance. All while savouring the scenes of the sea. After a cloudy start the sun poked through before eventually colouring the sky blue and shining all over the shop.

After a bit of writing and a lot of contemplating, the call of the beach was too good to resist. I wandered along the sand taking in the wonder of the waves and all that serenity inducing space. I spoke to a couple of randoms and petted some dogs. I met a lady way braver than I who was awaiting a friend to swim in the sea with. Gulp. As much as I love the water, I get cold swimming in an indoor heated pool! Apparently, the cold of the sea gives her a rush of endorphins. Personally, I prefer endorphin evoking activities where I can keep my kit on.

On that point, I changed into my running gear ready to run along the seafront fuelled by sausages, caffeine and blue skies. Magic! Apart from worrying whether I was going to be decapitated by the near invisible fishermen’s lines!

In addition to trying to capture the sensationally stunning seascapes on my phone, I wandered around looking at the stones. The more I looked, the more beautiful they each became with their unique colouring, shapes, sizes and position in relation to others. I found myself struggling to choose which ones to take with me. I offer them in my practice for clients who like to have a visual image of the invisible experiences held within. When I look at these stones, weathered by life yet stunning and original, I realise that  God feels this way about us. Wow right.

I should have headed for my still-forty-minutes-away accommodation after that what with the early start and the crap sleep, but the charity shops were calling. I wish I didn’t always have to overdo EVERYTHING! And sure enough my system started to crash while the drive still remained in between me and my ability to do so. If only I could learn to stop what I am doing before the mounting of the melt down!

Consequently, the drive was accompanied by a lot of cursing and moaning followed by an equal amount of praying and repenting. Then when I was finally two minutes away my sat nav played a game of silly buggers which meant watching the time to arrival get longer and longer. Ugh. But, I eventually landed at my beautiful air b n b on the river. The presence of the hangry beast dictated I put the oven straight on to sling my home-made shepherd’s pie in. Only after I’d eaten it did I slowly become more human again.  At which point I could start to relax and appreciate my surroundings.

The air b n b was just as gorgeous as I remembered it to be; a leather reclining sofa, TV and video player (remember these?), a well equipped kitchen, ample heating, welcome biscuits (choc obviously), milk in the fridge (nice touch) and a sanctuary vibe. Heaven.

I was glad my host didn’t pop over until the hangry beast was fed. For when all was calm, it was great to see him and he kindly pointed out Mars, Jupiter and Saturn on the most strikingly beautiful, clear and starry night. Wowsers.

I wanted to watch a film but my system was too exhausted, so I granted it a hot shower before an early night.

Apart from waking from 3-6 which enabled me to connect to my grief and write a poem for my friend’s funeral, I slept in until 8am. And when I drew up the bedroom blind the scene awaiting me evoked an involuntary gasp of wonder. Frost covered tree branches and glistening river with a backdrop of misty fields as the sun made its way through it all. More wows. How grateful I am to nature and its soul soothing properties – thank you God for wowing us with all of this.

I drank my coffee in bed watching the trees and blue sky’s while being sung to by the birds. Just beautiful.

As a rush-a-holic, rest doesn’t come easy but I’m practising twenty-four glorious hours of it from here on in.

Wonderful.

And, I’m in the process of booking my next trip here for I don’t want another few years to pass without doing so. Life is fleeting and way too precious not to indulge in all the simple pleasures on offer  – utterly divine. Thank you, God.

But, the downside to being in an annexe attached to the main house is that one, or at least this one, can’t help but wonder whether the inhabitants next door can hear the noise I make given that I could hear them! Be it my belting out worship songs to God (who I have to remind myself isn’t deaf, unlike a growing number of my ageing friends – harsh but true – what?!) or farting fuelled by a high fibre diet. And to any men prone to getting all judgy about this, as far as I am aware God made man and woman with the same digestive system and I for one don’t appreciate keeping anything in because men consider it unladylike not to! And I happen to think the invention or rather inclusion of the farting facility is very thoughtful of the God who obviously knew before the beginning of time, that this would offer endless hours of fun for the less stuffy among us. As one who lives alone, I sometimes feel these are wasted when there’s no one else to witness them. Especially as Monty doesn’t even raise a whisker in response. Either way, hopefully my host will be far too reserved, polite and English to comment on such vulgarities! I’ll send up a few prayers to this effect!

All in all, what a wonderful all round treat. And as the sun did insist on shining, I could not resist venturing out for a short-ish walk to take in some fresh air and scenery. I do resent feeling so vulnerable as a woman when walking within woods whose views are obscured from the main roads. Perhaps what men may not appreciate is that most women know they are no match physically for most men should we be unfortunate enough to encounter one with violent tendencies. Anyway, a somewhat hurried, uneasy, prayer filled walk through these woods, and I was back on to the main road. And then back home for the rest of that scrumptious shepherd’s pie followed by a Sunday siesta.

My planned film night got lost to the need to go to bed at 7pm. Sad but true!  But deliciously restful too.

The only downside to my trip was it was too short so I’ve booked a longer one for next time!

Gotta love a jaunt to the seaside.

The death of a friend

Today is a week from the day that myself, the other friend who made our group of three, and the family, will mark the death of my friend and celebrate the gift of her life. I will call this friend J.

My tears are residing just under my eyeballs awaiting any opportunity to spill forth. I don’t like to restrain them, but I do need to maintain my responsibilities of adulting. I feel deeply sad that I will never get to sit with J again. How I loved over a decade of the three of us sitting together, chewing the fat while inhaling high fat fodder.

I feel extremely sad that I will never again get to feel the warmth and love of her presence or her hugs. She wasn’t a typically English hugger, by which I mean she didn’t attempt one of those weird hugs where people try not to actually touch you or where you part hug after half a second for fear of being too affectionate or unreserved. J was one of the best hug givers in my life. The last time I saw her we had a super long hug; proper style. I read somewhere that to benefit from the healing properties of a hug you must maintain it for a certain number of seconds. As a ‘big’ rather than ‘small’ picture person, I can’t recall how many seconds are required so I like to go long!

On that day, I didn’t know that it would be the last hug we would ever have in person. We  did attempt to meet again but the cancer had ravished her body so rapidly that she was never well enough for another visit. I’m grateful for that last hug but as with all those I have loved and lost, I long for just one more; one more hug and one more of everything else we ever shared. It hurts that this longing will not be fulfilled. And now when my gorgeous ball of ginger fluff comes looking for a hug, I try to put down what I am doing and give him my attention. For we never know when a hug will be our last.

My heart hurts and so does my body. Not just from all the painting and furniture moving as I change my house from top to bottom, but also from the distress of grief that my body holds. As another friend remarked to me, as I have the living loss of estrangement from my family, my friends are my family and their deaths all the more pertinent.

In recognition of all this, yesterday was the day of my monthly treat of a massage. What an absolute gift from God my massage lady is and not just for me, as she is offering a special treat of £35 for a one-hour massage in February – ask if you want her details. I can’t recommend her enough.

Anyway, yesterday my poor knackered body and weary soul laid down upon her heated bed where she draped a soft, snuggly blanket over me, put on soothing sounds and began to massage me with oil. I find healthy, safe, human touch to be such a powerful source of healing. And for the first time I was introduced to a massage gun – I did not know these even existed before that moment. B told me she usually reserves this for big men but on this occasion my body was so incredibly knotted that she got the big guns out for me!! It was divine. For the body cannot lie and knows all the stress and distress that it holds whether recent or historical. And that massage was just what the Doctor ordered. At least the soul, spirit and body doctor, otherwise known as the Almighty. (access free to all without waiting lists)

I reluctantly dragged myself up and home where I gifted myself to a period of ‘being’ with a break from doing. A friend recommended the film Resistance about the true story of Marcel Marceau who transported many children to safety during the horrors of the Nazi regime. It took all of about ten minutes of watching this before I had to reach for the ever-present tissues. Children deserve to have their innocence preserved and protected rather than ripped away by human brutality in whatever form. Having just passed the 80th anniversary of all Holocaust related, I was horrified to hear that some young folk are believing b/s that none of this existed. I know that all of us can be drawn by denial as a way to protect ourselves from tragedy, but really?

Anyway, shortly after getting all cosy and comfortable, settled and snuggled with Monty while being a bit snotty and a lot sad, I was snoring! It was so wonderful to give in to what my body so desperately needed.

Grief takes energy on every level whether to contain it while carrying on must occur or whether to let it have its way when time allows. Death and loss cause our hearts to hurt and as with every other type of healing, the internal resources required to heal, take energy and need extra rest to recover. I haven’t given myself this, so to rectify it, I’ve put an immediate ban on everything other than the essentials. I have a wonderful window of responsibility-free time which is in touching distance and I want to get there without collapsing first. And as writing is how I process, voila …

I did prioritise time out to celebrate a friends birthday though because friends are my family – these are the people I do life, loss and love with. And another family/friend sent pictures of her beautiful little new-ish human. Those at the start of life are such a tonic for all things end of life/general life crap.

My friend J was family to me and I will always be grateful for her ability to move towards me and not away, when I was suffering. While we also had fun together and talked about much, she was there when I lost contact with my personality, humour or ability to conversate. Such a precious friend. Such a monumental loss.

I remain grateful for my other friend who made up our group and for the gift of sharing our memories, experiences and loss of J. We will dedicate time next week to the place where the three of us spent so many happy hours together. There we will acknowledge J in any way that is meaningful to us. And then we will go to the official celebration of her life. But before that we are going to see the film about J’s beloved Bob Dylan. I’ll take plenty of tissues!

Once I am in my ‘space-to-be’ window, I will see what words want to come forth to convey my experience of J. I didn’t get to say goodbye in person or tell her what she meant to me or how I valued the gift of her. And so, I am planning to speak on the day that we celebrate her life as my way of acknowledging and honouring her.

Death, loss and grief are painful. But it remains true that the only thing worse than grieving, is refusing to grieve. Sometimes it is remaining connected to the pain within our own hearts, that shows us that we are still alive. And for as long as God grants me, I am all for that.

Cloudy with a chance of casserole

Halfway into January, I’ve noticed a pattern of behaviour that is pertinent to my process of change. I often look at my relationship with certain experiences via my position on a scale. When I recognise that I need to move along the scale, I tend to leap from one end to the opposite end before landing somewhere nearer the middle (eventually, with a bit of a hope and a lot of prayer).

Back in December, I felt decidedly smug as I sat on the sofa feeling warm and snug. Unlike some of my married friends, I don’t have any thermostat police residing in my home which means I can keep it as warm as I like. As a child I hated the house being cold (not just physically), so I like a warm home now. I especially enjoy this warmth not creating a conflict with anyone.

However, I felt decidedly less smug or subsequently snug, when I received the corresponding heating bill! This meant my laissez faire attitude to flicking the heating on and forgetting all about it had to be immediately replaced by taking on the thermostat police position, as well as the, ‘I don’t want to be freezing my arse off’ position. It’s called practising balance and boundaries while managing internal conflicts! Who needs a husband when I can create conflicts within myself!

Yesterday, I started my heating bill reduction program by taking advantage of my morning coffee sweats, a midday run, a slow cooked casserole and later, a long soak in a hot bath. In addition, I utilised my ‘can’t sit still’ way of being, or rather of excess-doing, approach to free time.

When I eventually did sit down to catch up with a friend online, I did so sporting my dual purpose blanket-scarf, hat and proper blanket (on top of my usual clothes) while keeping my paws and insides warm, courtesy of hot tea. It’s become a creative challenge to manage my basal temperature while restricting the number of hours I put the heating on for. I’m attempting to reduce the next bill enough to avoid another sharp intake of breath followed by a swift release of any lingering smugness.

In other pattern spotting, smugness reducing realisations, I discovered that the difficulty I had in re-gaining weight, after being unwell, has now ended. I congratulated myself heartily for not gaining more weight over Christmas. But now, having formed a nightly sugar shovelling habit in the name of getting shot of leftovers, I’ve begun to show signs of a paunch. As I’m far too uncomfortable with that, I’m now implementing restrictions on my intake of remaining Christmas chocolates.

This process has been further aided by Channel 4’s program, Eat Smart, with The Glucose Goddess. I love this – it is simple and has pictures! It also makes sense and offers manageable tweaks to eating habits that reduce glucose spikes. In turn, this can stabilise mood/energy and hormones. A hattrick of wins that counterbalances the loss of sugar intake.

Anyway, this program shares hacks like, ‘eat your vegetables before your carbs’, or, only eat sweet treats after a balanced meal of protein, fat (yes you heard me right – fat is NOT the enemy or rather sugar is the latest replacement of it) and fibre. Apparently, layering your gut with these slows the absorption of glucose thus reducing the spike. This matters because such spikes cause inflammation in the body which contributes to other issues. And, it turns me right off from spending my evenings on the sofa mindlessly shovelling until I am surrounded by empty chocolate wrappers.

I find the human relationship with food to be utterly fascinating. This latest glucose related knowledge offers another creative challenge around how to implement these hacks within daily eating practices.

The third area of learning is around my relationship to spending. I have never suffered from spend-a-holic-ism. Largely helped by a dislike of noise creating crowds plus impatience aggravating queues. I have my fair share of ‘ism’s but spending hasn’t been one of them. Fuelled further by a fear of lack, dating back to when my seventeen-year-old self was kicked out of home.

Anyway, the more God free’s me from tight-arse-fear-driven-itus by reminding me it is all God’s money anyway, the more I permit myself to treats. No more, ‘that cheap old crap will do’, and lots more,’ it just WONT do so I’ll have something I really like’. I’m not talking reckless, just generous, because this is how God is with me. And if it’s alright for him, it’s ok for me to be like this with me and others.

As per my process of change, I have leapt from watching every penny, to waving my plastic cards in the air like I just don’t care. Serious spending sprees are alien to me, but I am adapting frighteningly fast. I’m not talking designer, status-seeking bollocks. But I am talking quirky, characterful, creative and original. Oh yes. Think charity shops, second hand markets/shops and the likes, with a bit of FB market and B & M thrown in! But now, the financial controller part of me is stepping in with stern suggestions around budget shaped boundaries.

The learning never ends!

On a lighter note, this week I discovered a fitting purpose for my cake forks. A friend gave me four stunningly beautiful, if naively small, cake forks presented in a pretty box. These are fabulous to look at but evoke enormous irritation when used for the job they are intended for. They are so tiny, they can only pick up the most minute crumb of cake. As someone not up for being slowed down on any front in any way, these were consigned to the ‘find another use for’ pile.

I typically use forks for cake because I can’t be arsed to wash my hands before or after eating it as opposed to having any delusions of ladylike-ness. But the ones I use, bear more resemblance to a shovel than a minute-morsel-picker. So, yesterday while indulging in a ‘currently all the rage’ avocado starter (or perhaps I’m slow to this particular party), I suddenly realised it was a bit too mushy for finger food. (Does anyone know how to play the lottery of pick-an-avo, better than me; read more green ones and less brown?) Either way, in a moment of genius, I realised the tiny not-for-cake forks would be perfect for spearing pieces of slightly mushy avo with. They would also prevent any need for handwashing – gotta love a two birds approach right?

The other light-hearted enjoyable exchange occurred during my supermarket meanderings earlier in the week. See previous blog post.

While I was checking out the bedsheets covered in the word ‘sale’, the lady next to me, declared,

“No ironing?  I’m in’.

We both laughed and she went on to tell me that her mother gave her one piece of advice ahead of her marriage,

“When your husband asks you to iron something for him, do one item extremely badly”.

Again, we both laughed and this time, I replied,

“I went a step further and didn’t even get the husband!”.

In fact, the more I listen to some wives talking about their husbands, whether ex or current, the more I think a wife would be a wiser option! Or perhaps the ultimate combo would be a husband and a wife!

A day of two halves; sorrow and laughter

We’re born, we live, we die a thousand deaths across a lifetime then experience a thousand and one re-births (if we’re determined) before our body breathes its last.

Today was a day that bought life and death up close and personal.

Grief is such a peculiar and deeply personal animal. It’s a week today since my friend died. It’s been full of ordinary life which continues as before, except it can never fully be as it was before. But the business of adulting has taken front stage while the grief has travelled along the sidelines, never far away. None of us can simply sit with sorrow all the time, neither is it helpful to ignore it all the time. The balance of giving space and silence to connect with and honour the grief versus tending the ongoing responsibilities of life, is a deeply unique and ever changing experience that we must experiment with, to find and then maintain. And the emotions of grief, in whatever form, can be exhausting. This means more rest where possible. Not my forte.

This morning, I had an exchange with the family of this friend. They were able to share the place and time where we will acknowledge her passing and celebrate her life. They sent songs that are speaking to them in their sorrow. And these interactions cut straight to the heart of my own grief ripping it right open to allow the rawness to come forth in response. She’s gone and she’s not coming back. It takes time to absorb something so incomprehensible, irreversible and painful (not to mention a shit ton of tissues – I congratulated myself on re-stocking them yesterday!)

Today as I listened to those songs, felt the sentiment of them and remembered the times of us dancing together. I laughed and I cried and I danced some more. I felt a little lighter. Not a lot but a little.

And then my time of being with grief was gone as today I was taking a good friend out for her birthday. Talk about one extreme to the other; death to celebration of life. I asked for some help from on high to make the transition so I could fully engage with my friend’s celebration.

At her request we started as all good celebrations start ie with a good sit down scoff. One of the first songs to come on the radio was my friend’s beloved Teddy Pendergrass – she looked at me in wide eyed wonder and I looked right back at her!

‘Well, I never know what He’ll do but I did say I prayed for your birthday!’, I offered.

This friend is a staunch atheist who graciously tolerates me praying for her even though I continue to ungraciously point out when the God she doesn’t believe in, answers them (which is frequently!)

Anyway, in response to Teddy playing from on high, I gestured an invitation to the imaginary dance floor in between the restaurant tables. Up we rose for a little shimmy as it would have been positively rude not to. And dancing is one of the things that bonds us!

Anyway, during lunch, this friend reflected on the times she had been at that very venue with her mother, who she misses. I asked her what her mother would say to her if she was there now. Without a second’s hesitation, she replied,

‘Happy Birthday’!

And we laughed so hard and for so long, I wished I hadn’t shovelled my food in quite so fast! That’s one of the other things that bonds us; silly, shared humour!

The radio continued to play many of my friends’ old favourites! Good times. High five Jesus!

A little post lunch saunter down the road saw me buy a bunch of snow drops for their encouragement, beauty and flower gazing potential. Plus, some pansies that were actually violas, in purple and yellow, because who doesn’t need these in the Winter.

As I love learning first hand from those who know way more than I do, I decided to pick the flower selling man’s brains for snowdrop survival strategies. I learned that snowdrops are not to be moved from their pots while growing – this is where lots of folk gone wrong apparently. And, they need to be around other snowdrops to realise their full growing potential.

‘Oh, like humans you mean?’ I asked’.

‘Yes’, he replied!

Wow, I love how nature reflects these lessons back to us all the time if only we are willing to lean in, look and listen to their wisdom.

Next on the fun menu was a leisurely, browsing session round a huge supermarket that neither of us usually go to. In there we bought a whole heap of stuff we never knew we needed, thanks mainly to clever marketing and a repeated use of the word ‘sale’. Plus, we got to dance again on another imaginary dance floor in between the clothes rails. We’re nothing if not resourceful.

On the return to the car my friend remarked that I hadn’t been rushing like I usually do. Wow! Part 2. Now this really is progress. Go me. Slowly of course.

All in all, we had fun. A super-birthday-sized portion of the stuff. And it felt good. As well as totally in contrast to the start of the day. This is life in all its duality and richness, joy and sorrow, laughter and tears, life and death. The ability to celebrate the life still being lived while acknowledging the life that will no longer be lived in bodily form yet lives on within me.

Each day really is a gift, even the ones we’d rather send back. All we can do is keep living, loving, losing, learning and for me, dancing!

Sunny soul-soothing Saturdays

What a glorious day, more so for the stretch of sun-hiding-grey we have just endured.

Today, I cancelled my scheduled plans to gift myself the space and solitude that is essential for me to grieve well. It was this week that ended my friends suffering of cancer. And for me, the best way to grieve is to grant myself a break from doing, to give extra time for being. I need the space, silence and solitude that allows spontaneity to have its way.

First thing, this involved fresh coffee, drank in bed while savouring the silhouette of the tree branches against the changing sky. As a recovering rush/do-a-holic, who regularly relapses, nature offers one of my most effective ways of stopping. Nature gives of its ever changing, soul satisfying scenes, that stun me in to stopping for long enough to savour them (sometimes!). Gosh that was a lot of s’s.

Anyway, the deepening of the blue sky enhanced by the increased presence of the sun saw me unable to resist going out to play in God’s great playground. I’m a visual person and I wanted to see how everything looked in the crisp white frost. I got dressed and brushed, if not washed (don’t judge, I was going solo) and sauntered off to see where my feet took me. I wanted to get a paper anyway – one that most people hate and some judge me for reading. But hey, I don’t believe everything of much these days, but I do enjoy the human-interest stories, tv guide and recipes of this paper! So, I opted for the two birds’ approach of picking up a paper and letting my feet take me wherever they wanted to.

As is often the case, they took me straight to a body of water, on this occasion the river. I love to see it dressed in all kinds of seasons especially the magical, white frosty ones. It didn’t disappoint with the scenes it displayed. Next, I travelled by the river taking photos of whatever captured my attention along the way. Apart from the man whose camera was way bigger and better than mine! While prone to ‘monkey see, monkey want’ tendencies, this time I was grateful I wasn’t lugging that large lens around. I hate carrying things when I’m walking.

Scene after scene of stunning beauty sat there waiting to wow me. And I was wowed. At one point, a robin flew across my eye line before perching on a bit of wood off to my right. I love how robins have this tendency to fly in front of me singing,

‘Look at me, look at me,

I’m as pretty as can be’.

As I am known to sometimes miss what is right under my nose, I am grateful for their attention ensuring style for I do indeed find them to be as pretty as can be. As I fumbled around trying to take a picture, the robin refused to hold the pose and flew off in to the undergrowth. When this happens, I like to think it was a sight and moment just for me! If I do manage to capture something beautiful, I like to share it!

As I took a different route home, I happened to walk past a child’s playground. I answered the swings call to have-a-go on it. As I was happily swinging higher and faster, feeling free and childlike, it started making a disturbing creaking noise. Personally, I didn’t think I gained that much weight over Christmas but perhaps they are made for children younger and lighter than me!

At one point I even had to shed my jumper, scarf and coat. Not for long though. The top to toe refurbishment of perimenopause means my internal thermostat is still faulty. But at times helpful when the weather is cold but I am not.

The next offering of the day was a beautiful tree standing firm and proud while providing a meeting spot for the local winged choir. It sounded so beautiful I captured it on my phone to share. How I love these sights and sounds!

A little further along I passed the man who served me my newspaper. He told me he only walks by the river in summer. What? After showing him a selection of photo’s of where I had just walked (whether he wanted to see or not), he said he would go home to find suitable footwear and check it out for himself. I hope he did for it’s all right there for us to see and savour.

All along my saunter through these scenes, I was remembering shared moments with my friend. I feel so enriched for my experiences with and of her.

Fortunately, I was only a few minutes from my house when the movement of my body bought on a parallel process of some internal movement within my body. What started as a gentle knocking on the back door became more persistent with each step.  Some folk may call this an overshare, I call it, we all have a body which does all kind of weird, wonderful and un wonderful things and as a therapist I’m for talking about it all! Fortunately, I made it home in good time minus having to attempt a sprint in my walking boots.

And now, I feel lighter in every way. This despite having fed every part of me; the heart, mind, body, soul and spirit. That’s what I call a banquet and I feel very satisfied.

Now I will listen to worship music while making a sweet treat for tonight where I will be indulging in four of my favourite things; time with a friend, food shared, a film I’ve been wanting to watch and a fire for warmth. Log burner to be precise but that didn’t flow as well.

I might even treat myself (and my friend) to me having a hot bath first and perhaps a cool-bed-sheeted siesta.

And more time sat basking in the sunshine, tree gazing and birdsong enjoying. I may even get to read that paper but then again, that might have to be a treat for tomorrow.

Gosh I love days like these.

While my friend is no longer in her body, my experience of her remains very much alive in my heart, mind, body and spirit. And I’ll write more about that later.

Happy Saturday peops; whether you are happy, sad, or in between, nature or whatever your equivalent to this is, invites you to indulge. This is how we take care of ourselves.

Selah … rest and reflect

I learned the word Selah this morning while reading. It was in the context of God’s invitation to stop, be still, breathe deeply, pause doing and practise being, with him preferably. Although there is no greater invitation, it remains easy to rush into doing without the pausing that can so powerfully change the trajectory of the day.

Anyway, during the weird and wonderful window between Christmas and New Year, I have practised pausing, in between excessively enjoying myself. One of my reflections has been about the double-sided reality of everything, including us, life, the year we are about to end and the one we’re about to begin.

2024 like every year before and however many more we are granted, has its own unique challenges and gifts. While we all prefer the gifts, it is usually the challenges that offer the greater opportunity for learning and growth, when we choose to accept them.

I often hear myself telling people, ‘It’s not what happens to us but the way we respond that matters.’  I love this. At least I do until a personalised shit bomb explodes in my face bringing my own words back to taunt me! One must at least try to practice what one preaches!

An area I’ve started to work on and will continue to prioritise in 2025, is enlarging my shit coping capacity! God, please note this is not a request for more tests! At least not until I’ve fully recovered from the last one, please!

Now on the brink of 2025, when I look back, I am filled with gratitude. There were large portions of 2024 where I was drowning in ingratitude. The upgrade in attitude was a slow, painful one. So, when I saw something on Facebook asking for a word to describe 2024, I chose ‘mixed’. This is because it was the special gift of friends who loved me through the worst of times, that bought balance to my experience. However, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to change my word to ‘educational’.

For 2024 is the year that I have realised in a more embodied way than ever before, that every day really is a school day. The older I get, the more I realise that I really know very little about very little. And that is ok. Especially as I have an even bigger appetite for learning, than I do for cake (honest, although Christmas may be an exception due to a friend’s home-made Christmas cake, nom, nom, nom).

What really excites me is realising afresh that God is the ultimate teacher who knows mine and everyone else’s preferred style of learning. He knows whether our brains are wired in a neurotypical or neurodiverse way, as well as our preference for visual, experiential or whatever other fancy arse learning styles whose names I can’t remember. In my case, it’s the serial making of messes and mistakes style of learning. God teaches us however we learn best because he wants us to learn and grow … this is what living things do.

I’ve finally realised that when this student is ready, I see the teacher is all around me, always has been and always will be. And I realise that I have been a very inconsistent student because I’m usually so busy trying to do everything I love that I miss what is right in front of me.

How grateful I am that God is a patient teacher who shows me the same lesson as many times as I need to see it. At least I am when I start to get it. I’m not such a great student when amid a shit show so intense I can’t see beyond it. And that’s where those amazing people otherwise known as friends come in to save the day and spare me from totally losing the plot. I see all those precious people who sit with me in my suffering when I struggle to sit with myself, as gifts from God Almighty. You can’t buy that. (but you can pray in the ability to give and to receive it).

There really is learning in all parts of life. I have come to recognise that the challenges I resist and resent the most, usually offer the most enriching, expanding, enhancing lessons, when I surrender to learning them! These challenges contain the ‘gift of growth’ that is concealed within a challenge that we often wish to bypass or return to sender.

In 2024, I have been fortunate to witness a close friend receive a gift from God in the form of a beautiful baby. How wonderful to feel and savour that unique new human smell! And to be reminded through their wide-eyed wonder of the magic of life despite the sorrow.

At the other end of life, I have sat with a friend whose body is dying thanks to the ravages of the life stealing shitbag, that is cancer. This reality magnifies the truth that the most important part of life is and always will be, loving people with our presence.

There is nothing more important than being with each other, at the start, the end and all the highs and lows in between birth and death. That’s it right there … the overriding lesson of 2024 and every other year … to love and be loved; in joy and sorrow, life and death.

And so, as we prepare to cross from 2024 into a brand spanking new year, maybe we could commit to carrying this spirit of Christmas, aka the spirit of love, right through to Christmas 2025 and beyond.

I know I’ll need a lot of help from on high to practice this! But I also know that when it comes from a sincere heart, it’s the type of prayer that God is all over!

Happy New Year all.

The cultivation of calm

The experience of calm is often longed for but largely incompatible with our fast-paced culture. However, an inner sensation of calm does not have to depend on external conditions. They do help of course just as certain conditions hinder the sensation of calm.  

This period before Christmas can be excessively busy, social and stressful resulting in much rushing around. This can feel chaotic and exhausting but not necessarily calm. And therefore, the ability to cultivate calm amidst this season, is even more precious.

Yesterday when faced with the task of shopping, that can so easily overwhelm me, I chose to spend a little extra time asking, ‘the man who can’, to give me a lot of extra help with this calm maintaining malarkey. I knew that with 2 lists of items to buy from six different places, I could quickly descend into raging and snarling mode. I knew that I would struggle with all the stress inducing scenarios that shopping is filled with; crowds, noise, queues and self-service machines that don’t recognise items from their own shops. And therefore, I would need some help from on high to maintain my calm without losing my cool or anything else.

And so it was, after admitting my need for help and asking for a large portion of it, I headed off to the shops keen to see how the experience would unfold. Generally, I have about a two-hour limit for shopping, but I parked that knowledge along with the car and practised calmly focusing on making my way through the shops/lists. I was especially delighted that upon arriving in shop number one, I could still find the lists that I meticulously prepared before leaving the house. Whenever I get to a shop only to discover that my list has disappeared from the depths of my bag, I experience an instant switch into snarling beast mode. That’s not fun for anyone.

Anyway, I am delighted to share that I got round all six places which provided most of what was on my lists. A momentary thought as to whether I could manage a seventh place was quickly dismissed. I could not. I had reached my limit and wished to quit while still on the right side of it. This is progress.

As I drove home, I reflected that I had managed to do all that within less than two and half hours. Not with my usual approach of rushing around like a lunatic causing myself and anyone around me entirely avoidable stress, but by doing this whole calm thing. I even caught myself smiling at people and engaging in conversation. While I didn’t want to prolong the whole experience, I did quite like it! Which is good to remember ahead of doing what may be one of several ‘last’ trips to the shops today.

This cultivation of calm is a revelation! And a very welcome one! Especially while in a season where emotions can become heightened, stress can arise unexpectedly or in line with fast-growing but never-ending to-do-lists and moods can drop as fast as sugar laden treats are inhaled. The ability to find calm, amidst this Christmas season, is a super special gift for the season. For everyone.