tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47313077482470151862024-03-14T05:51:39.871+01:00anecdotes of a manic mum - a new chapterWhen brain injury strikes - documenting our journey and talking candidly about learning to live again after severe traumatic brain injury shattered my family's life in 2011. Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.comBlogger705125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-83081067022961132782019-09-09T12:17:00.004+02:002019-09-09T12:17:35.160+02:00I'm Moving...<div style="height: 0px;">
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Hey all!</div>
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I am moving! Well, I am moving website that is.</div>
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I have decided to combine my two blogs - Feed Me Beautiful and Anecdotes of a Manic Mum.</div>
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<a href="http://www.feedmebeautiful.com/"><span style="color: #45818e;">www.FeedMeBeautiful.com</span></a> will now incorporate a range of topics - keeping it about my life - the hopes and joys and struggles and wonder it entails, but also the reality of living with someone who has a brain injury. Feed Me Beautiful will also be about the way I live; plant-based living, sharing my recipes and a dose of travel and a small amount of 'how to avoid putting your make-up on at the traffic lights' beauty tips!</div>
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I really hope you will enjoy Feed Me Beautiful.</div>
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Thanks everyone for your support!</div>
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See you over on<span style="color: #134f5c;"> <a href="http://www.feedmebeautiful.com/">www.FeedMeBeautiful.com</a> </span></div>
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Peace</div>
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<i>Tamsyn x</i></div>
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Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-53578930526917562472019-06-24T11:53:00.000+02:002019-06-24T11:57:15.131+02:00How to Cope with 'Occasions'<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My baby at story time (I love that I still get to read to them! Well 2 out of 4 still) the night before her first day at 'Big School'</td></tr>
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Bubbling sound and strong aroma of coffee signifies my morning cup of life-saving juice is ready - it's 6.15 am; I'm bleary-eyed, have not slept well and my cat won't leave me alone till he's fed - circling my cold feet and (although I didn't) I just want to kick him sky high and shout 'GIVE ME A MINUTEEEEEEE!!!!'</div>
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It's been an emotional roller-coaster of a week; our youngest had a 'taster day' at big school, our oldest girl turned 14, and it was father's day too to boot. Several significant life events happening all in one week.</div>
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Father's day, and sea air brushes our faces. Huddling close, the kids, Alex and I stroll along the promenade. Lola has taken charge of pushing her dad in the wheelchair (she usually does, I think it's her way of connecting and looking after her dad), Esmie sits on his lap cuddling him to warm him up. They sporadically describe a scene to him - a seagull pooing mid flight, a child crying - 'don't worry dad, that kid was crying but the mummy was there', the kids innately making sure their dad is reassured in his non-seeing world. Later I help Alex to drink his tea through a straw, as his shaky hand holds the cup, I gaze at him, into those bold, oceans-deep, blue eyes, the eyes that encapsulated me so many years ago. I wipe the tears from mine as suddenly I feel so overwhelmed by how Alex needs help with everything now. And I wish, I just wish, he could see his children as they are today...</div>
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The events of the week had me pondering how I cope with these occasions. As usual, there is no hard and fast rule, no 'dummies guide to'... but it is something I felt I wanted to explore and write about...</div>
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By occasions, I mean any event or significant day, of which there are many! Arguably, every day spent without your loved one is an event and significant, but the significant life events - your child losing their first tooth, their first day at school, the birthday that your loved one doesn't even know is happening, Christmas, anniversaries... These days highlight and put your grief in a spotlight. Like you have been shoved on stage, exposed unexpectedly and you look on at a sea of faces expecting you to perform. Because usually, you do, and if you are reading this then I am making the (maybe incorrect!) assumption that you are not doing so from a corner in which you are rocking, whilst simultaneously drinking gin, through a straw out of the bottle...Generally, I think it is safe to say that, the faces of those who cross your path hide trauma of some sort or another.</div>
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So why is it especially these occasions that get us? Personally, I know it's because the sudden deluge of the 'what could have been' speeches grab centre stage in my mind. For me, it's as though, regardless of what a 'good place' I have been in leading up to this day, my subconscious demands acknowledgement of the sadness. I have recently been ok prior to the day, then awoken in the early hours of the morning and pain has just engulfed me - before even a conscious thought has entered my head - 'oh, that's why...' I finally rationalise after some seconds of wondering why I am THIS down.</div>
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So, I (yes one of my favourite words coming up...) ALLOW it. I no longer tell myself I should be coping better, or be over it by now. I honour the pain I am in, I wallow, even, in it! Because if I try and make it go away, I pay it negative attention, which reinforces it more deeply.</div>
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I try (if possible) to have an easy day that day. I will make time for a walk by the ocean alone, or I will just sit drinking a cup of tea with my thoughts and my feelings for a while. I may write, or I may call a friend and just cry doing that really annoying crying voice thing where your friend thinks a talking mouse has rung them...</div>
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Also, there's experience, experience and time tell you that you have gone through this time and time again, and you will get through this one too.</div>
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My advice to you would be to be <span style="font-size: large;">GENTLE</span> with yourself on those days, where possible, take yourself off, allow all the sorrow that is woven into your being to show itself for a while, then allow the rest of you, your life, the beauty in this world to weave it's luminosity around you too. FEELING it is healing it (what a dreadful saying I have just made up!).</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Be gentle, be kind, allow it</span>, and the pain will lessen after, you can resume normality. You will get through, it's ok, it's all part of this healing journey you are on.</div>
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There will never be a cure, there will probably never be a day that goes by when you don't feel some sadness at some point for the one you lost, but those times you are really feeling it are just as important as those days you are ok, they preempt the relief even, that you are ok.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">peace,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tamsyn x</span></div>
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Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-38897704559810564022019-06-14T18:20:00.001+02:002019-06-14T19:21:57.700+02:00Why I despise the term 'moving on'...<h2 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;">Why I despise the term 'moving on'...</span></h2>
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'Moving on' as a term is a big No <b><span style="font-size: large;">NO</span></b> for me! I feel like screaming each time I hear people say: "but you have to move on"... No! You don't! (Please note: I know you mean well when you say this!) You move with it, alongside it, through it, you move forward, you don't move on in the sense that it gets left behind! Actually moving on for me has connotations of forgetting and pretending and faking it. 'Moving forward', however, I like! This is a turn of phrase I use often - I feel it offers a more apt explanation involving movement, a phrase in motion, not a stark cold 'on'. Moving forward is something you actually have no choice over, and this is a hidden blessing. Time propels you in the direction of 'forwards', life sweeps you along accordingly. Our thoughts move, our minds succumb to adaptation... eventually!</div>
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Stagnating is not an option, even if you rest there in sad thought, broken-hearted, mourning for a time, the <span style="font-size: large;">forward's motion of life</span> will bring you with it. Sometimes this can feel violent, an intrusion on your timings of processing things - 'I'm not ready!' Your conscious mind protests... But your subconscious knows the way, and trusting the motion of life will carry with it quiet promises of hope. </div>
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">HOPE</span></div>
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In the early days of Alex's accident, I clung to hope with a diligence I didn't know I possessed. Looking back, I understand why I did: the reality of listening to the Drs, neurosurgeons, nurses, Occupational therapists, physios, speech and language therapists, carers, CCG, care home staff etc etc etc, meant I would have to face the fact he wasn't coming back, and this, I could not face... Until this something-I-couldn't-face clambered up and overtook me several years later, when the elastic band of hope of his return I was holding steadfastly onto, snapped abruptly. </div>
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That pain.</div>
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That indescribable pain.</div>
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I remember the day vividly. I had taken the children to the beach after visiting Alex on our 10 year wedding anniversary. As I unpacked the picnic, lit the fire to cook up sausages for my babies, I see a surfer in the distance. For a second my mind plays a trick on me - it's him! Of course it is! I knew he would be back! Then, as though someone wrenched simultaneously from me my heart and stomach, I double up, creased over in unbearable pain. Of course this wasn't him, what was wrong with me? And Tamsyn, he's not coming back. As I type these words, tears escape as I still recognise and have to face the reality of these words every day now, as I will for the rest of my life.</div>
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I let go of my hope.</div>
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It fled, and laid me bared open. </div>
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Facing my ultimate terror. Yet I had faced it, full frontal! No going back, no excuses, I faced it. I then allowed myself to go through what I had so desperately fought to ignore.</div>
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I am not going to pretend it was easy or pretty! Or that it is over even now. But knowing I was holding reality in my hands meant I could<i> <span style="font-size: large;">move forward...</span></i></div>
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Ultimately, that's where this life takes you if you want it to or not! So you might as well 'allow', for in resistance comes such a <span style="font-size: large;">fear</span> of how the acceptance of your new reality will be. It was as terrifying to face as I had dared to imagine, but what I had failed to recognise and imagine in this, is that even the unbearable truth of Alex not coming back, I would get through. And I continue to face this head on.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>'The face gets good at hiding the heart'</i></span> I have been quoted saying. And although this is true, through acceptance, what emerged in me was a capacity to love that grew, my soul appreciated on an even deeper level my children and those around me, I found a depth within me that, through my fragility and the acknowledgement therein, enabled me to be more.</div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Accept, move forward, grow, love and consequently</span></i>, <span style="font-size: large;">heal!</span></div>
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Tamsyn x</div>
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Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-60354550867774796342019-06-13T11:57:00.000+02:002019-06-13T11:58:52.176+02:00Our youngest, Esmie Rose<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">... Alex’s blindness has come with added challenges for us as a family. Eager to help him in his new sightless world - we’ve attempted all kinds of different sensory things with him. Alex is unaware he can’t see, but the other day as Esmie declares </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“daddy, I’m growing!”</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">He (unprompted) held his hand to feel her (so I believe he knows on so</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">me level), in doing so he feels her height and laughs, she looks puzzled and asks why he’s laughing, Alex replies </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“you’re not growing, you’re tinsy!”.</span></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">.. whereupon she hit him with her tinsy hand and told him off for being a horrible dad!</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I love these moments</span></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">, these interactions, these snippets of ‘normality’. </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">If you know our youngest Esmie, you know that you never, I mean </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">NEVER</span></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">, call her tinsy ... </span>Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-38835219627827330652019-05-23T11:06:00.000+02:002019-05-23T11:06:11.748+02:00Memories Hurt: A Transformation of Thought<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: justify;">Panting loudly, I hail a fellow runner - 'I</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">t's a </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">beautiful </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">one this morning!' he returns my cheery declaration with a big smile - 'It is indeed!’ comes his friendly response.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;">Stopping to take a photo, breathlessly staring at the beauty of my surroundings, I welcome the brief ‘catching my breath’ pause. The path of my life reflected in my running style: <i><b>sprint</b></i>, run, <i>w a l k</i> in intervals, sprint, bend over cursing & fighting for breath, then run again and </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>repeat</i></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;">. I know it is a beautiful one today; I see it. But today, however, I don't </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">feel</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;"> it. I am in a ‘bent over, panting’ phase I think to myself today. </span></span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-4aa8e62c-7fff-0954-442c-7b7ddb7a2a49"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Piece of white paper flaps lazily in the slight breeze - hand-in-hand with my littlest, I am drawn to this piece of litter, </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ALEX</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is scribbled on the front in large letters, nothing else, just his name. 'Thank you', I think, thank you for showing me that you are always here. As I smile in acknowledgement to his reminder, I can't help but allow some tears to escape as I point out the piece of litter to Esmie saying - ‘look, daddy showing you he's always here!’ </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Beaming up at me, all cherub-cheeked and mischievous eyes, she responds: ‘Oh yes! And look', (she proceeds) ‘that car is showing us too, the number plate is ETA at the end 'Esmie, Tamsyn, Alex! And he shows you at the gym - all the weights are called ALEX!’ </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know you are here, surrounding us in a different way now, with <span style="color: red;">love</span> pure and unfaltering reminders of this - even in a piece of old street litter!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But today</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I just miss you</span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. And that's ok. I want the kids to know I miss you, because I want them to know it’s <i>ok</i> to miss you too. I feel it connects me still to what we did have - nearly 8 years ago now. Because times are just so very, very different now. Children raised ‘fatherless’, patchy memories serve the bigger two to remember who their daddy was, but the younger two have none. It comes with much sadness and regret that I watch them grow, and you cannot: that they grow not reaping the many benefits they would have done from knowing you as the daddy you used to be, the input, the advice, the counsel you could have offered. Some moments I allow myself to sink in this regret for the ‘what should have been’. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But there’s not much room for that - life flow urges forward, dragging you with it whether you like it or not, whether you feel ready or not!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Missing you is the worst part, in anyone having lost someone they love, I am sure they will agree. You can’t turn back time, relive a few moments to steady you, then flip back and carry on. You just have to accept. I carry my memories silently, so silently that at times I don’t have many, they seem to almost evapourate the less I look at them. Although not looking at them has been quite deliberate over the years, suppressing them made it easier, however, I wanted so desperately to be brave enough to face them, so I sometimes allow a few of them out.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-49a1QVwDbAA/XOZhufXqEcI/AAAAAAAAEQU/BjnFQa_yyE8j7CtFlTZvSJyWuaP6EgydQCLcBGAs/s1600/DSC00129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-49a1QVwDbAA/XOZhufXqEcI/AAAAAAAAEQU/BjnFQa_yyE8j7CtFlTZvSJyWuaP6EgydQCLcBGAs/s200/DSC00129.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">--- </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">I watch as you run out of the sea, smiling, wetsuit on, surfboard under your strong arm, grabbing a small child in the other as they run down to greet you. Running at me you shower me with ice-cold salty wet sea kisses and I protest! Get off! But you insistently cuddle me, kids bundle on top and we are a jumble of wet sand, legs and laughter.</span></i><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> ---</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">And I push the memory away again...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Memories hurt, they make my heart beat slower, time pass too quickly, getting faster, further and further away from you and who we were. They force a wedge in the pre and post life, it’s jerky path wrenches at my heart every time I look at what's gone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I catch my breath, stand back up, re-ground myself in the power of the transformation this path has sent us on. I hold to the characters we have forged, to the bond it has given us as a unit, a family unbreakable (just you try!) and the <span style="color: magenta;">LOVE</span> that has infiltrated and enriched our beings. We have chosen to open our hearts to the transformation, not close them to the angst, sorrow and despair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I believe, however you can, you must learn from any situation - even if it takes you many years! It will liberate your mind, support your decisions and behaviour. If you enter your thoughts with humility and love and even just the merest notion of </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘ok, I am willing’</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> then you will be guided to the highest path you can walk/sprint/run repeat (!) on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our time on this earth is short, the loving relationships we have are precious, our minds are to be nurtured, and I can honestly say that, although today I am not ok, this is part of it too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is ok, to not be ok - cliched this saying may be, but true it is!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You may not be able to choose where you tread, but you can certainly choose how you tread it.</span></div>
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Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-78170735465077655672019-05-16T19:00:00.000+02:002019-05-16T21:24:53.556+02:00One of the Last Times... <div style="text-align: justify;">
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And so, I have walked one of the last walks to school with my last child in primary school. Sunny morning, fresh sea air whispers peacefully - revealing space and breath and beauty. Holding her hand tight, I tell her how proud I am of her for her amazingly calm attitude towards her SATS and how hard she has worked. It's a big week, but I have done this 3 times already, and thankfully Esmie has had much training from her older siblings about the fact that "SATS don't matter, you'll be fine, just don't worry because they will be over before you know it, plus mum gets you lots of treats while you're doing them". Amen and hallelujah to bribery I say!</div>
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This little one is a veritable fireball of <span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">love</span> and <span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;">laughter</span> and <span style="color: cyan; font-size: large;">animation</span> - she launches herself at the world with vigour and curiosity, with equal energy - she immerses herself in all her relationships. I have learned much from this being of mine. I have keenly observed and thus learnt from all my children - they are, after all, new to this life, so their child-like wonder approach to it is a welcome reminder to us adults! Exploring each part of it with a fresh perspective. They live in the moment, appreciate the smallest of things and display vast altitudes of emotions! They are utterly fascinating when you stand back to just '<span style="font-size: large;">be</span>' and observe.</div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: large;">Running from your feelings</span></div>
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My children have saved me - in the early stages when it was simply 'just survive', I was forced to get out, get up, do school runs, cook, clean, do washing, etc; I had no choice. At times this made me want to explode and run far, far away! I just needed to stop! But I couldn't, and this ultimately pushed me through. Eight years in, I am able to allow feelings to surface at times, without the fear that I will never reemerge. However back then, I lived in terror of the magnitude of them and the threat they posed - the <span style="font-size: large;">iceberg</span> beneath. I ran, constantly, from my feelings: only for them to do just this - engulf me and break me, then, bewildered and staggering - I had to get up and carry on, slamming the iron door with bolts on top once again.</div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;">Coping is a subtle but deliberate shift in perspective.</span><br />
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Watching the world through a child's eyes; you can only learn. They open you up, widen your gaze and shift your perspective. Coping is a shift in perspective at times; a quite deliberate one that you must decide and correct yourself upon when you slip. Having said this, however, at other times, it's merely about battening down the hatches until you come through some kind of 'other' side. </div>
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Being 'child-like' in your mind can be a good thing! Observing my four, I witnessed time and time again how they didn't run from their feelings - they felt them, allowed them, then moved on. Wow! What strength children have to experience and to feel their true emotions. Gradually, I began to realise that to be less broken, I had to allow and not reject my feelings, for my body and mind to be slightly freed of weight, and therefore move again. It's like when you allow your feelings, you are limbering up your emotions and thus in time, this movement of emotion becomes the strengthening of <span style="font-size: large;">you</span>. My emotions flooded me at times and I wanted nothing more than to run from them - but I eventually became better at knowing myself and that I always did, at some point, get back up again, providing I allowed the <span style="font-size: large;">freedom of feeling</span>. The freedom to feel liberates and strengthens, you have less to fear - because you have felt the emotion <i>AND</i> survived! Knowing this infuses you with emotional power and strength.</div>
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-size: large;">Children as our teachers</span></div>
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The essence of a child is pure and it is innocent, it's inquisitive and accepting...</div>
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Having watched my children cope with and learn about their 'new dad', I have taken many lessons from them. For example, I remember a big shift in my attitude towards the carers in my home. Although I get on with them and am grateful for the job they choose to do - I wouldn't be able to have Alex home if they hadn't chosen the career they had! I find it tough - an extra person, a new person, total strangers that I have to train and educate about Alex and who he is, how to be with him and so on, they act as a reminder of all that went 'wrong' in my life, a reminder that my normal is so very different from most. But the kids - they have offered cups of tea, smiled, engaged, asked innumerable questions, chatted freely and have been acceptance personified. I have tried to adopt their accepting attitude and moved in front of any <i>'this isn't how it should be!'</i> thoughts (although I have had many!), and chosen to thank them for their care rather than resent them for what they represent - even if resenting is understandable, it doesn't serve me in a healing way!</div>
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I guess what I am trying to say, is, it is surprising if you remain open, who you can learn from - and life is that - it's school! Even if you don't have children, you can still adopt their attitude. I remain fixated in awe at mine and have everything to thank them for.</div>
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<i>Tamsyn x</i> </div>
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Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-42284743211774695992019-05-09T16:41:00.002+02:002019-05-09T21:48:26.709+02:00Our New 'Normal'.<br />
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Bleary-eyed, sleep-filled, lola comes downstairs to join the breakfast gathering... She leans in for a cuddle, I put my arm around her, kissing her head. My other arm rests on the kitchen counter, I sip hot coffee as I practice my morning gratitude ritual (simply naming 5 things I am grateful for, I try not to always make number one wine), marvelling at the kids and their abilities, their wide-eyed, joy-filled personalities, contagious is their energy; I marvel at how different the times are that we are now living in - how far apart from the early days we are, how far we have come: flurry of week-end breakfast activity, pancake frying, smoothie making whizzing away, kettle on - it's a veritable hub of life and happiness and fun. There are 9 kids here this morning, and I begin to reassess the sanity behind my 'open-door' policy!</div>
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This is our new<i> 'normal'</i>. We are all aware that no matter how many other people are there, the one main character is not: their daddy is not; and sometimes that pain smarts.</div>
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Grief has affected each of my children differently; each different age and stage offers with it a different path of learning for them - to understand who their dad now is, and indeed who they are and who they are becoming as a result. As teenagers, play therapy is not a desired intervention or particularly helpful technique - they would laugh in my face if I suggested clay modelling or finger painting! So finding ways round talking and helping them move through their grief, without over or under-doing it, is a tricky task at times! I will be covering ways I have found of helping them at different ages over the course of time. </div>
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One of my children I needed to 'check-in' with this weekend. We have had a few discussions recently about the anger they are feeling. Having got to the roots of this - that they felt abandoned by their dad, even though they recognised it was not his fault - I suggested counselling at school.<br />
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"Have you thought about it further?" I ask, </div>
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"Yes, I did, but I decided that because I can talk to you about everything, I don't feel the need. With you I know what I want to say and I feel like you get me." </div>
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Suppressing the 'yes! I am getting something a little bit right in the teenage years' dance of victory and taking a deep, measured breath instead, I respond: </div>
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"I love that you feel able to talk to me, and you know I am always here and always will be angel face (oh yes - they will never be too old for me to call them that!), but I would never be offended or hurt if you felt there were things you couldn't discuss and wanted to discuss with someone else" </div>
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"I know, but I realised you are my counsellor mum..."</div>
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Well that did it for me, and I cuddle my child and allow a couple of my tears to fall as they too dissolve into tears. My child proceeds,<br />
"...And the only other person I would want to discuss this with is dad...and I can't"</div>
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This is often what has been said to me by this particular soul of mine. Not being able to chat things through with their daddy. </div>
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Allowing and Validating vs Protection</h3>
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As parents I think we always want to protect our children from any pain; seeing our child in pain or suffering emotionally is heart breaking.</div>
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As a single parent, often winging it and just putting stuff out there, hoping-against-hope that I am not irreparably fluffing them up! All I can respond with at times to their pain is the acknowledgement, the validation of their feelings; the comfort and the encouragement - letting them know how extraordinarily incredible they are for dealing with what they do. </div>
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I cannot fix them.<br />
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I cannot protect them from their pain.</div>
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This is their path - I can accompany them, advise, love and nurture them, but I cannot take their pain away.</div>
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Pain Becoming Constructive</h3>
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So the pain needs to become constructive. I have to role model how pain constructs if you choose, it does not destruct and break - it can, if you let it! But through many open discussions with the "I wonder what you feel you have learned from daddy not being here like he used to be...?" preemptive question, gently, my children have articulated the strengths they have gained from the tragedy. </div>
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Dealing with each individual child is a separate learning curve, their own unique way of expressing themselves and how they feel comfortable communicating is paramount to successful communication with them and helping them through their grief. I have an <span style="font-size: large;">enormous</span> amount of respect for my children - and I feel that they have worked as hard as I have in finding ways to cope.</div>
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They have become wildly compassionate, utterly accepting, open, loving, put-any-one-at-ease children. Able to communicate and express in (mostly!) non-confrontational ways. They are friends. And the impact they have on me as a grown up (as I stand in awe of these beings) is unquantifiable. </div>
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That's what I got from my kitchen coffee moment the other morning! </div>
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<i>Tamsyn x</i></div>
Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-84635075512760742132019-05-04T15:00:00.002+02:002019-05-05T09:56:14.102+02:00A Beginner's Guide to Grief.<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Ok, so a misleading title, there is no fixed way or determinable path for grieving. It is unpredictable - scary and most of the time you feel you're just seconds from slipping off that precipice into the depths of sorrow and despair forever. Wouldn't it be great if a step-by-step guide existed?! Disappointing and painfully, it does not, and this road is a treacherous one.</div>
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However, we do all have our minds and thus our freedom of choice, hence the picture - <span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-large;">CHOOSE JOY!</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Let me explain...</span></i></div>
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You have to release and allow the swing of that pendulum of life.</div>
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In the beginning days/weeks/months you have to fight hard to seek joy, hold gratitude; it seems an impossibly futile task at times. However, with time, this propels you back in the other direction, the pendulum swing grows fainter. And with the effort to feel joy and feel that smile, so grows with it your strength and ability to cope, because life IS different now, irreparably different, and it will never be the same again. </div>
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And sometimes, you <i>will</i> feel ok.</div>
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And sometimes you will genuinely feel your <span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">smile</span>.</div>
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Then the land-sliding onset of guilt for feeling ok, or enjoying that smile... oh and what a confusing cycle it makes for!</div>
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With the questions and the ponderings:</div>
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"Did it mean that smiling means it takes away from the love I had?"</div>
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"Surely I should never feel happiness again?"</div>
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"Is it a betrayal of the feelings I had for the one I loved?"</div>
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"How can I feel positive emotions once more? Because, let's face it, without that other person by my side in the same capacity anymore, the pull of the weight of that loss holds me down, reminds me of what that person meant to me. Or at least it always did until I <i>felt that smile."</i></div>
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But you have to feel that smile because otherwise the natural pendulum of life will not draw you back to the rhythm of coping. It IS ok to feel that smile. In fact it is vital to your survival that you feel it and allow joy. </div>
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No one has ever written a book about coping with brain injury that will be your exact same journey. No one has ever grieved in the same way you will - because each trauma is as unique as the individual experiencing it. That is why, although we can all draw similarities and hope from others, this journey can feel so lonely.</div>
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Sometimes it feels lonelier the more people you have around, because it so starkly and crudely highlights the one missing. These times you dig a little deeper, hold on tighter to the gratitude of being surrounded by love and people who care.</div>
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The thing is, your grief will always be there, it will define you. BUT it can define you in the most <span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">beautifully inspiring way</span>. Having seen what you have seen, felt the horror of emotion that you have felt, you can choose to arise - renewed and stronger, with a depth of compassion and understanding for those around you. Or, you can choose to internalise it and let it drown you. Embittered and beyond repair! This may sound drastic, and I don't want to be overly dramatic! And maybe it's just me?! But I had many an occasion where I had to deliberately choose <span style="color: #e06666;">love</span>, not hate; <span style="color: #8e7cc3;">peace</span>, not bitter resentment - and boy, at times it was hard!</div>
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Grief is no easy thing, it is an ongoing, never ending thing. But you will grow and you will learn to live alongside it.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What's it like for me now?</span></div>
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I find for me now, nearly 8 years on, that I am very aware of my need on occasion for quiet times and space; equally, of my need for friends and family and fun and hilarity and business. I need distraction and sometimes just to sit with my grief. I now know who I am as a grieving person, but also how well I live alongside it. I know my grief and myself, they are symbiotically entwined and one allows room for the other when it's needed. Grief and I have a mutually respectful relationship - but this has taken time and effort. I am grateful to it for being the catalyst for my growth as a human and a mumma.</div>
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Over the next months, I will discuss my coping mechanisms: how I have - and am getting through; how I have, at times, had to 'man up'; and, at other times, just cave in and shut myself (emotionally) away in the 'woe-is-me cupboard'.</div>
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I think we can all agree I have rambled enough for now!</div>
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Peace,</div>
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<i>Tamsyn x</i></div>
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Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-83716816737417865032019-04-30T12:14:00.000+02:002019-04-30T12:14:17.861+02:00Eight years...<br />
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It has been nearly 8 years since my husband Alex suffered a severe traumatic brain injury. Since our life as it was ended. And no, time does not fly when your path is riddled with grief and loss. I have had to learn hard lessons and deal with vast amounts of trauma and emotion, but with this as the foundation of my life, I have a critical depth of understanding of how precious life is as a result. I strive and succeed often in seeing the positive, and choose joy every morning I awake, and I want to show others that they too can and will smile again.</div>
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I have decided on a new direction for Anecdotes of a manic mum, hence the add-on 'A New Chapter' - let me explain:</div>
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It has been mulling about in my (very) little brain for a while now. I have recognised that my path in life has not been an easy one - and I continually strive to see the best, be better and raise my children in a balanced way despite parenting alone. I have thought long and hard about 're-sharing' and documenting my journey. However I have to listen to my heart, and I feel that in being open and honest about what I go through may be of help to others.</div>
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I have been contacted several times over the years by people going through similar/similar but different situations - and I want, from my experience of parenting children alone after my husband's accident, and my knowledge of grief, trauma and living with it and four not-so-little-anymore-beings who are going through their own journey of grief, to be open, real and share ways of coping. There is not a 'one size fits all' method of coping, you need to carve out the right way of coping for you. However, having tried many ways of coping and trying to get through on more than just survival mode, I feel I have some advice I can offer and a few pointers at the very least!</div>
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I have gone from sinking in depression and desperation and losing all hope - to building myself back up. And through accepting my situation and spending a little time on myself built into a hectic daily regime of Alex 'stuff' and 4 x children's schedules, plus running my business (<a href="http://feedmebeautiful.com/">feedmebeautiful.com</a>), I am able to deal with my grief in a much healthier and more intuitive way.</div>
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I do hope this may be of help to someone who may find themselves out there, alone, awash with a life shattered by brain injury, loss, trauma or grief.</div>
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Talking is GOOD - being open is good! It heals and I believe in it! This is what I plan to do here - talk! </div>
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Thanks for taking the time to read.</div>
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Tamsyn x</div>
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<br />Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com1England, UK52.3555177 -1.174319700000069142.4995277 -21.828616700000069 62.2115077 19.479977299999931tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-86908110283287231562015-07-09T22:17:00.001+02:002019-04-30T10:14:06.454+02:00Dear Alex, A long awaited update....<br />
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Dear Alex,<br />
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It has been a while, although I continue to visit you virtually everyday, I just felt like I needed to write, although I still feel the need for time and personal space... I won't be writing again...I take a day off a week as I need to to be 'me' too... I am training to be a Nutritional Therapist- I shall be qualified in a few months....I need to be able to provide for our children and you... I think you would be very proud of me Alex....I hope...<br />
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However there have been several people who have inquired as to how you are now... and how are you?<br />
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The life I lead now is blessed, filled with new friends (we have lived in Devon now for almost two years) new adventures in discovering the beauty and adventure of where we now live...<br />
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You always drove, everywhere! I was useless at that, discovering anywhere, calculating routes, finding new places...it was all down to you... I do all this now.. out of necessity and with you in the back of my mind driving me forward in our new existence.<br />
I came here, four kids in tow, with a view to integrating you into our lives... and yet, as it has turned out, you still are an hour's drive away... two of the kids get car sick on most journeys, I come in every day bar one, you come home every Tuesday ...<br />
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The morning school run, the shoe fairy that finds her life hilarious in hiding the kids' shoes most mornings... the dog who sprints out the door greeting our neighbours and the people she is not afraid of (as a rescue dog, she hates men, it takes many sausages to bribe her back to us...) the cats that have apparently never been fed in their lives, imploring us for food at every verse end... the book bags that sneak out on foot in the night and give themselves up to the rain in the middle of the night, so all internal important school books are ruined.... the mummy that springs out of bed after pressing 'snooze' 17 times.. because f*ck mummy's got up SOOO late...donning running gear (yes, I've begun that before going to see you) and cooking porridge, mopping up weetabix and urging children to get in school clothes, although these days, I try and negate certain morning battles by assuring them it's just ok to go to school in pyjamas... I' am literally beyond caring!<br />
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They really are all in such different places Alex, Esmie, the one who pushes me, tests me, questions me, tries to control everything out of fear I will leave too, as in her mind you did... sleeps, still, in my bed every night...the anger she instills in me, I try to quash, leave somewhere else, 'smile' through... because in reality I want to let her run to school by herself...I've not known a child of ours' like her...reading is her thing, we read together at night, she insists on reading the long words, because she wants to tell her daddy what she has done...She was just 3-years-old when you 'went'...<br />
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Mitzi, a gymnast, naturally, pushes herself physically, reminding me of you .. you always had her down as the next womens' champion surfer...! She needs love, reassurance, acceptance and reminding she is who she is, as she falters, needs my reassurance...she is blessed, wonderful, caring, beautiful and unique... my goodness how she misses her dadda though...<br />
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Lola, into baking, seizing life, yet scared of so many things. Not one for a competition or a conflict, I spend my time with her discussing how feelings are just part of being...it's ok to feel disappointment, loss, fear....baby, she focuses a lot on the negative, so I speak most evenings and mornings to her about remembering to smile, believing in the positive, thinking of things she is grateful for- a negative spiral can hit us all, we just need to 'be' with it, breathe .. and remember the beauty in our lives... as a daddy's girl she feels very lost without you...<br />
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Monty is excelling, he is responsible, nurturing, caring and unbelievably affectionate... it's almost like I worry he is 'too' ok... yet I have worries about them all....His SATs results were outstanding...he loves surfing, he is joining the sailng club in September and adores his football... he is growing up into a young man anyone would be proud of... He is off to Secondry school in September...He was a 7-year-old boy when you had your accident, he is nearly 12 now... the things you would be doing with him, the 'firsts' you and he would be reveling in... my heart splits in two for the both of you...<br />
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When I visit you,<br />
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You kiss me, you tell me you love me, you put a shaky arm around me, you light up...<br />
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This is all...<br />
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This is all you are,<br />
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All you have....<br />
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You are gone...<br />
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You have gone...<br />
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But I will fight continually for you to be a part of your family... <br />
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I love you still, I love you forever, I love you differently...very differently now my angel<br />
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You are lost, gone from this life...<br />
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Your speech is so difficult to understand and monotonous... <br />
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But that's OK,<br />
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I will be here for you...forever...<br />
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Walk beside you for an eternity... <br />
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<br />
me XXXXXXXxxxxXXXX<br />
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<br />Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-82863811486238364462014-05-13T20:53:00.002+02:002014-05-13T20:53:52.553+02:00Dear Alex, So Proud of Our Son...<br />
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Desperate to get in the water, he is his Father's son…<br />
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Our friend took him out.<br />
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It should have been you.<br />
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Me xxxxxxxxxTamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-17142739322819442322014-05-12T21:04:00.001+02:002014-05-12T21:04:06.551+02:00Dear Alex, Is This the End?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear Alex,<br />
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I am not sure where this blog is going anymore.<br />
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I am not finding it gives me what it always has done.<br />
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A cathartic way of expending energies I cannot articulate to you.<br />
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An evening space.<br />
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Tears shed as I share with you in the only way I can.<br />
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I feel it is coming to the end.<br />
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I have so many other areas I need to be focussing my energies.<br />
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Other areas I want to focus on, Making Waves for You as a Charity, the kids are rapidly growing and do so many clubs these days, commitments and less time than ever.<br />
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I visit you everyday, bar one or two. That will never change.<br />
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I miss you as much as I always have and always will.<br />
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But maybe I don't need 'this' space anymore to talk to you.<br />
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I feel I have nothing to say.<br />
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And that, then, makes me think that maybe that in itself is telling me something?<br />
<br />
I just need to <i>be</i>, <i>do</i>, <i>live</i>, <i>accept</i> for a while?<br />
<br />
That I cannot place my thoughts here, they belong with me and me only?<br />
<br />
Maybe this is the end?<br />
<br />
I am not 'feeling' my blog anymore.<br />
<br />
<br />
I will have to see.<br />
<br />
<br />
I will have to think.<br />
<br />
I have been feeling this way for some time now.<br />
<br />
<br />
I will maybe move on from this, move away from it, focus on other things?<br />
<br />
<br />
I will continue to write to you privately.<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe I just a break from it.<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe.<br />
<br />
<br />
See you in the morning angel,<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-42368199396488785132014-05-11T21:01:00.001+02:002014-05-11T21:01:30.266+02:00Dear Alex, Everything Changes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XZPnG35FENA/U2_Hnv-T1fI/AAAAAAAAEC4/a4jRrbuxj8I/s1600/images-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XZPnG35FENA/U2_Hnv-T1fI/AAAAAAAAEC4/a4jRrbuxj8I/s1600/images-5.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
<br />
Living two lives is how I live at the moment. With you not even having day trips home (although I hope this is soon to change) I have my life up with you, visiting you, privately wanting you and missing you, and a life where I put a big smile on my face, socialise, a life completely separate to you.<br />
<br />
It has become more and more this way, it has become my coping mechanism.<br />
<br />
It allows me to deal with a life outside you. A life where I am a single mum of four. A life where I have friends over, I plan activities with other families. I do it without you.<br />
<br />
I feel you are on a more even keel, it has the effect of making me so too.<br />
<br />
When I come to see you, you just cling onto me, kissing me, telling me how much you love me, I cherish this Alex.<br />
<br />
Although I know I have a very different you now.<br />
<br />
It is strange how everything is different. <i>So</i> different. In a way I could never have been prepared for, a way I never thought I would be capable of dealing with.<br />
<br />
I almost feel completely detached from any sense of pain at the moment. Then it changes in an instant and I am back to square one, then I have to find soothing I am grateful, to offer up thanks and praise for, and I watch our babies, listen to their chatter, witness their smiles and little ways, and I bring myself back to coping again.<br />
<br />
<br />
The brain damage has meant that you have no motivation to change anything, be any different. It is all done 'to' you. You participate, progress, but you have had your main personality trait eradicated by the haemorrhage … your determination and motivation.<br />
<br />
<br />
I am trying to understand this at the moment and come to terms with an Alex that I didn't know when we got together.<br />
<br />
An Alex that is the new Alex, yet not the man I once met.<br />
<br />
<br />
I will see you in the morning, and keep trying to be your motivation for you…<br />
<br />
<br />
I love you honey,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
me xxxxxxxxxxxxxx<br />
<br />Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-69184976785851953122014-05-08T22:12:00.000+02:002014-05-08T22:12:00.473+02:00Dear Alex, Making You Proud of Me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4BRf0QqqFo/U2vkFapqL2I/AAAAAAAAECk/bNM9vo3-hDA/s1600/100_7280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4BRf0QqqFo/U2vkFapqL2I/AAAAAAAAECk/bNM9vo3-hDA/s1600/100_7280.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love the fact Alex captured his feet in this shot…tanned and strong.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
<br />
Memories are everywhere of a life once lived. Dreams once shared, a life's adventure course together, hands held, souls entwined, like our legs in bed at night…<br />
<br />
In a clear out, I came across a dress, one I used to wear in the Summer in France that you loved, I smelt it, I hadn't unpacked this plastic box full of Summer wear for a number of reasons. Mitzi is with me and I ask her what it smells of, her big blue eyes light up, she buries her head in it, she says 'of France and of Daddy!' I hadn't mentioned to her the fact it was in a forgotten about box from France, it's origins, it could have been new… But she smelled her daddy on it, Papa, as you once were to her. Smells are so evocative.<br />
<br />
Photos I scroll through with a glimpse of you in the background, catching a scene in front, but hold you in your organic form- a gesture as you explain something, not the posed moments, but the tiny detail of you.<br />
<br />
Your memory seems a little stronger, from time-to-time. On the phone tonight, you ask if I am coming back in, you recall, evidently I was in earlier.<br />
<br />
A day or so ago, Monty began surf lessons. I had not realised how it would impact me, how it would delve into my being, searching for you… He comes out of the water, as I arrive to pick him up. He struggles with a board under his arm and see his father's son. I see him carrying on a dream you had for all the kids. You were determined to teach them all to surf- you used to refer to it as you church, prayer and meditation.<br />
<br />
Monty cannot wait to get back out there again. He has caught the surfing bug! You would have had your surfing buddy! Your son, then daughters, following you out into the surf…<br />
<br />
All the things you should have had,<br />
<br />
Would have had…<br />
<br />
My being aches, my eyes can't see for the tears I shed in this moment, our boy coming out of the sea.<br />
<br />
So I am going to learn to surf Alex. To join our kids, to show them how to combat fears (I am scared of the sea) to make you proud. To be with them in your absence.<br />
<br />
<br />
And with a heart breaking even more for what you could have had, I will try and learn…and make you proud of me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxTamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-12256639135544458532014-05-06T22:21:00.002+02:002014-05-06T22:21:52.785+02:00Dear Alex, A Degree in the Right Direction.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F0RTuzC2iwU/U2lDI71L-UI/AAAAAAAAECM/OcORYgBmPvs/s1600/IMG_4534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F0RTuzC2iwU/U2lDI71L-UI/AAAAAAAAECM/OcORYgBmPvs/s1600/IMG_4534.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
Brisk dog walk before I set off to see you, Robin's call takes me by surprise. Mid conversation, ascending the hill, it tweets loudly right at us, right next to us; as though it were calling us.<br />
<br />
We are chatting, my friend and I, putting the world to rights as we do every morning with the fields turning deeper green, stretching out to the burrows that lead to the sea boundless, dogs run and pant, beauty in nature abundant. I wonder what, if anything, was the significance of this tweeting Robin.<br />
<br />
I always make a quick coffee to take in the car with me on my journey, which takes nearly an hour.<br />
<br />
Reaching you by around 10.30.<br />
<br />
<br />
I haven't been writing to you much, and this has, in itself made me feel uneasy, wondering why.<br />
<br />
I sift through every thought like grains of sand, analysing it all.<br />
<br />
And I think I have worked it out.<br />
<br />
I am much happier at the moment.<br />
<br />
I crashed, completely and wholeheartedly around our wedding Anniversary, feeling like I was mourning our marriage, you, rather than being able to celebrate it as we had always planned to. And I realised I needed something in my life too.<br />
<br />
Not just doing all I must and want to for the kids, all I need and want to for you, but I need something else that defines me too. I felt this deeply, like an awakening. I have not been able to focus on this before, because I have felt it selfish and unthinkable. However with creating the Making Waves for You charity, I know I am doing something positive, it doesn't feel selfish, it feels like it is what I am meant to be doing.<br />
<br />
I haven't been able to articulate in a letter to you why I was unable to write to you as frequently as I used.<br />
<br />
But I need to move aside slightly, take the pressure off waiting for you to spring back, just like it was before. Because that is not what will happen. Strangely, or not so, it is helping me cope better.<br />
<br />
I know you will continue to make progress, I see it still. But I have lifted the lid on the pressure a fraction, and I can release it slowly, rather than trying to stifle it and pretend it is not there.<br />
<br />
It is making <i>this</i> doable, ever so slightly more.<br />
<br />
<br />
Baby, you know I will always wait for you, always want you to progress as much as possible, this isn't what this is about. It is changing, and allowing myself to as well, my mind set a fraction, a degree in the right direction.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxTamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-36549230764998171182014-05-04T21:21:00.002+02:002014-05-04T21:21:57.644+02:00Dear Alex, The Hugo Southwell Testimonial in London, Little Me, Far Away from Home.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-34z7zUrak9c/U2aS5Km5csI/AAAAAAAAEB8/8wK3XtbOCgY/s1600/IMG_4445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-34z7zUrak9c/U2aS5Km5csI/AAAAAAAAEB8/8wK3XtbOCgY/s1600/IMG_4445.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to go at my BFF's House!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
<br />
Dusk begins to descend, I have put all but Monty in bed, who plays upstairs with his Lego. Creating, role playing, imagining. I sneak up to listen and watch him when he thinks he is alone. I lose myself in his world. In awe at the imagination, the world he has created and the ease of his playing.<br />
<br />
It has been a busy week.<br />
<br />
The Testimonial of Hugo Southwell, retiring from professional rugby as Captain of the Wasps, was a phenomenal night. I wasn't expecting his speech, expressing why he had chosen Alex to be the beneficiary of fundraising that night, to have me in tears before I even got up on stage to speak. But I was blown away by his words, generosity and kindness. I managed it! I spoke in front on everyone, and played a short video of you now, which a friend has been putting together.<br />
<br />
Several things came out of the night;<br />
<br />
I was able to talk about Making Waves for You, and moving forward, and there were many people there keen to get involved, keen to help out in any way they could. It made me feel more positive about the reason I was there.<br />
<br />
I also broke through another comfort zone, stepped out and spoke in front of so many people for you, Alex.<br />
<br />
In a few weeks time, I have the first meeting about setting up Making Waves for You as a charity.<br />
<br />
I also made a lot of Rugby players cry!<br />
<br />
It was truly a wonderful night, always bitter sweet, as life seems to be now-a-days.<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm proud of you Alex, so proud of you for how far you have come, and how much more you will achieve.<br />
<br />
<br />
I will soon be releasing the new video of you for all to see.<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-51177512867576741072014-04-30T14:27:00.001+02:002014-04-30T14:27:29.966+02:00Dear Alex, Living In-between.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xIU73MDPNMQ/U2DrpjCi1iI/AAAAAAAAEBs/AuWarIPsfIc/s1600/IMG_4421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xIU73MDPNMQ/U2DrpjCi1iI/AAAAAAAAEBs/AuWarIPsfIc/s1600/IMG_4421.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
I flick through the radio stations, French, not picking up due to the clouds covering the vast sky ahead, Classic, makes me feel too pensive, Radio 4, a topic I can't bear to listen about, nothing is fulfilling the need to drown out my mind noise on the way to see you.<br />
<br />
Living in-between.<br />
<br />
That's what this is.<br />
<br />
The days I am good, I feel life is 'doable'; life is beautiful in a very different way. Then the days I plummet, When I can't bear to face it without you, soul crawling round beneath a weight of darkness shrouding it, grieving for my man.<br />
<br />
I am learning to live this way now.<br />
<br />
I won't see you for a few days, I am going to London.<br />
<br />
I am honoured and so grateful to Hugo Southwell, retiring captain of the Wasps, as he is doing his Testimonial and Dinner in benefit of you. How generous, how wonderful, how much it will mean. But I will have to speak a bit, in front of 400 guests.<br />
<br />
I am stepping out of my comfort zone, I am no longer any good in social events, even a neighbour's Barbecue with less than 10 people sent me off to the bathroom to breathe through a major panic attack.<br />
<br />
I am no good without you by my side, and yet I keep having to face things without you, do things on my own, for you.<br />
<br />
I would swop it all honey, all of it in a breath to have you back, to be sat on the sofa, cup of tea in hand in my pyjamas next to the old you…<br />
<br />
Only I cannot be.<br />
<br />
I won't ever be.<br />
<br />
So it is moving forward with what we have, with who we are now.<br />
<br />
Turning changed eyes to God, eyes filled with sadness, longing for hope and help.<br />
<br />
And living in between.<br />
<br />
The good days and the bad.<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-71367005547374688922014-04-27T21:07:00.000+02:002014-04-27T21:07:03.804+02:00Dear Alex, Living Now.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5B25MSi0qBQ/U11VOvl-tnI/AAAAAAAAEBc/qYlaiScjUUE/s1600/alexsurfboard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5B25MSi0qBQ/U11VOvl-tnI/AAAAAAAAEBc/qYlaiScjUUE/s1600/alexsurfboard.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Lawn mower passes over someone's lawn in the distance, warm sun sets after a rainy day. It sets on another of our evening phone calls. It sets on a life we once lived.<br />
<br />
I haven't been able to write much.<br />
<br />
I don't know who I write to anymore.<br />
<br />
I once wrote to who I thought would be coming back.<br />
<br />
I once wrote through pain and heartache and an experience I thought you would sit down, read with me one day…catch up with my version of events.<br />
<br />
I write to a stranger.<br />
<br />
Someone I have lost in this life.<br />
<br />
This is why I barely write at the moment Alex,<br />
<br />
Because I write to a fantasy.<br />
<br />
I write to a husband I once had, the man I once knew.<br />
<br />
And the pain is too great.<br />
<br />
I can't record it, I cannot express it, I do my best, my utmost to avoid it.<br />
<br />
Only the evening strikes, the sun goes down and the loneliness of the night ensues. An empty bed, bedtime for 4 children conducted by their mummy again.<br />
<br />
It is almost that we are all realising something. Lola stayed at her friend's last night. The lovely daddy there makes her come back and want to talk to me. She opens up about all her memories of you in the hospital, before you were whisked away from us. Before her 6-year-old heart was shattered and one of babies lost their daddy. She talks to me, through sobs of the day I told them of your operation, how well she remembers it. I hold our girl, I hold her tight to me, I kiss her blond head and don't let her go, don't let her see the agony in her mummy's eyes.<br />
<br />
<br />
You left us all Alex.<br />
<br />
You didn't choose to, I know.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I know you are not coming back.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx<br />
<br />Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-55704030394733137072014-04-24T15:43:00.001+02:002014-04-24T15:43:44.128+02:00Dear Alex, The New 'Us'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2GwnC8jkU20/U1kU_u4roDI/AAAAAAAAEBM/v52WnfdeOjo/s1600/AW_rehab02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2GwnC8jkU20/U1kU_u4roDI/AAAAAAAAEBM/v52WnfdeOjo/s1600/AW_rehab02.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
<br />
Often I realise, I will never get through this, never not need you as you once were.<br />
<br />
Never not have to just live with that pain.<br />
<br />
I have recently been avoiding photos of you, videos, everything to do with how you once were. It ties in with our Anniversary which has just come and gone like our marriage never existed, like 'we' never did.<br />
<br />
It is coming to terms with how different it all has become now.<br />
<br />
It is living as a wife with no husband (I do not say this lightly or cruelly).<br />
<br />
The overwhelming realisation that this is me, you, this is the new 'us'.<br />
<br />
<br />
It needs to settle in me for a while.<br />
<br />
I try and avoid it a great deal, all too much to digest. too much to take on board. The one thing I have known I could never confront without falling, and my baby, I feel like I will.<br />
<br />
<br />
Remembering days when I thought I would have most of you back at least.<br />
<br />
Ten years married has forced me into a corner, forced me somewhere I never wanted to be.<br />
<br />
And it is lonely, it is just me.<br />
<br />
Me watching everyone else, families and dads and men and couples.<br />
<br />
<br />
It's just me now Alex.<br />
<br />
<br />
And I feel like I have finally realised you are not coming back.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-76245641620149390292014-04-20T21:16:00.003+02:002014-04-20T21:16:31.489+02:00Dear Alex, 'I Love You'<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l4rs283nm70/U1Qc5gims2I/AAAAAAAAEA8/t3YsTp1ABBE/s1600/IMG_4235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l4rs283nm70/U1Qc5gims2I/AAAAAAAAEA8/t3YsTp1ABBE/s1600/IMG_4235.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
<br />
Sun begins to set on another day, Holidays nearly over, another event passed without you.<br />
<br />
They seem relentless these events.<br />
<br />
I stand in the kitchen making a roast Gammon with the trimmings for the kids, and some veggie dish for me. The kids watch a film, the rain has recommenced. Stuffing chocolate down like there is a chocolate thief on the loose that will take it if they don't consume it this fast!<br />
<br />
I start to set the table, call the kids, carve the meat. There is always a spare seat at the table where you once sat. There are always reminders you are no longer here with us.<br />
<br />
I am still not handling this all that well. I toppled over this week with our Wedding Anniversary, and have been staggering about ever since.<br />
<br />
The kids were excited to see you today, I had done them an Easter egg hunt there, which kept them amused for a time. You cover them with kisses and hold them tight when we arrive. At one point pretending to eat them because you wanted their chocolate, making them and me laugh.<br />
<br />
You are good at interacting for a short while, as long as it does not drag on, as you quickly become over tired and agitated and it goes very quickly down hill. This is why I keep the visits short, no longer than 1 and a 1/2 hours really, this seems to be optimum time. When I prompt you, your speech is clearer, although it seems to be that for the past few months your speech has not been at all clear. There are things, however you do say very clearly 'I love you'<br />
<br />
And I suppose that is the most important phrase.<br />
<br />
<br />
And I love you too, Alex.<br />
<br />
<br />
Forever.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxTamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-56571600036824428872014-04-17T21:17:00.001+02:002014-04-17T21:17:36.543+02:00Dear Alex, I Promise.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iJ7tWYIjjSM/U1AovNz-rGI/AAAAAAAAEAs/4V13f1nc4yQ/s1600/IMG_4226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iJ7tWYIjjSM/U1AovNz-rGI/AAAAAAAAEAs/4V13f1nc4yQ/s1600/IMG_4226.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
<br />
Talking to you here, writing to you, is my only means of communicating with you in a deeper sense than trying to understand what you are saying to me, or chatting about the kids to you, telling you things. I can't confide in you, nor gain your advice, that side of my Alex, of you, has gone.<br />
<br />
It honestly is the side I miss the most, that side of a relationship, being able to chat in depth about things, the kids and their lives, elements of life that I could do with your advice on…I was very dependent on you before for this, only turning to you for counsel.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, was the hardest of days I have seen in a very long while.<br />
<br />
Our ten year Wedding Anniversary. There is something so significant about a decade.<br />
<br />
I wondered to myself on the way to see you what you may have done for me were you as you once had been. I think you would have whisked me away somewhere for a night or two. Spoiled me rotten!<br />
<br />
You would have written me a letter, you wrote to me often.<br />
<br />
Instead I write to you, only I write to the you that I once had.<br />
<br />
To the you I married.<br />
<br />
The you who is gone.<br />
<br />
I cherished the afternoon we spent together. You were in a beautiful mood and would not let go of me, kissing me and telling me you love me. I describe our Wedding to you, what you wore, who was there, and how I promised you today the same as I promised you the day we married.<br />
<br />
We shed a few tears together, although you don't know that you were ever any different, and certainly have no recollection of our Wedding.<br />
<br />
<br />
Through it all Alex, I will love you, I will be there, I will comfort you and take care of you.<br />
<br />
I promise.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxxTamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-74614867089409556562014-04-16T12:40:00.000+02:002014-04-16T12:40:07.634+02:00Dear Alex, A Decade Married x<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
Before the doors swing open, I feel OK. I remember thinking, I cannot wait! Soon, SO soon I will be who I want to be, Mrs Wood!<br />
<br />
<i>Yours</i>...<br />
<br />
Then the doors swing,<br />
<br />
I see you, as you turn from the front of the Registry Office, to look at me, where we had decided we just wanted to be married, rather than not. So a Registry Office in Whitby was what was set. You melted my soul, my very being, I start to cry.<br />
<br />
Monty, bless his tiny old soul, was 5 and a bit months old. We had met 2 years before, you had proposed to me 4 days after we had met, I agreed immediately.<br />
<br />
Knowing instantly you were The One…<br />
<br />
<br />
In all honesty, baby, I have spent the past 3 days in helpless tears, Knowing where I was at before we married, remembering it vividly, to the days where we are now, before our 10 year Anniversary. I didn't realise this would be the hardest thing I have had to face so far.<br />
<br />
And I never thought this.<br />
<br />
Well, you don't, do you?<br />
<br />
<br />
I remember a girl, 25 years in age.<br />
<br />
A girl, a young mummy, devoted to her man, in awe of her man, unable to see clearly because of the fact she had fallen so hard, so completely in love.<br />
<br />
This morning, our decade of marriage anniversary, I wake alone.<br />
<br />
I ring you at the Care Home, and there is nothing more cruel.<br />
<br />
"In sickness and in health"<br />
<br />
At the time, I thought nothing of it at the time, but this was the vow where I broke down for a second, before being able to continue.<br />
<br />
And Alex, my promise to you today is still, that in sickness and in health, I will remain steadfast by your side.<br />
<br />
<br />
I wanted to grow old with you, visions of playing with grandkids together, walks hand-in-hand. I wanted so much for us.<br />
<br />
Now, I just want you to grow more healthy, make progress; because I cannot face this life without you.<br />
<br />
<br />
I love you Alex, more than you could ever imagine.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Your wife xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx<br />
<br />
<br />Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-2938970723843577482014-04-14T21:38:00.002+02:002014-04-14T21:38:28.928+02:00Dear Alex, A Glass of Ice Cold Rose.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
A day in the sunshine, an evening where I sit outside, dog at my feet, cat prowls along the garden wall, Monty sleeps snoring in my bed, the girls fast asleep upstairs.<br />
<br />
Nothing but my music and bird song, slight chill on sun warmed skin, and a glass of ice cold rose, I need it tonight.<br />
<br />
I have watched the kids in such awe today, they had not a cross word all morning, brought me a cup of tea in bed. Helped clear up breakfast things. We hung out in the garden all morning, Monty and Lola making eggy bread and cucumber sticks for everyone for lunch! They were so wonderful, it was such a relaxing morning, I even got to lie in the sun for a while!<br />
<br />
I have felt ridiculously blessed today.<br />
<br />
Loving where we live, the freedom it offers us, nipping to the beach for half-an-hour on the way home from seeing you. We run of a bit of pent up 'hour in the car' claustrophobia and head home for Quorn Bolognese I made earlier.<br />
<br />
<br />
You seemed sad again today, you just couldn't hold tears back; you have seemed this way the past few days. Like you are 'coming round' again. Asking me why you cannot remember anything. I keep reminding you of our Wedding Anniversary on Wednesday, as it is a big deal, a decade.<br />
<br />
We have been married a decade my angel, and I love you more now than ever before-though I never knew that would even be possible.<br />
<br />
I am going to make us dinner and see if, with the help of some of the carers, we can lie outside on a picnic rug together, rather than it being me sitting on your lap in your wheel chair.<br />
<br />
Allow us some freedom, just to lie for a while together.<br />
<br />
<br />
Where I can hold you, let you know what you still mean to me, and always will.<br />
<br />
Because I love you more than you could ever imagine Alex Wood.<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxx<br />
<br />Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-42458188430808499992014-04-13T21:13:00.002+02:002014-04-13T21:13:58.970+02:00Dear Alex, It has Been a While.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Familiar drive to and fro from the Care Home. A pain reopened, a realisation that this is it. This is life.<br />
<br />
That this is how we live.<br />
<br />
Holidays are particularly hard, negotiating kids and activities and visits to you. The days consist of me taking the kids somewhere for the day, beach, walks, picnics, parks, bike rides…Outdoor activities, so I know we have spent time together and they have exhausted some energy. Come 2/ 3 o'clock we hit the road and a few of them sleep in the car on the winding journey to you. It's roughly an hour, and we spend the rest of the afternoon with you, till you eat, then we leave, home and cooking tea and washing and bed time stories and bed.<br />
<br />
Only not for me, as I cannot sleep at the moment.<br />
<br />
I wake so much, laying there for an hour or so at a time.<br />
<br />
Thinking of you.<br />
<br />
Wishing we could be a family, aching.<br />
<br />
Aching for the kids, that it's just their mum who does their life with them now.<br />
<br />
Your mood seems fairly stable, you cry when I leave, but these are tears of knowing you don't want me to be leaving, that something is up, but unsure what is wrong or different.<br />
<br />
I cuddle you tight, protect you, kiss you and tell you 'This is not forever'…<br />
<br />
Blink away tears that sting and silencing a voice that soars from my soul wanting to scream for you back…<br />
<br />
Scream to God how unfair all this is.<br />
<br />
Scream to God that enough is enough.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I bite my tongue, muzzle my soul, blink back tears, remain strong, tell you how much I love you …<br />
<br />
Then leave.<br />
<br />
<br />
How unfair it is.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxx<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4731307748247015186.post-83005317632337280622014-04-08T21:07:00.000+02:002014-04-08T21:08:49.505+02:00Dear Alex, How You Used to be in my World.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AUOPVmvHcW0/U0RIaieY30I/AAAAAAAAD_s/qc5LsjO_DX0/s1600/IMG_4045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AUOPVmvHcW0/U0RIaieY30I/AAAAAAAAD_s/qc5LsjO_DX0/s1600/IMG_4045.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easter Egg hunt in the woods x</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Alex,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I pull the whites off the washing line, tiny white school shirts, four different sizes, multitudes of each. Shadows pass over, I glance up, half-a-dozen crows fly by. Palm tree waves in the wind, I hear the sea.<br />
<br />
The holidays are always full, negotiating extra hurdles as kids are full-time at home, so cooking and washing and cleaning take over in mammoth proportions. I cannot do much else, so all projects or plans are on hold till they go back to school. I am also still feeing pretty poorly with Laryngitis, so am fighting this too. I take the kids swimming in the afternoon, something I am now able to do that Lola is over 8 and knows how to swim. A new family trip I can take them on alone.<br />
<br />
Then straight after we come in to see you.<br />
<br />
My heart tears, splits in two. A fresh opening of an old wound.<br />
<br />
And I realise that the time you spent in Exeter, I had no choice, so had to go with seeing you not very often, I knew you were in a wonderful place, and had an amazing shot at rehab and regaining skills.<br />
<br />
Now, seeing you almost everyday again, I am back with you, in this life, no detachment, just plunged back into how much I miss you, want you.<br />
<br />
Like I have parcelled up this wound, bound it in string, only there is no string strong enough to hold the wound together, inevitable that it will split open again, spilling a thousand shattered pieces of a heart to the floor.<br />
<br />
Nothing will ever make it better, because no matter what happens in life, I still do not have you.<br />
<br />
And I won't.<br />
<br />
And my heart will bleed forever more for this.<br />
<br />
You cling to me today, just crying, telling me you love me, you want to be with me, 'stay with me, please' you repeat.<br />
<br />
And I cannot put a brave face on it, or cry silent tears.<br />
<br />
Because I have to leave you there, this is how it is at the moment, and I hate that.<br />
<br />
They cascade on the car and I say I am sorry to the kids, that being with daddy today made me sad, and I needed to cry to help myself feel a bit better… I could barely explain, could hardly get my words out…<br />
<br />
<br />
Sorry kids, sorry Alex, I am not being very strong at the moment, but I just miss you, how you used to be in my world.<br />
<br />
<br />
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTamsyn woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09490967136488880500noreply@blogger.com0