High-fiving the frond

National tree day – how did I almost miss this? I need to post something.

I may have nearly missed the significance of this day to stripes and trees, but I certainly didn’t miss seeing trees today. They were there at daybreak out of my son’s bedroom window, they were there in my park, they were there all along the bank of the Cooks River, the ghost gums were there on my in-laws street, and the massive tree shedding leaves in the gentle wind even got audience involvement (btw, do you know how hard it is to catch a falling leaf?) I stopped for a micro-moment and appreciated each of these.

Trees connect us. They give us the air to breathe, and in return we give them their air. They blossom in the most magnificent and vibrant colours, taking turns throughout the year – camellias, magnolias, jacarandas, frangipanis. They do their job and they smile flowers or leaves.

I wish I was a tree.

Recently I’ve been feeling that I’m not doing my job, nor smiling. My work job, my mum job, my sister job, daughter job, wife job, friend job… I do what I can but I know I need to more. And it bothers me. And as life continues to serve mini challenges, mini yet constant often draining episodes, I’ve been wondering more than usual…what is it all about?

Thinking about LBK (life before kids), thinking about life with one cherished cutie, and then with two…thinking about what it will be like AK (after kids). The kid factor usually gets the most attention because their impact is so obvious (poo, mess, noise…and of course giggles and their little warm bodies and minds of wonder), but perhaps the attention should go to me. I’ve been saying repeatedly at work recently ‘it’s not about me’, as a coping mechanism to bad vibes, even writing INAM at the top of notebooks that I take to meetings. But I think in my personal life, it surely must be about me. My career choices, my relationship and friendship imbalances, it’s my choices, it’s me…heck, it’s me. I’ve got work to do. I need to stop buying the parenting books and turn to self help instead.

Before my jog along the tree lined Cooks River today, I said to my kids as they protested me leaving them, “I have to go, otherwise I’ll get more angry”… it wasn’t the best expression of how I was feeling, instead I should’ve said “it helps me feel calm”, but I know that I am often quite frank when put on the spot (that’s my introverted personality, I need time to process)…but at least I’m honest I guess. And these days it is 100% true, exercise is mainly for my head. The physical benefits are secondary. The slim, toned, smooth body dream has long gone been surpassed by strength, inner, core, ‘down to the bones’ strength. Wisdom. Ageing. All good.

The days of not exercising because I had washed my hair that morning have long gone too. I still find washing and drying my unpredictable mane a chore, but I will do it twofold/threefold if it means I can go for a jog. I would wash my hair for a whole day non-stop if I could jog everyday for a month.

Back to the point though…what is it all about? Last week I think I started to figure it. We’ve started a family tradition of watching an animal show every Sunday night (a Sir David Attenborough fest – hallelujah!). As we watch the heart wrenching moments when baby birds fall to their death after months of being closely reared, or penguin chicks lying frozen on the ice, I remembered that we are animals too, and the point might be to simply survive and procreate. But some people chose not to have children, or they find that they can’t, or they did and have since lost, so it can’t all be about that.

As I undertook my jog, I randomly saw a school mum and her rabble of four on bikes, I saw a good friend and her daughter drive past in their car, I jogged up Hill St (and felt the pang of my family in the uk, the Hills). Then, as I ran across a road a van went in front of me. It really should’ve let me go, and just as I started to feel the mini frustration of pedestrian/jogger dues, I saw the logo on the side…it was a community van, and I instantly felt better. ‘Why get cross about that?’ I thought. And I didn’t. And then, literally just at the moment when I thought ‘I know, it’s all about community and connection’, a beautiful green palm frond appeared in my path, and I simply held out my hand and high-fived it! Seriously. It even went slap! Oh yes, the plants have got my back. They know this stuff. They see it. They are there. Connect. Celebrate!!! ✋

Actually all this talk of connection is quite ironic as we find our household plummeted in an ‘your internet connection is down’ situation. We will survive. Back to pen and paper (thanks trees).

I jogged today, I connected today (to trees and to people), and I washed my hair on a non-wash day.

Thank you trees for always inspiring me.

Love Stripes & Trees xxx

I see you. For now.

I mainly see my dad in photos because I live on the opposite side of the world to him. I also mainly see him in photos because he lives in a care home. I see my dad doing things that we did as a family but he’s now doing them with other people (just today I saw him at the seaside with his care home gang – quite confronting in a way – it takes me back to the days he would take us kids and makes me question why I am not there with him right now, paying back his time and love). I see my dad and wonder what he is thinking and feeling. I see him and I zoom in. I try and get an insight into his brain. I see my dad carrying on, making the most of situations, as he always has. I see my dad teaching others, as he always has. I see my dad having a laugh. I see my dad.

With frontotemporal dementia (FTD), my dad is not so much losing his memory as much as he’s losing himself. His behaviour has changed, his risk assessment, his decision making skills, also personality such as his sensitivity, his awareness of social norms, plus his balance and dexterity. Pretty shit. His memory is mostly there at the moment, despite him sometimes being very muddled/confused and the odd episode where he is really not with it. But when people ask me ‘does he know who you are?’, it’s a resounding ‘yes’. His memory will fade as time goes on, but for now, he still knows where he is, how to make a sandcastle, how to joke with the care home staff and bury them in sand (just like he buried me on a pebble beach in Norfolk some 35yrs ago), and he knows what to write in a birthday card. And he can write still, albeit a bit scrawly, he still tries to do it. He has not given up. He amazes me.

Flowers in stripes inside my birthday card

‘Putting’ him in a home happened so fast. We all thought it was just a temporary break, a respite, but it soon became clear once he received professional aged care that he needed more than we could give him at home (well my mum and my sisters to be honest, I wasn’t there day to day, month to month, well hour by hour actually…he needed constant watching). The emotions were mixed. Relief, guilt, uncertainty, disbelief, confusion, regret, happiness, gratefulness. And it continues to cycle through a raft of different ones, new ones sometimes, or ones I’ve worked through and have to reassess and work through again. But seriously, I can do that if my dad has to live in a home. It’s the least I can do. It’s making me stronger. I’m learning. And over these last few days I’ve received a few signs that I must not give up. I cannot sweep this under the carpet, despite not always knowing how to deal with it.

This weekend I read a magazine about being a better parent, to help me to be more in the moment and the parent I wanted to be. La la la, sounds so self indulgent when I write it down…but mostly it’s about coping. Anyway…one thing that I particularly recall reading was that when you become a parent you are almost giving birth to yourself, to your life, because you learn so much about yourself. True true. And I think it’s a bit the same with death, our own or that of someone close. We learn about ourselves, about how to be. Life is a lesson after all.

And funnily enough, tonight whilst eating dinner, I was watching Australian Ninja Warrior and a fabulous contestant Fred Dorrington (well they all are fabulous really, but this one is special to me) talked about his dad being ill, having frontotemporal dementia. Boom, there it is. FTD. Again. Another family. The dad is still alive but not really himself, not aware. So sad. Fred said how his dad always kept on going, determined. Now I’m not going to be able to channel that and be a ninja warrior (although saying ‘ecki thump’ to Freddy Flintoff, a fellow Yorkshire born-and-bred person might be a giggle) however, it’s what I was just saying, we learn from others about how to be. Life is a lesson. Fred is learning from his dad. I will learn from mine. Best wishes Fred.

And the last thing that happened to cement me writing this was the birthday card I received from my dad today. His handwriting was different and apparently he moaned about using a biro (he most certainly prefers a fountain pen), but there he was, pen on paper. Trying. Keeping on keeping on.

So I see my dad. I’m lucky for that. He might be different from when I was a kid, but right now he is still slightly more him than not him (I know this will switch one day), and for now I see him. So I will continue building sandcastles and snowmen (which I think I did on the same day as he did the sandcastle – on opposite sides of the world) and I will write with nice pens and cherish my love for maps and try and be on time (if not early) – thanks for these traits dad. His determination to continue as he always was is incredible. I will stop worrying about what he might think and feel, and just make the most of him being.

Hopefully I will see him again soon, as he wished in my birthday card. But for now I see him in photos and I see him in me. (Gosh my teenage self would never have been happy for me to say that, oh isn’t ageing a funny thing?)

Love Stripes & Trees xxx

“It could be worse…”

You may hear this phrase from time to time, people sometimes throw it your way when you seek their advice, trying to help of course, but not really knowing what to say…or sometimes you might say it first in an attempt to change your victim mindset and avoid potential judgement. But even though it provides some comfort by providing perspective, it somehow feels wrong to feel better by comparison, benefiting from someone else’s misfortune. Also, what if it does get worse? And what can the person do if they are at the very bottom of this, what if they are at the worst? This phrase doesn’t really work for me.

Recently watching some highlights of European tennis tournaments, I realised that it jarred with me when match points are won on an opponent’s double fault or due to another error. Wouldn’t it feel better, be better, if it was won due to self? I’m clearly not in the position to understand the full intensity of a win at that level, the years of gruelling training, but still…

Perhaps it’s just the way we look at things. Turning a ‘not ideal’ / ‘not what I hoped’ into a positive, an opportunity, a reality. I mean we can’t change the past so why dwell on whether the outcome is perfect…what is perfect anyway? We can’t change what has happened, all we have is now. Hmmm, haven’t I said that before, in another post? To myself, to friends, to my children…? Oh goodness, I keep coming back to that. It must be true. And it’s not new news. It’s everywhere. It’s truth. We all know this. It’s good to have a refresher though. And today whilst jogging I listened to Osher Gunsber’s podcast where he was interviewing Damien Echols (Memphis Three), and Damien articulated living in the now so well. And jeez, he would know.

My photo captured the stunning subtleties of a sunset sky, effortlessly blending pinks and purples and blues. This moment will never be the same again. A new day provides the new axis/angles for the earth’s rotation, on the earth itself the weather may be different, I may be standing in a different place when I take the photo…so many variables. So all that picture is is a moment.

This is it. Yes, right now, this is it. All we truly have is right now. This moment. No, we don’t even have the moment from 10 minutes ago. That is a memory, it is part of who we are but it is not exisiting now. And memories fade or get distorted, tricking us into believing something is really amazing or that something happened when actually it didn’t. For years I thought my godmother’s mother was the singing coach to Julie Andrews aka Mary Poppins, my claim to fame – I told a lot of people…but, it’s not true!!! Not true in the slightest. I’d obviously misunderstood something, turned it into a story and the retelling of this placed Mary in my memory.

So if memories fail us, what about the future? Well, not even the future is reliable. That holiday we have booked and paid for may not even happen…who knows what is around the corner?

So all we truly have is now. And that is fine. It might not always seem exciting when we are washing dishes or commuting in a squishy train carriage next to people coughing or with body odour…but at least we have a now. And if we fully focus then we will see so much in the now. This is where mindfulness comes in to play I guess. Note to self, I must do more of that, although I think I’m doing ok at it without fully labelling myself as doing so.

So let’s just be. Here. Now. Let’s stop the comparison, stop the dwelling on the pst, stop the reliance on the future. Let’s be. Easier said than done, but we can try. Now.

Love Stripes & Trees xxx