Shock and stress

Without trying to sound like, and I claim the most stressful six months of the year award for me, I actually am having quite a serious dose of it.
I have been in the pursuit of another job for a long time now, but just before dad died, I told my boyfriend - I really mean it, I really am quiting; not knowing that ah, actually I really would need to quit.
Many many thanks to everyone who has fed and watered me - because you are not just healing up grief - you are also sustaining a tired, frustrated and wee bit scared lady who is working in such a tough environment she goes to see her boyfriend for lunch, cries all over her lunch, he makes her practice her tough face, and the cafe we meet in probably wonder what in the hey kind of relationship we are in. I would not say just now is top joyful.
On the day before dad died, both my deputy and other member of staff shouted at and criticized me for a whole heap of things during a 'we have lost our tempers and have forgotten we are being rude' moment.
I sustained a brave face the next day, not knowing that I was going to end up off for quite some time for the funeral, and then the consequent getting signed off with shock experience.
Both ladies have continued to be both occasionally supportive and majorly critical in a wearing me down manner, that have included a few finger in my face moments. Not aided by the fact they are both exhausted themselves and walk around like two hot pots of ticking bomb expressions.
So, hide the shock, look taller, keep firm, tell boss.
Ah, here's the rub. Everyone is in disagreement with me as I am not willing to split the staff so that one member of staff will be effectively left alone whilst playing with the pixies. This issue I have wrestled with for months - the Care Commission asked me to do it, and I said no. I've been told that what I think is a load of bull (said very angrily), I said no. Phone calls have gone on behind my back, and meetings arranged, and I said no.
I have been willing to quit over it. I did not know I would effectively get so undermined by it, that I literally have to use every resource possible (prayer, chocolate, ABBA, tidying, not tidying, begging people to tell me what I am doing well) to face each day. I have dealt with tough staff situations before - I know that there are options I could use if I wanted to fight - but right now - I just want out, and I am trying to leave with as little damage to myself as possible.
Now, when I discussed this further, I was asked to consider compromising my stance. Perhaps the staff could sign a waiver. I said - then I would rather not work here. This of course is far easier to say when a friend has kindly helped me get several interviews lined up. Even so - I lost a night of sleep after. I could not be the kind of manager who puts any staff in a situation where if they were accused I could not verify I did all I could to protect them. I do not have the energy to keep fighting the snidey comments and put downs, and I know I have shot myself well in the foot where people go - your leaving, we will miss you. I'd safely say - everyone will go - oh good, she was making a fuss for nothing anyway.
I was advised to stick up to the staff more - I am doing this. I don't know what all the issues are - I suspect there are many - and that I am not the sole source of irritation. If I get a job, I have to work a months notice - not fun. If not - I quit anyway.
In the midst of this I have felt God saying to me - yes you are in the middle of a hurricane - you are right in the eye of it, and I am with you, and I know this hurts. Songs about going from the old to the new, and about following Him, and the joy that comes with that have filled my head for months. At the end of this week prayers that my boyfriend and I prayed for his church, a church that is struggling to survive, seem to be being answered better than we hoped - and that helps. I think there is more goes on around us than we think. I waver between the security that storms are often signs you are actually doing what God wants, and telling Him, that is the last time I tell you I will praise you in all circumstances.

Thank you again in advance for the conversations and hugs that I know you would all give. I'll put them all in the bank account - because it's getting heavily withdrawn at the moment,

Shock

Just now, I have been signed off work for a week. I feel dreadful.

When I heard the news about dad, I felt as though I was being punched right in the middle, so hard, it was like having a car plough through my solar plexus. Now, I look ok on the outside, but on the inside I feel sick. My heart feels bumpy. My stomach feels tight. And I have this anxious ball of sludge that keeps overwhelming my system, over and over.

I can work, but just not right now. I feel unable to cope with the shaky feeling that comes just having a normal discussions, never mind the billion things I need to remember to keep the pixies ok.

Cards, texts, calls, sharing your news, sharing your losses - ok all of them are the correct medicine. I already knew life was finite - our family lost our mum eleven years ago. I already knew to regard relationships as precious, but this is the absolute reminder. We all loved dad and we will all miss him so much.

Many people live without their parents - and that is the full result of this loss - that our family has no Big Person to go to who will listen, fix things or be in charge when we can't. It's an exposed position. I feel raw - like a tooth nerve in the open. The change it makes to you is hard to define. You want to tell people to cling to their family and keep in contact - to salvage bonds where ever possible.

But, families are not like that - they are messy, and often, the very adults people look to for support - are not available for them. There is more than one way of losing your parents. Caring for a mum who had lost herself to Alzheimer's, or for a dad lost to drink is also a loss of what is admittedly often a perception, but a real loss.

Nobody wants to be fully in charge - the challenge in marriage is often part of this realisation that we all want someone close to call mummy or daddy, and sometimes we want that from those close to us. Then, like the kid in us likes to do - we then turn round and say that we have changed our mind - and we don't need a parent thank you, we are all grown upped thank you.

I have had a lot of conversations with people about living as a community in the church recently. The very bonds that we break to get away to find ourselves in a big city, are the very bonds we wonder what to do without. I know the thought for many people that the church is a community is ridiculous - because how can an organisation that has so many politics and strange traditions be a family. I have no answers - but it's interesting so many people crave the belonging. Family life can be crazy - and there are times to tie them firmly to your heart - and times when in order to love, or survive - you have to break away.

I am divorced - and I know how even if you try your darndest - not every relationship is rescuable. The bible talks about trying to live in peace to your best ability. It also talks about people crazy enough to sell their possessions to benefit each other. Somehow - one man's resurrection was to inspire people to reverse the concept of living for yourself - the church is a body. That means - all bits work together. Christians in many denominations are now wrestling with this - what does that mean - how do you do that?

My boyfriend and I have several decisions we are looking at right now - as both of us are heart committed to the idea of a community church, where Christ is central, and where the ability to be open to God's direction is real. Both of us have the same dreams with different skins on - and we hope we can build together whatever God asks us to do.

The Best Pep Talk Ever
Primary seven pixie to group of pixies doing fun run - 'Run like horses!.....no, no - run like the goat!'

How to heal up a broken heart

Last October, there was the sensation of reaching the bottom of the barrel on more than one occasion. That oh oh time, when you go - ok think I'm going to get hurt, and it's going to hurt so so bad.

December - dumped by text. Hurt more by another's cowardice than their intentions. There was a brief flurry of discussions after that - that mainly confirmed - this person no more knew their intentions than they could calculate the ability to make their actions match their words.

Just before New Year, my Dad threw his holiday surprise routine at me. Let's go to Spain, for New Year.

I could survive Christmas - Christmas I was with my family. But New Year - yes, leaving the country was needed.

Holidays with Dad were always a bit of a white knuckle ride - he would combine ingenious last minute deals with some times some quite obscure travelling arrangements.

I knew if we got to Spain on New Year's eve - well that would give enough time to keep breathing until I could sift my hurt through the filter of Spanish air. Dad and I spent much of our three days away talking about our natural affinity with Spain, with it's air, climate, and look of the land. Like we had returned to our ancestral home.

On New Year's eve - we went down to the beach. We walked around the really posh restaurant that we would discuss in awe - and recall how we weren't going to have dinner there because none of our holiday clothes were good enough. I knew back home there would be people and parties, and shouting and cheering. We didn't have that - we had the sea.

A thick black sea swept up back and forth over the sand. We walked up and down the beach, listening to the hush, hush of the sea at night. It was the best way to greet the next year. So, we spent the remainder of the holiday just doing that - watching the sea.

I told my dad how my homeopathic medicine had been chosen to reflect my love of the sea and the beach. He told me my mum had been the same - she had loved the beach, it made her feel better.

The first day we sat - it was hot. We sat and looked out at the waves, and enjoyed the sun. In between our sea watching bouts - we went to cafe's and drank coffee, and talked.

We didn't know this would be our last holiday - we didn't know these would be our last chats.
That my lasting memory would be of watching my dad sitting at a bench, with sun hat on, wearing t-shirt and shorts, looking over the shore.

Holidays had always meant lot's of plans. Dad always took his music, his mini stereo, an electric bike, and an intinery that meant we would go and see things. This time - he hadn't brought much beyond his clothes.

I remember how surprised I was that he was eager to go to cafe's and just banter away. The cafe we sat in on New Year's day was full of happy crazy music and drunk people dancing outside - a couple who owned the cafe were swaying with each other as they clasped hands and waists together.

The next day it was colder, and wet. We decided at the end of a rather nippy wave watching session, that we would go for dinner. The cafe we chose was deserted. I'd spent time in the morning chosing a good place to go - this cafe had displays of sea food that were mind boggling. The cafe was deserted - so we sat inside and ate sardines and meat and salad.

I talked to dad about the areas about pixie care, and running a pixie club that make me question the far bigger issues of how we look after our children - what is right, what is wrong. Dad looked at me, and said, wow, look at you, you could be on TV. A dad who told me everything I needed to know - when you aren't being heard, when you want to say something important - I believe in your ability to say it.

All the watching of the sea - had helped wash away the sadness of the year. A near promise of a future and a family had drowned, and I was filled with awful dreams of a house whose walls ran with wet inside that I could not stop.

I had cried - but the sea, her lovely waves entered a part of me that could not cry. A part that needed gentler care. Dad and I talked briefly about the loss of the relationship.

I knew somewhere deep inside that this was all I needed to get me ready - to be ready to pick myself up from the I have so been dumped corner and start running again.

Dad gave time. He probably talked to more people than we will ever know. He loved his family. None of us knew that his time was short. That he would die suddenly.

He wanted all of his children to know he was proud of them. That when he did die, that they would pull together. He spoke often of how happy he was that we got on well as adults, that he could come to us all for advice.

You get to meet people sometimes who are giants - who live big. Dad lived big. Today, right now - think of those people and send them a hug. Send two.