Man, woman and child  in a suit that doesn’t fit

Man, woman and child  in a suit that doesn’t fit

Menu

Expectations so unsuitable for the soul. Pressures, image, bullying, game playing, greed, lies. Creating positivity from it all.

A NEW SITE IN THE MAKING

THIS SITE IS IN THE MAKING.  VERY NEW AND YOUNG. JULY 2021 I STARTED……ITS EXCITING FOR ME AND I HOPE IT IS FOR YOU TOO 


‘’About everything but nothing in particular. 


Each and every day, not realising my own therapy was and still is

”write it down and burn it”

Never actually burning it, I figured, rather than my children and grandchildren finding a dusty dirty book when I’m gone or stick it notes, they will see my site.


My journey alone…… 

All but a puppet on a string
All but a puppet on a string

PRESSURE

Feeling squashed in. The sounds of life are loud. The silence deafening 

‘The daily reminders from our own moulded mind.  pushing, pulling and searching for something we cannot find. Not knowing what it is we’re looking for. 

Forgetting what and why we are standing in this moment with our suits of expectation.

‘The rawness under our covered up clothing. Reality all hidden from ourselves by ourselves.

AFTER ALL  ITS THE RIGHT THING TO DO.

REWRITING THE BOOK OF LIFE AND THE MODERN DAY ETIQUETTE AND MANNERS .

The only child and repeating history.

‘A mother at 17 years old with my Aunty holding my hand through life is a memory I hold like yesterday. 

To put it into a visual……..  one minute I’m talking to my Aunty about being a young mum with many options available to being 51 and seeing 2021 off and entering 2022 with only one hand to hold 

My Own.

The purpose of my life being questioned for the second time.

I remember sitting and thinking, “I can’t imagine being an adult, wife, mum and then Grandmother.

‘Now I’m sitting here as filling those shoes and thinking,  I fell asleep whilst walking those shoes of the above.

‘A blur or auto pilot to be the best I could be but forgetting myself.

‘Moving through life for thirty four years as a titled person. Still stuck with trying to prove to the world “I’m not a spoilt brat” Being an only child was burned into my brain as that. So fixed on removing this suit that all had placed on me. Many need not say too much in the end, I could see the look on their face when discovering that I was an only child to these people that had it all. The family in the neighbourhood that weren’t financially struggling or appear to be struggling. The house constantly having extensions, renovations a beautiful spectacular garden. The big unusual house in a street full of housing commission  houses. We were labelled as the rich ones and the spoilt only child. 

I’ve spent my years removing this suit that was placed and draped over me.

‘Somehow my clothes were not mine. When they were mine, they were different to all those around me. I wore my style and not what was trendy. Labelled again as the rich spoilt brat at school. Never bullied nor taunted, I was just always in the background watching and slightly joining in. Fearing the things they did as my dear father forever warned and showed me what lifestyle choices could create.

Witnessing so much more in life than my peers, dad was seen as the coolest man around. Boys wanted to get to know me for my dad. Not me. I was so ok with it as my friends were boys. Not girls. This was the beginning of my life and I had no idea.