Strength

So, this week I finally had my surgery to my shoulder after my accident at the beginning of the year  on January 23rd. 

It has been a tough year for me. A very mixed year. I’ve been in a lot of pain and I’ve been very unhappy at not being able to dance at all.  

I’ve been loving working in year 1 and feeling more settled at my new school entering my second year there, but equally stressed about the effects of having to take so much time off with my injury and surgeries. 

I’ve recently begun to dance again, not Salsa, if I’m honest I’m not sure I’m ever going to be strong enough for that again which breaks my heart, but Sally is teaching Kizomba locally again and as it’s danced in hold, I’ve been able to do it as it doesn’t put much stress on my shoulder. It’s made me so happy to be back and I’ve been in less pain. 

But life is a rollercoaster...... and I don’t recal screaming to go faster!!

Now I’ve had my surgery I’m kind of back to square one, but hopefully with an end in sight. 

I am only the 7th person to have had this surgery which involves a human donor piece of tissue being grafted to what’s left of my tendon and joining it back to the bone ( my tendon had torn clean off the bone ) and whilst they were in there they found I had a second tear which they were also able to repair. The surgeons at Royal National Orthapaedic Hospital Stanmore are amazing and yet again I’ve found myself in the best place for the surgery I’ve needed. It is a postcode lottery out there. I am lucky in many ways. 

Today is day 4 and it’s been a wobbly sort of day. I’m feeling a bit tearful. I hate not being in control at the best of times but this is a real challenge. I am in a forward facing sling for 6 weeks, which are looming long ahead of me. 

Ian has just moved in a week ago and has basically become quite literally my “right hand” man!

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. The shortest honeymoon period ever! 😭 

He’s having to do everything for me. I tell you there is nothing more humbling and undignified than having to have someone wash you because you can’t do it yourself.  He’s supposed to be my lover, not my Carer. I want him to look at me with desire in his eyes, not an eye roll because I’m such a nuisance. 😢

And I am very far from attractive, my hairs a mess, living in my PJs atm, no make up, feeling ugly, naked and vulnerable, helpless and hopeless and I’m struggling a bit with it all today. 

I’ll get over it. I really have no choice. 

Each day is a battle for minuscule successes. I am managing to feed myself and write shakily left handed. I managed a one handed weild of a duster earlier and one handedly emptied the dishwasher. I can make a cup of tea or coffee and managed to make a meal for myself this evening,  thanks to my Mum for the food parcels, I had home made salmon quiche with new potatoes, broccoli and peas.    I’ve been left home alone after a visit from my Betty boo and Jo, Luke’s at work and Ian has gone racing. 

I’m walking a very fine line between trying to not be too stubborn while being as independent albeit limitedly as I can. At the same time I have to accept my limitations and accept help gracefully. And I am grateful, so grateful that Ian is once again my rock. Even through my darkest days he makes me laugh despite the tears. He is the kindest, strongest man I’ve ever known, my ⚓️ and I love him more than he can ever know. If we can survive this start of our life living together I think we can survive almost anything life throws at us. I guess that’s what being partners is all about. The rough with the smooth, taking it in turns to be the strong one for the other, the shoulder to lean on. 

It’s going to be an interesting first Christmas together but I am looking forward to 2019 being a little smoother sailing ⛵️

It’s complicated!

Why do some people find it so hard to say I love you? Or I’m sorry?

Is it lack of experience I wonder. Something that was not present to be observed and learned from in their formative years?

Is it a form of self protection because it makes them feel not in control, feelings they don’t want to have to face or deal with because it makes them feel vulnerable?

Is it a fear of not being loved back, even when it is so obvious that they are, but it’s so overwhelming that they just daren't believe it, so they unconsciously sabotage it.....

or that by admitting that they may actually be in the wrong or they fucked up, they may have to examine themselves and their behaviour and make a choice to stick or twist?

Or maybe, they just aren’t .....

Human beings are complicated

Tick Tock

   

Tick Tock 

I’ve never really worn a watch. I’ve owned a few unremarkable ones but never quite got to grips with them. 

My partner Ian is obsessed with them. He collects them and is very knowledgable about them. 

He’s even got me wearing one on loan from him,  in fact it is the first watch he bought. A very retro Tag Heuer first generation F1 watch from approx 1987 which I think his watch man at C S Bedford Jewellers in Ruislip has his eye on as he always comments on it. Says it’s the coolest watch in the shop right now! It’s not particularly girly, or pretty, certainly no bling! but it was special to him and so it’s special to me.

We were there today for several reasons. Firstly because Ian managed to wash one of his very expensive watches in his jeans pocket! As he said “ suitable for diving to 300m but not so good on a spin cycle in Watford. “ Secondly because we were interested in getting my dear departed Dads old watch serviced as Seiko had said they couldn’t get the parts for it. But of course Ian knows a man that can. 

Now, with a little research from Ian we discovered that it was a watch with a story, as many of them have. Due to its rather striking colours it is known as a  ‘Pepsi ‘ but it’s correct tittle is The ‘Colonel 

Pogue’ seiko 6139. Ironicaly my Dads nickname at when he worked at Sky Sports was ‘The Colonel’

Most watches have Motor Racing or Nautical histories but there are also watches with connection to Aviation and in  this case Space Exploration, The watch is named, so the story goes after said Colonel Pogue who bought the watch in 1973 and took it aboard the Skylab mission 4 which was the final manned mission to the United States first space station. He took it aboard as part of his personal belongings and was never formally approved for mission. The NASA approved watch was a Speedmaster, but it was never the less to become the first chronograph watch ever taken into space. 

As soon as I set eyes on this watch it is like instant time travel. Dad wore little jewellery but this watch is iconic of him and I can’t see it without immediate flashbacks. 

So, I’m discovering that watches have both historical and emotional connections but one thing is for certain, even though it’s nice to look back, time keeps marching us forward, to the future, to make new stories. 

Rainy days

Funerals are never easy. They bring back memories of others we’ve lost and take us back to difficult memories.

The funeral of a child though is unimaginable sad. A life cut short in its prime.

Heartbreaking and the circumstances of this particular death harrowing.

Because Jay was 18yrs old and he was chased down by 4 lads on mopeds in an un provoked, pre planned attack whilst on his way out to a party with friends and stabbed multiple times. 

I didn’t know him that well but I taught his brothers and sister and have known the family for 12 years or so. He was just a couple of years younger than my own son.He used to come along with his mum to pick up his brother and stand awkwardly at the door while mum and I chatted. In later years, all grown up in his high school uniform he used to collect his sister.

The pain on his mums face when she followed his coffin into the rammed church was indescribable. No mother should have to bury their child, it’s the wrong order of things. 

A lot of the congregation were his friends, teenagers. A sea of orange faces, bare legs, dressed up to the nines for his send off as if they were going out clubbing one last time.

I was surrounded by rows of young half men sobbing like little boys. 

The pain was so palpable. These young kids trying to cope and come to terms with such an awful thing.

The weather may have been cold and bleak,  suiting the mood but service was beautiful and fitting. 
The coffin left to a drum n base and suddenly the lads in the back row were smiling and dancing, remembering good times.

The readings were lovely, his sister read beautifully, heartbreakingly and when she ended with “I love you like the big blue sky” everyone fell apart. She is 9yrs old.

The whole family has conducted themselves with such poise and dignity in the most truly awful circumstances.

Jason Isaacs was the 18th teenager in London to die of knife crime last year. 

What a sad statistic of our current society.

There has to be more done to educate kids about knife crime, it is out of control.

There seems to be a proportion of society that has no value for life, yet the service today showed just how very valued Jay’s life was.

Watching how his friends have come together to raise awareness over the last few weeks has been inspiring.
The need to do something, anything to keep his memory alive and change the future so other families won’t have to endure the same tradegy.
Keeping his candles lit at his shrine and coming together at the scene of his death,  The Facebook support page Justice for Jay - Jason Isaacs, The organised fundraisers, The 16 bar MC challenge to raise awareness of knife crime to get the message out there that it is not cool and needs to end brings hope, and after an event like this hope is all you have.

#droptheknifevaluelife