Cellular regeneration

Saturday 26th January

Cellular regeneration. Osmotic energy exchange.
[Osmosis: the movement of liquid from a high concentration to a low concentration until equalization occurs].
Complete collapse.

However described, a brick wall had been hit and I just could not walk.

It’s been a big week.
I went to a job interview for a position that I really wanted. I’ve never prepared so much for an interview before, I read up on every aspect of the charity and the sustainable policies set up by the local council. The more I researched, the more overwhelmed I became but I believed and understood, deep inside of me, that I was getting that job.

“Mama, can you just hurry up and get a job, ’cos there’s stuff I really want to buy,” was about as much support as I could muster from my youngest.

My friend arranged a meeting with her neighbour (a loose term, in a rural sense) who works for the same charity, to give me an overview. I tend to underplay situations, attach to modesty, avoid attention and all the focus on me was getting too much; I was becoming terrified; everyone was wishing me luck.

Needless to say, I survived the interview and by the end of it, had forgotten I was before a panel and was happily content to linger and chat, before finally being ushered out of the room. And, less than 24 hours later, I had been offered the job.
I was relieved, ecstatic, thankful and then overwhelmed with showers of congratulations.

By Friday, after a week of teenage trials and forays into turbulent associated BFF tribulations, we were all exhausted and duly slept in. I dragged myself out of bed, got the girls to the bus stop and simply collapsed.
I had to close my eyes.

I’ve been embroiled in haggling over the sale of my house, my husband’s signature project and it’s wore me down. I can’t see an end in sight and, when I am quiet enough to reflect, I realise that I need to bale out of this deal. I have another buyer waiting on the wings and my inner self tells me to shift to their offer.

I also now understand, that my life is on track, everything is now as it should be, and I need to get this issue sorted before starting my new position. I found a set of tarot cards amongst my husband’s belongings, which have proved to be an infinite source of wisdom and support. They confirm this new clarity and a weight is lifted. Nevertheless, after speaking to secondary buyers and negotiating with my allocated solicitor, I still can’t move. So I give in to this day of stillness.
Mindfulness practice has taught me not to attach to things, to negative thoughts, to accept current states of being.
I can feel a niggling, a rising panic ‘What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I move? I should be doing things, working. I should take the dog for a run, or a bike ride, or at very least, a walk.’

But I do none of these things.
I sleep.
I breathe.
I watch a film about child soldiers in Africa, as one does when one is feeling miserable!
I think about it being Burns Night and how we need to celebrate it, my girls need to respect or at least be aware of our new culture.

Still, I lie, unable to move.
My girls come home, we chat, and I stay glued to the sofa.
We discuss haggis and the birth and history of Robbie Burns and thankfully my youngest takes over dinner preparations, in her usual hotheaded way. She amazingly manages to cook the haggis, a gluten-free non-vegetarian version and refuses the vegetarian option, choosing a Quorn schnitzel instead. I stumble to the table, try to fetch the candle and insist on blessing the haggis (I can do this), poetry recitals, observing custom.
On ceremonial cutting of the haggis, my youngest departs the table in disgust ‘That stinks, I have to leave!’

We’re down to two, and beautifully, enthusiastically, my oldest gets into the spirit, reading ‘Address to a Haggis” in her finest Scots accent, which sounds more like a mixture of African and Indian.
We laugh, we enjoy, we chat, and we decide to leave the rituals until next year. We’re doing ok. I retreat back to my sofa

And now? For the first time since our moving to Scotland, both my girls are away until tomorrow.
I have time… I have space.
I have headspace.
My girls are so happy. I feel great after my day of doing nothing and going nowhere.
And it’s okay.

It’s all right, now and again, to admit to exhaustion, (not defeat). There’s still a lot going on for us, moving away, leaving our home, our base, and our friends. Selling our house; leaving our dreams, our memories and our history is no small feat. I need to remind myself that I’m doing it alone and I desperately miss his calming voice, his sense of reason and his endless patience. 

But when I am quiet, when I allow the stillness, when I am not afraid, I can sense him, feel his love and his wish for us to be happy and settled and in a position to embrace life again.

Sometimes a little ‘Collapse and Collection’, ‘Rest and Relaxation’ are needed in order to embrace and feel the joy again. I’m sure, sometime soon, my C&C will become R&R and balance and equalization will occur. …[Thus equalizing the concentrations of materials on either side of the membrane].

Read from the beginning of the blog



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