Sunday, 27 June 2010


I am watching the minutes tick down till I turn 27 years old.

18 minutes.

I'm searching for some significance in the number 27....I was born 27 years ago. I have lived 27 years.

17 minutes.

I am ushering this new year in alone. There is a couple in the house opposite me snuggling and watching tv.

16 minutes.

My daughter is asleep in the room next to me. My son is inside my stomach, kicking at my ribs. Maybe that isn't alone. To be honest though, it doesn't feel like enough.

15 minutes.

I'm listening to sad music because I want to be able to contemplate this moment, not sure what I'm looking for.

14 minutes.

I'm thinking about how I feel about myself. I'm proud of myself for many things lately:
(for example, last night I camped in the mountains, with my 18 month old daughter and 8 days till
my son is due, I think that's quite an achievement)
I am in shock that I have survived the last 6 months of my life.

13 minutes.

I'm trying to remember my last birthday. I can't remember anything about it. Maybe that's a good thing.

12 minutes.

Time has started to feel like a series of hurdles I have to jump over. How many more days, months, years, till I can live in my moment again?

11 minutes.

How many more leaps till I feel 'over it'.

10 minutes.

There is little, if anything, from my past that I can recall without feeling so desperately sad. Because it all happened with a feeling of continuity. Then things so abruptly stopped. With no warning

9 minutes.

I need new memories, new hopes, new dreams.

8 minutes.

7 minutes.

Do we start out with blissfully naive ideas about life and with time we learn not to have such high hopes? Or has life been dandy and then bam, a sudden dip?? I don't really have perspective on that at the moment.

6 minutes.

I don't know what to wish for when I blow the candles out.

5 minutes.

Honest to goodness, you know what I wished for for as long as I can remember. every. single. time. I had the opportunity to wish for anything?

4 minutes.

For true love. Really. As sentimental as it sounds it really is what I always wished for. I've never told anyone that before, because I was a little superstitious about telling wishes.

3 minutes.

But I'm not sure if I should wish for that anymore. I assumed that true love was permanent. I thought I'd found it. So I either wasn't truly loved or true love isn't (necessarily) permanent.

2 minutes.

I wish to be the best I can be.

1 minute.

The best mother, daughter, friend, sister, neighbour... To be the best that I can be to myself.

I am 27 years old and I wish that I am enough.

Thursday, 17 June 2010

A Breach in Self Security.

From the latest University of Ulster art show

There are so many things I wanted to say, but couldn't.

I can't be vulnerable with you and that hurts so much. You were always my person to run to when I felt vulnerable. When I was scared my friends were leaving me out, when I didn't like the way I looked, when I'd left my assignments to the last minute, again, when i thought i'd been cruel, when I found out my mum was dying....I was always running to you. Now you are the last person I can run to.

I wanted to tell you how desperately I missed you. How you are my best friend and I need my best friend. Every time I laugh, every time I cry, every time I'm bored, every time I see a movie, hear a song, hang a picture, go for a walk, every night when I get into bed, I miss you. But you can't be my refuge any longer, you are no longer safe. It's done.

I hate to see you sabotage yourself. Because I care about you and, dare I say it, Because I love you. I used to lie on your chest, listening to your heart beat and worry for how fragile you sounded. To think that your existence, would vanish if that heartbeat stopped, or at least it would to me. I remember sitting with you, squeezing your leg when you got a tooth pulled out. I saw the bright red blood trickle down your chin and it made me ache to think of your blood being spilt. the vulnerability, the fragility, of you.

Yes, it makes me furious to see you walk out on our children. But it also makes me so painfully sad, for YOUR sake. You were born to be a daddy. And you loved it, it brought you so much joy. You frequently referred to it as 'the best thing in the world'. Now the thought of them must hurt, to see a photo of our molly - it must be agony.

Of course I want her to be able to run into her daddy's arms, but I also want YOU to be able to hold your daughter. To giggle with her, to tickle her till she's sick, to teach her amazing things about blades of grass, to gaze at the stars with her. I want you to be able to hold your newborn son in your arms and beam with pride. Instead you'll be seeing a photo on the internet, you'll be one spectator in a crowd, and you'll feel sadness. That's not the way it should be.

I wish I could save you from yourself. I think, if I could, I'd stand in front of a bus to stop you, I would.

Wednesday, 16 June 2010

febrile convulsions

so today molly had a seizure. it was completely terrifying. i had my first ever ride in an ambulance. not something i ever hope to repeat.

it's called a "febrile convulsion" and is apparently quite common. she's staying overnight in hospital and should be discharged tomorrow.

i got a phone call from canada, her father. first i've heard from him in around 5 months. i think today really made me realise how much of a single parent i am. i see now his parenting role in molly's life is always going to be... inadequate. I really missed having a someone to cling to today.

Wednesday, 9 June 2010

The postman came bearing gifts

I'd like to boast about these two lovely surprise treats I received in the post lately. I never ever get personal mail so it's been v.special. First came the beautiful watercolour from the unbelievably talented Tina Newlove. I met Tina briefly when she was touring with Tribe of One and loved watching her paint whilst Mr Rik Leaf resounded some poetry and song.

It is so beautiful and came with a lovely note saying:
I hope you enjoy this little watercolour. She's a bit sad but so pretty. And I'm sure things will be looking up for her soon.
This was so sweet and gives me a big smile every time I see my sad little clown.

Then, came my pretty New Leaf Necklace from Alaina. I've worn it every day since I got it and it's a constant reminder of the other mums out there standing with me and trying to figure out parenting solo style. Rising up under the day to day pressures and not being shot down by the stigma.

On that note, I would love to ask a question to those who've already seen the new SATC movie. There is a scene with Miranda and Charlotte talking about how hard motherhood is. At the end of the scene one shouts out something like "and I do this with a husband and full time help, how do women do it without those safety nets?" the other says "I have no f***ing idea". End Scene.

I wanna know how did this dialogue make you feel? A friend today was telling me how much it annoyed her to see them complaining despite all the support they had. And it angered her to think of how I would feel listening to the two spoilt ladies rant and rage.

On the other hand, I actually felt quite affirmed by that scene in the movie. I almost forgot all my repressed, white, irishness and yelled out an "AMEN" right there in the cinema. Parenting is really hard work, no matter what way you do it, but I am glad that they tipped there hat to those who do it alone.