Walking with the moon

A creative living in the real world…

Strong. June 23, 2016

Filed under: Uncategorized — hannahoakland @ 1:27 pm

Last week I took delivery of a jumper. A new jumper. It’s beautiful. Black, and gold, and super-cosy. And entirely seasonally appropriate for the first week of summer. At least it is in our corner of the world, anyway. Seriously. What’s with all the rain?

It’s a statement jumper. And, disregarding the fact that I am, by all accounts, far too old for a statement jumper (even Elvie told me that it makes me look like a teenager), I love it. Besides the fact that it’s not so much a statement as just one super-important word. ‘Strong.’ I know, right? Strong? On a ladies jumper? Feminist me up, buttercup.

It comes from the wonders over at Selfish Mother and I love it. (Disclaimer: I totally bought it myself – nobody’s bribed me to say this.) So much so that, as soon as it arrived, I had to try it on, and take the obligatory slightly blurry selfie, complete with muscle-baring five year old. You’re welcome.

20160611_113219

Strong is a funny old word. It’s not one that I really like to use about myself. It feels a bit cocky somehow. Certainly, if you’d seen me last night, curled up on the sofa under a blanket with a bowl of ice cream after a serious pre-menstrual dizzy spell, it wouldn’t have been the first word that came to mind.

But I’m coming round to the idea. Which is why I bought the jumper. As a reminder. That I can wear on my chest, to jog my memory on the days when everything feels too much. Because we are strong. All of us. All of us who fight the demons in our heads every single day. All of us who get up and show up and parent every day, regardless. All those of us whose anxiety, driven to absolute fever pitch by the relentless and ridiculous referendum campaigning, needed to make an emergency escape plan before we could go to vote this morning. In case of rogue shooters. But who went and voted anyway. For instance. We’re warriors. All of us.

Last weekend we went to church camp. In the woods. But, mercifully, not in a tent. There was tea. There was cake. There was even a puppet-tortoise wedding, where the ‘bride’ came down the aisle on a remote-controlled car and we laughed so hard that we were actually, genuinely, weeping. There was community with some of the most precious people I have ever had the privilege of knowing. And there was absolute bucketloads of strong.

Teenagers who got up and sang, acapella, in front of the entire, enormous group of us. People opening their hearts, having conversations and sharing tables with others that they’d never spoken to before. Grown women, and men, letting three year-olds paint their nails. With real nail varnish. And not wiping it off straight away. That’s a special kind of strong, right there.

I wore my jumper. A lot. To remind me that actually, I can be strong too. Because solo parenting at church camp when your husband’s new client needs him in France for the whole weekend, is mighty hard going. Particularly when my last few church camp experiences have involved a) camping in a tent in actual zero degree temperatures, with an 8 month old, b) a full-on nervous breakdown and c) more tears and tantrums than I care to remember. Some of which came from the children.

But we did it. This time. Just the three of us – and everyone else. And, whisper it, we even had some fun. I held it together, the kids got just about enough sleep to function, and we only lost Joel once. Totally found him again too. Winning. Some of it even got caught on camera. (Thanks Becky.)

13522703_10155053924188079_8328920022333689321_o

I love this picture – mostly because you can’t tell at all that Joel’s sweet head resting in my lap is actually mid-enormous-tantrum because I wouldn’t let him go back for yet another cake before everyone else had chance to get at least one. And they say the camera never lies.

The biggest surprise of the weekend for me, was Elvie. Usually, in these situations, she has a tendency to withdraw herself. To run off in another direction, refuse point-blank to join in, and occupy herself underneath a table, or a puddle, or by ‘cleaning’ the bathroom floor. This year was different.

This year she blossomed. Before my very eyes. She played frisbee, and volleyball, and sardines. Despite never having played them before and not really knowing the rules. She ran off happily by herself to her kids group – helped enormously by her huge girl-crush on the leaders. She walked down the aisle as a bridesmaid at the tortoise wedding, turned cartwheels in the field with the big girls, ate the food at every mealtime, and even stood up by herself in the final meeting to tell everyone, through the microphone, what a brilliant time she’d had. She was fierce. She was brave. She was strong.

It struck me, afterwards, that it was all connected. All this strong. She’d seen me be brave. She’d seen me be vulnerable. She’d seen me let myself go, and have fun with my friends. And she’d done exactly the same.

She mirrors me. A lot. Almost always. And it’s not often so positive. I’m grabbing hold of last weekend, with both hands. As a reminder of what we can do. Of who we can be. Me and my Elvie girl. When we’re real, and we’re brave and we’re strong. That jumper’s for both of us. For all of us.

This week has been harder. Reaping the rewards of the hours of sleep we missed. More tantrums. More dizzy spells. More rain. But the memories are keeping me warm. As is the jumper.

Because we all have it in us. However deep it’s buried. That real, that brave, and that strong. Dig it out today. And act on it. Be strong. Go on. I dare you.

You never know who’s watching.

Advertisements
 

6 Responses to “Strong.”

  1. WomanLoved Says:

    I love the top btw! Xx

  2. Jo Clutton Says:

    Hello Hannah, I’m Jo, I’m British (Hampshire), and I recently subscribed to your blog. I see you’re a creative and with a book deal – amazing! Well done! – a mum, and you suffer depression.

    I’m 62 and have suffered on and off for 30 years. Two years ago I had a medication crisis but was lucky enough to find the right treatment (medication and cognitive behavioral therapy) and today I’m better than I’ve ever been. I’m an artist, writer, traveller and wild westerner ( http://www.kitty-le-roy.co.uk) and I’m now building my life back up again. I’ve been writing a novel forever and am finally finding the encouragement to finish it. I’ve written ‘The End’ many times, but it’s a beginning, a muddle and an end!

    So, just to say hi, and keep at it. You seem to be doing really well – parenting is extremely hard work, but you’re obviously doing fine. Well done!

    Jo Hampshire

    On Jun 23, 2016 2:27 PM, “Walking with the moon” wrote: > > hannahoakland posted: “Last week I took delivery of a jumper. A new jumper. It’s beautiful. Black, and gold, and super-cosy. And entirely seasonally appropriate for the first week of summer. At least it is in our corner of the world, anyway. Seriously. What’s with all the rain?” >

    • Hi Jo – thanks so much for getting in touch – just checked out your western website, and it looks like the most fun! So glad you found someone to accompany you on your wild adventures! Really hope the ‘muddle’ sorts itself out soon – keep going, and let us know when it’s done so we can all read it! So lovely to ‘meet’ you! xx

  3. Liz Banks Says:

    I’m remembering the last camping event possibly with church, where you ended up going home and deciding camping wasn’t for you. You were planning not to put your self through it again, so I’m delighted to read how much you enjoyed this one and especially the obviously joy you felt watching your ‘mini me’ loving every minute of it all. Plus you went as single mum without your steady man for support! Keep wearing the jumper, it’s clearly working! Blessing to you and yours. Xxx

  4. Pippa Says:

    Hi Hannah, a friend bought me your book for my birthday recently and I just wanted to say thank you (I’ve thanked my friend too!). I can’t tell you how much your words resonate with me – it is the closest I’ve ever come to reading the inside of my own head – and they are giving me hope as I try to recover from a virus, off work and pregnant with my 3rd, only just holding on in my own ongoing battle with depression. I’m sure you have had many such responses but I’m sure one more won’t hurt! Thank you for your honesty, lots of blessings to you and your family xx

    • Hi Pippa, thank you so much for your lovely words – and for finding the time in your hectic life to actually send the message! It’s so massively appreciated – and such an enormous privilege to have been able to help in some way. Wishing you huge love, massive strength and an incredible support network as you prepare for the arrival of no. 3 – you brave, brilliant woman! So much love to you and your family xxx


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s