The comfort of childhood.

Laura and I recently had a funny convo about the stuffed toys we had as kids.

As Laura is a Art Psychotherapist we delved right into the theories behind why we are both still attached to our beloved stuffed toys.

Laura’s was a teddy called Sampson and mine was a Koala Bear. The big reveal was that we both definitely still have those stuffies.

I keep mine tucked away, out of sight from the other adults who occupy my living quarters. But I know my koala is there, just in case.

On several long, and lonely nights after my diagnosis, my koala bear climbed out of his tote bag in my closet, and crawled into bed with me. I held him so tightly, as though he was the only part of me that was still whole.

The idea of letting go – of a dream, of a life – felt so big, and the only way I could do it was to hold on to the vulnerable bits inside of me. To really care for the tender parts that no one else could see. And slowly, I began to release.

Kadi

 

Sampson was gifted to me as a baby, he is a rigid fully jointed bear, not a real one for cuddling, but I did tell him all my secrets and swear he would move around the room when I was asleep. Fast-forward to now, Sampson sits proud with my school tie around his neck right bang centre on the spare bed.

Although as grown women it may feel odd to understand the need to cuddle an object from our childhood, it leads back to our first steps in self regulation, to creating a character within these stuffed toys that would always be reliable, dependable and hold our deeper most inner wishes thoughts and dreams.  They have sat by our sides through the hard times, they do not judge, they are just there, our constant in an ever changing world.

In those vulnerable moments, I will pull Sampson by my side and somehow through some mere stuffing, fur, eyes and a lot of stitching, it can make those vulnerable moments feel less lonely.

Laura

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Our toys are transitional objects. A theory developed by paediatrician and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott.  We project feelings onto them and they act as our first understanding of ‘not me objects’. They start to help us regulate our emotions outwith the needs of our mothers. The objects serve more than just emotional support but lead to play, known as the ‘intermediate space’ a development of a healthy mind.

 

Linus form the famous comic Peanuts, starring Snoopy carries round his blanket, known as a ‘security blanket; this is his transitional object.

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At times we all need to find a time that reminds us of joy, freedom and comfort. Often this does involve grabbing something significant from your past, this could be a photo, a blanket or indeed a beloved stuffed toy.

It is a part of our human nature and natural as grown women to seek comfort and be whisked back to a different time in ever changing and shifting world.

 

To read more there is a great article here: Still have your childhood teddy?

When it came to choosing the art work we decided upon the wonderful work of Garbiella Barouch her work carried us of into another place, like dreaming as if we were children. The work encapsulates a world of wonderment and beauty. Please go and check out her work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One Wild & Precious Life

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” – From the poem ‘The Summer Day,’ by Mary Oliver

This beautiful Mary Oliver quote gets a lot of airtime on the Insta poetry meme circuit. And it should, it’s a big, brilliant, beautiful quandary summed up into 15 little words. 

But it overwhelms me. 

I’ve had many lives, so far, and I’m still not sure what I did with any of them. 

The Single Life – Filled with long nights, and restless days. A life brimming with self doubt and insecurity, but also a freedom that could not be ignored. Anything possible at any moment, although many moments wasted – or rather, spent – in youthful ennui. 

The Early Menopause Life –This one involved A LOT more reading. I learned about all the weirdness that happens inside of a young body when it decides that it’s time to shut down the whole baby-making apparatus. I tried hormone replacements, and experienced insane side effects. I tried no hormones and worried myself to death that I maybe I should be on hormones. This life involved a lot of body examination, and really coming to terms with all the quirks. Not for the faint of heart. 

And finally, The Living-With-It Life – And what is there to say, really? That’s just what you do. Live with it. I watch my friends and family tick the time away by crushing life’s milestones. 

Married: CHECK! 

House: CHECK! 

Babies: CHEK! 

First steps, first birthdays. 

School and summer vacations. 

Every moment of the year, season, future, accounted for. Although, I know that their lives are unpredictable, there is a  framework for them – the familied, the parentals. It’s a frame that doesn’t fit around my amorphous childless/free life. 

There’s no roadmap for un-married, childless/free women. Just a long stretch of highway. 

I’ve wasted a lot of energy fretting over my poor usage of all the free time. Afraid that I’m letting the moments slip away, unnoticed. Lots of TV watched. So much social media scrolled. Long, aimless walks. Naps. (A lot of naps.)

But at the end of all of it, there is a relentless freedom. One that pulls me toward my passions, and creates space for my loved ones. I can be counted on to be present. Because where else am I gonna be? 

So what do I want to do with my ONE wild and precious life? I dunno.

There’s another quote from that beautiful poem that resonates so much deeper for me:

“I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

 

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Xx

Kadi 

Illustration by: Lizzie – www.lizzyartworkshop.com

 

I am woman hear me ROAR

Femininity, I can’t say the word let alone spell it, the m’s n’s get me in a muddle and so often I avoid using the word altogether. My dyslexia makes it hard to say and to spell but there are other reasons I have in the past not felt an affinity to the word.

I have felt removed, detached like it was not a word that described anything I could recognise or feel.

I rejected the word because I felt like it rejected me.

Me my femininity and I have not always seen eye-to-eye.

In fact we have been devoid of each other a lack of connection, a split and inherent misunderstanding of the role that we played in each other’s life.

As a child I was not into girly things, yes I liked Beatrix Potter, but I mainly liked climbing trees, being outside and riding my bike.

Fast forward to this very day not much has changed, aside from the fact my body has shifted through teens to adult hood and now I am in my late 30’s with a body that feels like its bears a few scars as markers of the years gone by.

I feel like I have never conformed to the archetypal female. I chopped my hair short after years of it being really long and dressed in men’s clothes; I struggled to be comfortable in my own skin. I bought sports bras that fitted so tight reducing the size of my breasts; I worked out so much to shift any curves.  I focused on growing muscle so I would look lean and be strong.

I calorie counted until I was so skinny and I thought I would be happy but I was miserable, I couldn’t get my body to fit what I wanted or who I felt like I was in my head.

Then enter Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, a return of Alopecia who brought along its friend Vitiligo and Fibromyalgia.

My body internally and externally was stripping back of all I knew. My body stopped being able to move, I was consumed by overwhelming fatigue, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t eat without my body having reactions to food.

I couldn’t think, a low fog engulfing every space in my brain, my hair started to fall out in patches and my Vitiligo graced me with its presence on my face for the world to see.

Days and months became a sea of tests, sleeping, hurting, thinking and the regeneration of all that is feminine within me.

The shifting point was the day I decided to shave my head, the day I decided I wasn’t going to let my hair fall out, I would celebrate it and join it on its journey.  That was liberating, I was stripped back, my face was there for all to see, the tiredness, the Vitiligo, the puffiness, but I didn’t care because it was me.

 

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Infertility, autoimmune disorders, loss and grief create who I am today, it has gifted me the understanding of what it is to be feminine.

It is not having long hair, to have perfect skin an unrealistic body and it certainly is not being a Mother.

What makes me feminine? The way I feel, the way I think, and the way I allow myself to be guided by my intuition.

My strength and determination, my ability to sit and feel the challenging emotions, to let them rise and fall, to acknowledge them and celebrate them in all their glory.

To stand tall, to own my Alopecia, my Vitiligo, my CFS, my PCOS and my Infertility. Together they have a created a cocktail of experiences, layered, complex and churned together in my body, but that body is me.

CFS was a pause, a time to stop a time of reflection, and a time to tune into my body, my soul and feel what I really wanted.

I delved into my creativeness, swam in my thoughts and ideas, had wild imaginings and let my soul dance and sing.

I let my body dance the dance of the feminine. I let my soul sing a haunting melody of what has brought me to where I am today.

I reconnected with my inner child and now together we play and delight in our womanly abundance.  I feel a strength within, I feel it rise and grow as I acknowledge it, listen to it and know that I am all-feminine.

I am me, I am strong, I am feminine, I am a wild woman, with fire in her belly and strength in her soul.

I am female hear me Roar!

 

Illustration by Rachel Sego

Rachel is the deisgner of Anotherhoods logo, check out her work on her website Rachel Sego Illustration or insat @rachelsegoillustration