Sisterhood

Good morning good morning all you lovely women! Today's posting has been sent in by author Sue Hill of Barricaine Books in Devon. Sue very kindly offered her musing on the theme of  'Sisterhood', and here it is for your enjoyment. Please do send in your notions of what 'sisterhood' means to you and/or your own story, I will be happy to post it up for other women to share.

Sisterhood

by Sue Hill

 

The two times that immediately come to mind are birth and dying.  The birth of my son’s son, his first child, and, at the other end of life, my mother’s last years.

My grandson arrived two days after Christmas; staffing levels were down at the (beautifully named) Ladywell Unit at the local hospital.  The birth was taking a long time … the hours passed slowly … I was aware that for the male partner the whole experience can be long, and mysterious .. men are witnesses to such an unknown procedure … this was not my son’s partner’s first child, which somehow made his role more vulnerable …

By evening, and no baby, I thought “He’ll be hungry!”  We made fresh chicken sandwiches and took them to the hospital.  We found the Ladywell Unit all closed up; I had to ring a bell and speak through an intercom; could I come in?  “I have sandwiches for my son ….”  !!! 

I was allowed in ……

I stepped in and it was like walking into a cocoon of muffled cotton wool clouds, how the top of clouds seem when seen through the windows of a plane … it was a silent cocoon, wrapped up, safe …

Save for my son, there were no males in sight … it was a female environment, the team of midwives and nurses working quietly together towards a successful birth.

---------------

I hadn’t known that things had just come to a crisis and that Dan’s partner was just being given an epidural … so my appearance with the sandwiches was not very well-timed!  Maybe I overdid the Mother Hen bit!

-------------------------

And at the other end of life, the years of the running-down of life, and the team of women carers who became my mother’s life-line;  women working for a pittance, and yet cheerful and warm and lovely.  They became real friends to mum, and to our family; they made mum laugh, one lady even took mum in her arms and danced her around the lounge …. marvellous  ….

When there was a change of agency, and a new set of carers started, there was a younger Eastern European woman, called Slava … mum couldn’t get her head around her name … Slava became Salvia, Saliva ( just as mum’s mother, my Granny, couldn’t get Jeremy, my husband’s name .. … he became Germany, Jeremeny) … Slava announced “Don’t worry, I will look after your mum!”  And she did, beautifully.

------------------

I miss seeing those ladies … I hope that their working conditions have improved, that they are getting paid for their travelling time (and the petrol), that they are allowed to spend time with the elderly and not be rushed … I hope those ladies have happy lives.

So – caring women who form part of the great sisterhood.

And my own sister … with mum gone, we ring each other now after travelling any distance, to say “We’re home safely”. 

-----------------

I do not pretend that all women are such caring people.  I have been hurt by supposed friends, and known the spiteful bitchiness of working colleagues.  They are better not thought about.

For the lovely ladies in life, I salute you!

 Sue

The 'sod it' space and the 'I am crap' space

Good morning ladies,
well it is Monday morning and like many of you I find Monday morning's the hardest part of the week to conquer.  All of last week I juggled plates on wonky sticks, I did this the previous week and the one before.....and the one before that too. By the end of each week I see how far I have got, and because I rarely ever ever give up on anything, I look at the things that have gone none too well and I think of ways in which I might try again or differently.  I am very good at putting a positive spin on this so when talking with colleagues I will refer to the process as 'refinement' and taking a 'new direction'.  To be honest it is often the failures that have lead me to develop something better and indeed many refusals and knock backs have caused me to rethink something and come up with something innovative.
There are however moments when I am totally fed up with 'going back to the drawing board' and I feel myself enter the space of 'sod it'. 'Sod it' is a place that I am sure you are familiar with, it is the place that often leads to drinking a whole bottle of wine instead of a couple of glasses, it means instead of keeping your calm exterior when someone tells you that your work is not relevant you tell them to sod off, it means that instead of encouraging some lazy arsed bastard to finish or even begin the work they promised you you tell them to shove it adfinitum rectum. 
The sod it space is not a space in which you have what life coaches call  'self limiting beliefs' oh no no no no. The space where you have 'self limiting beliefs' is called the 'I am crap' space and should not be confused with the 'sod it' space. The reason we sometimes get confused is because the two are connected through a revolving door. The difference is that in the 'I am crap' space you doubt yourself in the 'sod it' place you doubt others.
You have to be careful about which side of the revolving door you end up on and too much time spent in either space is not good. Short bouts in the 'I am crap'  space can toughen you up, make you value yourself and what your trying to achieve, similarly short bouts in the 'sod it' space can give you a welcome break from agreeing with the myopia and stupidity of others.
If you are in the 'sod it' space because others have not yet realised your worth then my advice to you this morning is do not give up on yourself, and if your situation allows it give up on the doubters instead.  I say this last bit because not all of us have the luxury of being able to give the two fingered salute without the repercussions that may follow. Leave the frustrating situation with dignity and move on. Re-direct your energies, someone somewhere will see your utter genius and snap you up but only if you stop wasting time on a situation that gives no returns.
If you are in the 'I am crap' space well you need to stop right now and I mean right now from feeling sorry for yourself. You are not crap. Have a look at what you are trying to do and do it better. Get support, ask for help. Don't give up.
If like me you have been in both spaces and know well enough just how long you need to idle there but just need something to smooth your way into Monday have a listen to this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4P1x7Yy9CXI



Thank you for joining me this morning, I have thoroughly enjoyed your company. Do call again and tell you friends to drop in.
If you want to share your stories with me and the rest of the ladies who read 'real woman's words' drop me a message. I would be happy to publish your story too.

The Waiting Crossroads

Today's posting is inspired by this quip of comedian Lily Tomlin.

"I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realise I should have been more specific".

The reason that his has inspired me is that I find myself at yet another crossroads and uncharacteristically find myself stopping and thinking about which way to go next. This crossroads that I find myself at is one I have taken to calling the 'waiting crossroads' simply because it is one that requires the traveller to wait.
To date the paths I have chosen to take in life have been lit by an intuitive lamp, the light from the lamp helped me to see something that I became interested in and so pursued. The pursuing has usually involved a lot of hard work but the opportunity to pursue has always been there. So for example many years ago I studied nursing and became a nurse, I worked hard. I became interested in law, I studied law and became a lawyer.  I worked hard. I became interested in teaching, I studied teaching and became a teacher. I worked hard. I became interested in research and I studied for a Masters degree in Philosophy and followed this up by a PhD. I worked hard. I developed an interest in learning from errors and coaching. I studied coaching and became a coach. I worked hard.

All of the times I became interested in something I realise that I had arrived at a crossroads on the path that I had chosen for myself. By reaching a crossroads I had the opportunity to carry on the path I walked on or try a different path. You can see from the story I have just told you that I have always chosen a different path, the path of the unfamiliar.
Standing at the crossroads this time it is as if the roads I have travelled all converge in this one place, and that to go on I must once again choose but choose with the benefit of hindsight and not foresight. This time though I have not had the instinctive lamp to light the way, instead I have no lamp. So I ask myself this question, if all of the paths lead to here where or what is here? Who am I? 
I am comfortable with the process of self-reflection and am even getting good at being in the here and now or 'mindfulness' that is lauded as the way to make sense of our complex and changing lives. But these activities do not seem to bring about the clarity that it is I need to choose a path to walk down. It seems that as well as allowing myself to sit here in the present I also need to immerse myself in the choices so far made in order to see the pattern, and by doing so I will be able to either add to the existing pattern or change it completely.
Sitting still is not in my nature, I am a woman of action, I am challenged by the stillness by having to wait. Initially I ran down lots of paths because the stopping and staying still was too difficult, this led to lots of cul-de-sacs and a whole heap of frustration. But now I am waiting. I sit at my crossroads and I wait and I trust that the next path will become apparent but will only become apparent if I wait.
 



Going back to Lily Tomlin, this waiting crossroads is one that allows you to be more specific. It is one you come to only after you have chosen many others. So my women friends the wisdom I can offer to you from my experience is this, when you do not know which path to take do not take one. The waiting crossroads is one of importance.This is unlike others. This one requires you to stop and wait. Eventually the path that is for you will become clear. Then you should proceed.

I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.
Lily Tomlin
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/l/lily_tomlin.html#YtARC07J0B7dWohp.99

I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.
Lily Tomlin
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/l/lily_tomlin.html#YtARC07J0B7dWohp.99

I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.
Lily Tomlin
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/l/lily_tomlin.html#YtARC07J0B7dWohp.99I a

Fall down Seven Times, Get up Eight

Hello all you wonderful women, today I am very proud to bring you this story from Tracy McMahon. 

Fall down Seven Times, Get up Eight

It’s cemented in stone. I have committed the crime of fraud. I’m a mother, a partner, a sister, a daughter and I am a friend. I fell from the rails and committed one of the worst acts in the eyes of the British Public, however minor the amount was in the great scheme of the world we live in today.

I lost everything. My children, my home, the love of my life and ultimately, I lost all moral fibre. After a legal battle to see my children that lasted five years to pay my legal fees, I started a life of crime. That battle has not ended and as my children are now adults, the battle continues within me and there are no other words to describe the feeling other than it feels like I have been stabbed every single day of my life being without them. I’ve hurt my father, my mother, my children and some very good friends. However, I own my crimes and those who want to make it their own have chosen this route and I am in no position to change the direction of their sails. Overnight my friends disappeared from my life vowing never to speak to me again. To date, they have stood by their words. I can only make amends where I am allowed to.

I was sentenced four months ago, on June 14^th. I honestly thought I was going to prison. I had been warned that I was going to prison. I was transferred in a van via the M6 motorway to a Northern court where my sentence was to be passed. Breaking the news to my mother was one of the hardest tasks I have ever had to do. My mother has the mental disorder, schizophrenia, yet my pain somehow brought her back to the reality which was staring her in the face. Her daughter was going to prison. People waved the newspaper article in her face, the same people who have taunted her for years and who she has closed out in her mind as she enters her own world that doesn’t exist for you and me.

I lived on a canal bank. I was not given a custodial sentence. As desperate as I felt, something flickered in me. At the back of my mind, there was a pilot light burning away quietly. That light brought me a smile and despite the fear, I picked myself up, dusted myself down and I write today from a very different platform. I have picked up my business and given it a dusting down. I write for a respected publication and in the New Year, I am to offer work to women who have also fallen from the path we are supposed to tread in the boundaries of the society we live in.

I’ve learned my lesson. I fell down seven times and the eighth time I got up; I stood up and stood tall. I’ve worked 15 hours a day to bring my business to a workable level. Those who were once my nemesis have now become my friends. Those who refuse to speak with me, I can do nothing about.

Remember that little pilot light? I touched it and it is now a towering inferno. That little pilot light was the little voice that was telling me to keep trying and in the great words of Mary Ann Radmacher;

Courage is not always the lion that roars, sometimes it’s the little voice in the corner that says; “I will try again tomorrow”

My pilot light was my courage.

Tracey McMahon is the author of Tyranny and Keeping the National in the National 

 Probation Service. She also features as part of the "View From" series on Criminal Law  

Please carry on sharing your stories with us here on realwomanswords, leave a comment or contact me to become a guest author. Dr. Dee Gray

You have a daughter

Today is my daughter's birthday. She is 22. I can't quite believe that she is 22 after all I am only 21. I asked her how on earth she could now be older than me and she pithily replied 'simple Mum, I do time travel'.  Ah of course, it all makes sense now.

It is of course very easy to time travel, today my time travelling took me back 22 years to the gore and glory of the birth of my daughter. Today I allowed myself the indulgence of time which was used to sit near to the lake where I live and remember the hours before she emerged battered, distressed and bleeding into the world.
I had been realistically aware that birth plans are often not worth the paper they are written on but this was hardly the birth I had hoped for.
The experience was full of weird paradoxes, some of the staff were wonderfully kind and attentive, some were brutal and cruel. As I lay in pain, trying to focus on the music that I had chosen to welcome my baby, I was drawn instead to a choir of screams from the women in the other rooms, screams that I knew soon I would also contribute to.
After being allowed to go the full length and breadth of trying to bring my baby forth the hospital staff decided I was in maternal distress, an understatement if ever there was one, and decided to assist the birth with the use of a ventouse cap and a pair of forceps. The first of these horror inducing instruments fractured my unborn baby's skull, the second caused her to decide she had had enough, she was off to whence she had come and to prove the point her monitor 'flat lined'. Cue emergency caesarian.
For whatever reason before my baby was born I had been convinced I was carrying a son, not because I preferred a son I just thought I was carrying a boy. I was so convinced that I had a name for a boy but not for a girl. As I was rushed off to theatre and was put under the anaesthetic my last thoughts were they have killed my baby, they have killed my son.
A little while later, I surfaced from the anaesthetic with the sort of pain that I would equate to what it might feel like if the lower part of your body has been in a crushing machine and has been ripped and mangled. I begged for someone to be my friend, I can clearly remember crying out 'please help me, please help me'. Thankfully whoever was in charge of pain relief mercifully dosed me up and I was wheeled back to the ward in a fog.
Once there I asked for my baby, I was told 'you have a daughter' and she was placed into my arms. A girl? I have a girl? Oh lucky day oh happy day that I should have a girl.
That day was her birthday. Every birthday since I have felt the same blinding love.  So for all of you Mothers and daughters out there who may be celebrating today on the 4th November I would like to share our story with you and a song.

Have a listen and to all of you Happy Birthday....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tT86AoSGEL8