It's been a long time, a really long time. There have been lots of changes. Last year I was studying to become a teaching assistant, now I am working full time as a teaching assistant in a school that's a twenty minute walk from my house. My eldest boy also started secondary school in September and the youngest boy started being looked after by two different childminders before and after school as I can no longer commit to the school run. So, after ten years, I am no longer dropping off and collecting the children from the school playground.
Life is full and busy and after half a term of riding the wave of change with adrenaline and perhaps even euphoria, now the built up tiredness is kicking in. I feel weary at the moment. But there's never a good time to start back here, that's why it has taken so long to return. Many many drafts have been written on my phone and never published, many. But I ache for the ritual of posting here. I long to tell my story, even if it is me telling my story to I, because just getting that story down in the first place somehow makes it real, it marks the passing of time and is forever logged and memory being what it is, I know I'll describe these current days and weeks differently if I reflect on them at another time or phase, even if its just a subtle difference.
Story is everything. Often when there is heartache or heartbreak, there's either a need to keep telling your story or the ache and the break silence you. I have felt mute since a big family falling out of sorts exactly a year ago. It was all full of drama and hurt and made me think deeply about my perception of closeness and relationship, understanding and empathy, it has made me re-think my priorities and re-examine my strengths and weaknesses. I have thought a lot about my role as both victim and perpetrator and as a woman and as a mother and as the little girl always trying to please.
Growing up is hard, especially when you realise that the lessons keep coming and that the answers aren't always black or white. Sometimes the palette has to get messy around the edges, things have to get dirtied in order to find new shades of colour. So, I think that's where I am, mixing new shades. Some are beautiful and unexpected, others are a little murkier and leave me with regret but I wouldn't be without any of the shades, they each tell a story of their own, ones that I am ready to tell once again.
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