March 2, 2014 by judyfairbairns

Island Blog 127 Reasons to Stay

Since writing my book, Island Wife, I have received many emails and letters from women whose own story relates to my own. Some of them are short, some long and detailed, but many of them have the same question to ask me. Why did I stick with my marriage?

The ‘how’ of it, I can answer. Despite what appeared to be going on, and growing shape and form, I could always find one good reason to stay, one reason, however small and squeaky. There may well have been a thousand reasons to leave, but it only took one to keep me in place. In the early days, the reasons numbered five. My five children. I was confident and strong in the knowing that, were I to abandon ship, they would be damaged. I make no judgement, nor did I ever, on women who do leave. In fact, as I re-investigate my heart right now on this matter, I feel no critical twinges, nor any sense of superiority beside those good women who made a choice, a really tough one and one not without considerable personal angst and pain, guilt and fear. I just couldn’t do it myself, not for long, anyway.

I used to watch other wives and mothers, as they flew in on warm winds to stay at Tapselteerie for their family holidays. I warmed myself in the light of their eyes, eyes that told me they had found a nourishing bond in their own relationships, and that they were, yes, happy. Of course, I have no knowledge of them now, but those glimpses into another’s life both helped and hindered me. On the one hand, they made me envious. They had managed to find a man who honoured them just as they came to him, not in need of any re-arranging, not faulty. The new light they brought to the marriage was something he needed, wanted to be around, in order to find fulfillment. He basked in it, sought her wisdom, let her be. On the other hand, they made me feel that, had I been like them, I would also deserve such freedom within a relationship. Oh poor little me.

As the children began to try out their wings and, eventually, flew the nest, I became increasingly aware that I was being abandoned by the five who gave me context. Who am I now? is a question I often asked myself, as the rooms hollowed out and the quiet of ‘just us’ settled like dust. People, friends, told me that this was now my time to do something for me, and, yet, after decades of not doing something for me, I had no ideas at all. When someone has ploughed the same furrow for that length of time, investing fully in the work of every day, and night, it is almost cruel to take it all away and to offer a wide horizon. What could a no-longer-girl like me do with a broad horizon? I’ll tell you what she does. She stands there looking at it, mouth open, eyes wide and head empty, and then dives back to wash the kitchen floor, just to feel safe again.

In a different sort of relationship, one I observed in others and dream-wove from novels and movies, this woman would be given free rein to investigate, to research new roads, and, most importantly, encouraged gently to find her own wings, to grow new confidence as just herself in a new context – that of the big wide world. If that encouragement is not proffered, and if it matters as much as I think it does, then she will hold to what she knows.

I know about monkey mind. That chatter inside a head that always works to undermine walking out a dream. I have worked hard to quiet that voice, and still do, for it is not the truth. To imagine another life, without stepping into it, is just that. Dreaming. I found my way, by writing my story and setting it free in the big wide world. You might say it was written in the hope for understanding, for empathy. You might say I hoped it would bring a flash of remorse and a new beginning. And it might do all of these. It has already brought me a new self-confidence because to have a well-known and respected publisher take up your book, you must be able to write, and in these times of excellent writers, doubly so. It has also taught me that feeling sorry for myself and doing nothing to change my situation is, well, pathetic, at best.

In those times of finding just one reason to stay, I discovered other ones, hiding in my attic. In any relationship, there are at least two people, each with a very different perspective on life and ideas on how to live it. Bring into each mix, parental baggage, school history, sibling rivalry and so on and then dress this damaged person in cowboy boots, or high heels and call it an adult. Then shove it out into a world of high expectations, judgements, parameters, boundaries, social constraints and no mappage, no DIY manual on the subject, but only other opinions formed by those who came before, each one lumbering along under the weight of their own ‘stuff’.

I believe I have just found a new definition for Chaos.

Living now, each day as it comes, I learn something new. Something new about me, about my marriage, my choices, my life thus far. I still find reasons to keep walking, keep looking around, keep my heart soft and my stride strong and purposeful. I have bad days, black dreams, bouts of self-pity and I can still make the house shake with a powerful door slam, but these are just a part of the whole. What I love is a challenge and life is always thus. I find only momentary delight in winning an argument if my opponent just backs down, remaining certain still of his own belief. I find there is little (if any at all) point in going over who said what and when and in what tone of voice. I find no future in paying the slightest attention to either of us in a grumpy mood. I am learning that perspective is king, and that grace is his queen.

At the end, whenever that may be, I will reflect on my choices, made by me, for me, and be content to know, not that I got it right, but that I got it at all.

January 22, 2014 by judyfairbairns

Island Blog 122 Follow your heart

I have done this all my life, wherever and whenever possible, and it isn’t always either. In situations where boundaries and expectations are set by a higher authority, I may not be able to go with my heart on every point, although there is room enough in each situation for me to choose my attitude. Attitude, however, shows itself in my outer behaviour, whereas my heart is deeply interior, and sometimes they argue. It’s an internal dialogue that can be unsettling, especially if I show a good attitude and plan murder.

So, if a disagreement betwen heart and attitude causes me indigestion, then I must work on what?…….not my attitude, for that may be learned behaviour, or just me being an ostrich, and is not good for my health. I can ‘copy’ my idea of a good attitude and bring it into the mix easily, if my acting skills are well honed, but it won’t do me any good and, after all, it is only me with whom I am primarily concerned. So what must I work on then? Of course, my heart. According to old wisdoms, to be found in the good book and all other good books, what is in my heart will ‘out’, whether I allow such an outing, or not, at a conscious level. We always know when someone is not being congruent, in sync with the essence of themselves. It is as clear as day and as silent as snow.

In life decisions there is often a third player in this game. It’s a three horse race and the third horse is called money. I once had a fascinating conversation with a wise man (not a member of the Magi, but wise, nonetheless) who asked me what decision I would make if money was removed from the dilemma. Oh goodness! I said, immediately knowing the right direction to take. A few seconds ago, I had been caught in a web of possibles, fixed and trapped by their sticky tendrils, sure there was no way out, and, in a flash, I could see my way ahead. I have employed this process ever since and it is surprising how often I need it, for money has many guises. For example, I might employ someone whose influence in my business is destructive to some degree. I might, for a long time, have been either avoiding this issue, or pretending it would go away without having to lose them, which I don’t really want to do as they are good at their job, very good, and if I lose them, I may lose……..money! I may even have explained my dilemma to others, which of course is what I will do in order to hear affirmation of the clever way I talk about the situation, without really mentioning the real problem, perhaps unsure of bringing anything as airy fairy as my heart into the conversation. All I have to do is hear from someone how brilliant this person is and how the business thrives thanks to his or her skills and work ethic. But I know more than that someone does, and if I speak it out, I will have to pull my own head out of the sand and face the music, which I absolutely don’t want to do. But, it niggles at me, night and day and I know I am being evasive and weak. And then another busy day comes along and I can forget it for a while, until I remember it all over again in the middle of the night, or whilst waiting for the kettle to boil, and there it is again nipping at the edges of my mind, and it will go on doing so until I take action.

These life lessons are a wondrous thing. It seems to me that there is a force always pushing us towards our best, towards inner peace, because the only way to find and keep that inner peace is to listen to what our hearts tell us. And hearts don’t need money, or cashflow, or a succesful business. Nor does it need to be better than another heart, nor top dog, nor cushioned against a stock market crash. It doesn’t ask for savings accounts or good investments, unless of course, the investment is of the kind you cannot see or limit or define.

So, full circle I have come. If I want to feel at peace with whatever life throws my way, the good and the bad, I must always seek cousel from my own heart. What is it I really feel about this dilemma? What is it I really want to do, or say to change it? If I have worked on opening up the highway to my heart, and kept that highway open and flowing, then my heart will speak clearly to me in a language I understand and then I can turn that decision into action. However well-versed I am in the world of literature or science, business or art, I am still just me, one person, one soul wanting to do and to be my very best.

I must begin with my heart. Begin, continue and end with it. After all, it is the only thing that keeps me alive.

August 1, 2013 by judyfairbairns

Island Blog 87 Dancing on the Edge

Today I am dancing.

Yesterday my almost new microwave stopped waving back and I was momentarily arrested in my dance moves. Things should work, I said to myself, however cheap they might be, and this little machine was cheap. But, if something is created, and packaged and marketed, it should make no difference at all how much or how little it costs me. You get what you pay for was a comment from someone and I thought about that a bit, and then found my retort.

Piffle.

If I, in good faith, agree to a contract, which is what I do when I purchase a thing from another person or company or whatever…. inside that contract, written or not written is a promise. If I find a bargain, for want of a better word and buy it, am I risking disaster because it IS a bargain? I don’t think so.

Anyway, I contacted the seller who was extremely apologetic and who has already organised a replacement. So, they didn’t expect it to fail, this little, cheap microwave, now did they? And nor did I.

Moving on from things, to people………

In every area of my life, I make contracts with other people. It may be that I agreed to sell raffle tickets for the local agricultural show, or that I said I would pop in this week. I might have a pheasant called Robin who expects me to throw him grain of a morning, or a cousin who needs to hear my voice as she faces illness and fear. I can’t be everywhere at once, but I can be somewhere and I can organise myself quite easily to complete my contracts if I take my eyes off myself and point them out into the world.

I have said, in the past, I don’t have time. Now I wouldn’t allow those words out of my mouth, because it is nonsense. We all have the same 24 hours in a day. What I am really saying there is that I am too self-absorbed to take stock and reorganise myself.

When I was young, I danced every Saturday at a local dance school. Ballet, Modern, Character, Ballroom. I gained certificates, although heaven knows where they are now. It doesn’t matter. I know they once existed and that, apart from the bits I didn’t like, I loved to dance. As I moved through my life, my footwork got a bit rusty, but what I realised is that I can still dance in other ways. I can dance through a Saturday changeover, or when baking a cake, or when talking to a seller about a faulty microwave. Instead of dragging myself along, I can rise on my mental toes and hear the drumbeat of my heart as I move through the ordinary. Once I begin, my own voice lightens up, my laugh begins to rise and sparkle, and my eyes see only good things. And, as we all know, Good is always brighter and stronger than Bad.

Once I have practised this a bit, feeling, possibly, a tad foolish at first, I will find it more and more natural, until one day I find myself dancing on the edge of ordinariness with a wild music playing in my heart. Still feeding Robin the pheasant, still baking cakes, still making a call, or selling raffle tickets, but there is a difference and it is nothing to do with circumstances, and everything to do with the dance in me.

Years ago I had a dream that I would walk by a Waterstone’s window and see my book presented there. I hadn’t written a single word, nor chosen a story. Today that dream is in my hands. Today is the launch of the paperback of Island Wife, my story which will now be sold in big shops and small shops, ferries and visitor centres, both here and abroad, and you know the best thing about all of it?

That through reading my story, someone else may catch a glimpse of themself, and be inspired to put on their own dancing shoes.

February 15, 2013 by judyfairbairns

Island Blog 31 – Valentine’s Day!

A day longed for by many, fizzing with champagne and flowers and hopes and promises, and one shrugged off by others, usually those in stoutly sensible lace-ups and crackly anoraks.

‘A load of romantic nonsense!’ they say, indicating, with a chuck of their square chin, that such an unrealistic, time-consuming and pocket-emptying affair should remain ‘over there somewhere’ and dare to move no closer.

Their wives think differently, of course. They have grown weary of being realistic over the years and might rather appreciate the odd attempt, however odd, at an indication that this man with whom they have walked through most of their lives, does, in fact, realise they are a fully paid up member of the female species, and that, beneath that crackly and efficient exterior, there beats a soft, gentle and loyal heart.

Although this heart feels, most of the time, like a rather unattractive pulsation of tubed-up offal, it could glow again, with the smallest gift, the tiniest whisper of proffered affection, and I don’t mean an emaciated clutch of terminally ill carnations bought from the local garage and dumped on the kitchen table.

‘We don’t do things like that.’ they say, these men as if it was a good thing and one ‘we’, at a certain point, grow out of, along with wetting the bed and playing conkers.

I ask them ‘Why not?’ which is always my favourite question when someone says they don’t do this or that, because, in the main, they have absolutely no idea or have quite forgotten why, having ‘not done’ that thing for a very long time. Then they pull back a little, in case whatever I am showing signs of might be catching, and, at the same time, their sensible wives pull forward as if hoping that it is.

We do celebrate Valentine’s Day, still, after over 40 years. I am not saying I have felt much like it at times, nor I imagine has he, but one of us at least has not allowed romance to starve to death over time, and I am glad of it, because what we have not lost is the fun in a marriage, and, to be honest, if there isn’t fun then it is just a life sentence.

However, fun does not appear by magic, it is a delicate plant that needs daily attention. Not bothering is so much easier. We women will always rise ourselves up from any ashes that come our way, but we can only do so much rising once the rust sets in. As we watch others being bought fresh flowers or taken out to dinner, or being told how wonderful/pretty/clever they are, we know we want the same. Our problem is that we have forgotten how to ask for it.