Get Grit Girl

Childhood memories of time spent side by side with my mother, or Mam as she’s affectionately known to me, are warm, tender, exclusive. I was an only child until I was almost 10 years old; so I feel I had privileged time with both my parents to that end, where particularly Mam and I could bond and share special times together. I adored nothing more in the evenings, than lying with my head on her lap, where she’d faithfully stroke my hair, rub my ears, soothe my back. There was nowhere else I ever wanted to be.

Mam was an exceptional cook. We were raised – my brother and I – on home-made meals, hand sewn clothing and a spotlessly thoughtful house. Roast dinners on a Sunday. Apple pie, jam tarts, victoria sponge. Stew, casserole, liver once a month for goodness. Birthday parties were memorable; with my earliest memory being of pulling wheelies on my tricycle in our backyard, with a full house of guests as back drop to my third birthday. My fourth birthday involved a showdown with my cousin, over who would get the last piece of Mam’s lemon cheesecake. My favourite birthday party of all was my eighth; Mam painstakingly plaited my hair the night before, so that I could have the most beautifully wild gypsy hair as part of my fancy dress outfit for my party the next day. I can see the venue, the table, the birthday cake. All in all my Mam was kind and attentive and dedicated.

As I entered my teenage years, she felt my teenage angst intensely and throughout was there to bolster my flailing self confidence. She set me up for sure with all the tools I would ever need to make it in an adult world. Life provides some harsh lessons growing up for sure. Painful as it is, we have to leave home, even if that, to begin with, is only to get a part-time job for a few pennies of pocket money each month. Childhood is cocooning, comforting. Still, despite our best efforts to hold onto these blissful feelings forever, at some point the spell has to be broken; the bubble burst; and life has to be faced with all the determination and grit we can muster. I can only ever thank my mother for all she has taught me. Without her I could never have swallowed down my fear, my trepidation. It was a truth I had to learn; and there she was right by my side (even if I wasn’t always the easiest teenager to have to teach). Are any of us?

HEAD DOWN AND FOCUS

Aged eighteen, I got the most wonderful opportunity to travel to the other side of the world. It seemed like a great idea to begin with; that is until the truth of the matter dawned on me – I could only venture to Patagonia in Argentina, as part of a group trip, if I raised sponsorship first to cover my part of the tour: £1500, during the early nineties, seemed like an awfully large sum of money to find. I think I flippantly agreed to the task at hand, yet had no concept whatsoever of the mammoth challenge ahead. Soon enough, I’d managed to raise a few pounds, from asking family and friends to support me; but here we were, facing a severe drought, in terms of moneys raised. It was time to get serious. Either that or I wasn’t going anywhere.

In all honesty, at that time, if it had been down to me, I would’ve packed it in after a week of fundraising. It was a slog, to say the least. This was where Mam truly came into her own. Planning. Organising. Fiercely tackling. Potential sponsors, no matter how big or small, were confronted (respectfully of course) head on. Lists. Accountability. Discipline. Get those letters out. Follow up on those phone calls. Chase those potential avenues. There were doors to be opened and they weren’t about to open themselves.

I was exhausted. I’d mentally thrown in the towel. Teenage me wanted an easy life of course. Sure, the adventure sounded glamorous, yet I could’ve left the chance, quite happily, to others. Not for my Mam though! She had higher expectations of her daughter. You’ll only regret this if you don’t do it she cajoled. She ushered. She motivated and at times had to push. It was just what I needed. It was a lesson in getting your head down and focusing, respectfully, on the task, the requirements, at hand.

Sometimes life is uncomfortable. It is easier to seek comfort, to settle for the average, that already known. All of us could choose that. Not under this watch it wasn’t; and for this I can never express adequately, just how grateful I am for the encouragement. My adventure across Patagonia proved to be one of my most memorable, and proudest achievements. Without Mam, I would never have done it.

GET OUT OF YOUR HEAD

At times you have to stop thinking so much. It’s the story of my life and I often hear her imparting those wise words, time and time again. My Mam, knowing that my tendency to ruminate would be my biggest challenge in life, had me sussed from the get go. The whirlwind within my mind, ever thickening, becoming a quagmire of emotion and turmoil, has scuppered plans at times and even in recent years has proved an obstacle that I had to conquer. Not always easy to see the wood for the trees; and this is how it has been at certain points. Even recognising the pattern, during the worst of the overwhelm, hasn’t been enough and sometimes those wisely spoken words have gotten swept up in detail, in repetition, in regret.

Don’t get me wrong, the raw depth of thought can be both a blessing as well as a curse; and this is a trade-off I am more than happy to make. Only reflection upon the most exquisite experiences, with the accompanying myriad of emotions, can feed my creative work; but at a certain point, I have to recognise enough, knowing when to take time out of that all-consuming intensity. And this is where the wisest words my mother had for me, come into their own. I respect there is graciousness in grounding, in taking focus outside the mind and placing it resignedly into that which presents itself in the here and now, by the touch of a hand, the rhythm of doing. Less thinking, more doing. There’s a beauty that comes from ritual; that which plays out as an exercise in pure mindfulness – focus on the senses of touch, sight, smell, taste, sound. You can never appreciate this gift more than in the throes of abstract torture, presented in the form of self-pity.

It’s a skill I have to nurture. A tool for everyday challenges. Learning as much as I can about flowing through emotion; letting that pain go. Recognise it for what it is. Respect a memory. Cherish a moment captured in time. Yet value the belief that your history does not define you; observe, learn, move through.

MINDFUL HEART

At the age of 23, I chose to face a bitterly painful break-up head on. Despite genuine love, my life was headed in a different direction and for that I had to choose to cut ties. The ending was excruciating, seemingly impossible; yet it was a decision that I knew had to be made and I suppose I’d learnt to understand that at times decisions made, have to overrule the sentimental heart, if the mind knows them to be made with your ultimate truth as overarching context.

Although I knew in my head that the time had come, the break-up was messy. Clarity kept becoming obscured by moments of confusion, of doubt. Even so, Mam as ever, stayed by my side. Never telling me what to do or how to feel, she allowed the evolution to play out, as time promised it would. Gently reassuring, she awaited each stage of the process. Ready for the next phase and never wallowing with me in my heartbreak.

The message was clear – it hurts yes, but you have to dig deep. She understood pain; knew the heart rarely escaped a well-lived life without an adornment of scarring. With love comes pain. With decisions comes the trade-off. With evolution comes an unspoken wisdom; that which leaves your pride understanding it can face any challenge it needs to, face on. After all, isn’t the most profound lesson we learn as we become adults, that to experience life in all it’s brutal glory, is to develop an understanding that there will be peaks and troughs; highs and lows; ecstasy and devastation. By only knowing the pits of disillusionment, can we hope to recognise the exquisite reward of those best choices we’ve chosen to make for ourselves.

Unselfishly this mother knew that life demands grit. This may be the ultimate lesson of all.

Childhood may have been full of comfort and warmth; but this wouldn’t have been all I needed going into adulthood. The love was always there, yet there were life lessons I had to learn. Despite a mother’s natural instinct to wrap a child in cotton wool, protect them, shield them away from the harsh truth of the world at large, Mam swallowed down the pain she surely felt, and instead focused upon the reality I was facing ahead. Never shying away from some ugly realities. Always stoic, true, my sounding board.

She sat by my side during the most excruciating heartbreak. I ran to her when my own child was hurt. Always her. My rock – my wonderfully Boss Mother.

Thank you Mam xxx

Originally written for the 'Boss Mom' challenge 2021. ©