Alien Adventures

Impulse Buys

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Sun, 04 Sep 2016 19:35:00 +0000

Reasons to Celebrate

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Sun, 04 Sep 2016 19:35:00 +0000

Don't judge me but .....

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Fri, 02 Sep 2016 18:22:00 +0000

We tend to judge others by their behaviour, and ourselves by our intentions.

September is for ........

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Thu, 01 Sep 2016 18:08:00 +0000

"[That] old September feeling . . . of summer passing, vacation nearly done, obligations gathering, books and football in the air . . . Another fall, another turned page: there was something of jubilee in that annual autumnal beginning, as if last year’s mistakes and failures had been wiped clean by summer." — Wallace Stegner

For as long as I can remember, September has signified new beginnings. As a child it was the start of the school year, new teachers, new uniform, and new friends. The uncertainty of change, the challenge of new ventures. As a adult, it still signifies change, clearing fallen leaves, planting bulbs, and preparing for the longer, cooler days of Autumn and Winter. This year, September is also about starting a new project and the dreams, aspirations and hopes that accompany it. But, September is also a time for remembering the past, taking stock and acknowledging what has been achieved.

#30Lists September 2016

If You Go Out In Our Yard Today

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Fri, 26 Aug 2016 18:44:00 +0000

In every gardener there is a child who believes in The Seed Fairy. ~Robert Brault

Memories of Childhood - Rose Petal Perfume

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Thu, 25 Aug 2016 21:15:00 +0000

I'm not quite sure what made me think that I could produce perfume from a few rose petals, a jar and some water, but I was sadly deluded. All that I ended up with was a foul smelling brown sludge.

Small and Meaningful

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Sun, 21 Aug 2016 20:43:00 +0000

I've spent some time today sorting out my hard drive and deleting files that I no longer needed. Whilst doing so, I came across some old photos and scrapbook layouts. They really brought home to me how little the things that matter to me have changed. Or for that matter, the things that make me anxious and the things I'm trying to improve. Beginning to think I might be stuck in my very own Groundhog Day.

A dream is a wish your heart makes

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Sun, 21 Aug 2016 19:05:00 +0000

Sometimes, the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.

Passion Under Assault - Since When Did Actually Giving A Damn Become A Crime

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Sun, 21 Aug 2016 16:45:00 +0000

“Above all, be true to yourself, and if you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it.” ~Hardy D. Jackson

The synonyms of "passion" are anger, fervour, fury, rage, resentment, temper, zeal, obsession, and indignation. Little wonder then that when someone in authority tells me that they can hear my passion whilst disagreeing with me and putting barriers in my way, I recognise it as a put down.

The Lost Art of Caring

As a nation, we have become obsessed with not caring, with not trying to make things better, with conforming and keeping our heads down. Above all it seems to stem from an aversion to risk; to a fear of opening ourselves up because we might fail or be rejected; a belief that it's the responsibility of someone else. Then there's the curse of "best practice", an unconventional or untested approach is quickly shot down. It's not for you to innovate, know your place and do what's expected. Listen to the experts. And so, the "I couldn't care less" attitude has become ingrained in our psyche.

It seems that most of the advice I'm given is absolutely nothing to do with what I want, but instead avoiding everything I don't want. I have a problem with anxiety. I really don't need any advice on how to avoid the unpleasant, I'm quite capable of talking myself out of something. What I do need is somebody to encourage me to face the discomfort and uncertainty and accompany me on my journey.

Badge of Dishonour

Caring, actually giving a damn, has become the ultimate badge of dishonour. Showing genuine concern, having a passion for a cause, being innovative, demonstrating emotion are some of the worse things we can do. It's viewed as the ultimate disgrace, irrational behaviour, and ultimately it's the road to failure, or so society would have you believe. But every aspect of my life is about caring, about having a passion for what I do, and for actually trying to help. Everything I have achieved in life is because I genuinely do care. Life shouldn't be an emotionless experience; it shouldn't be constrained by the experiences or expectations of others.

Integrity

One of the things that I learned early in life is that what I need to flourish is the antithesis of what the majority of people require. I need to live life according to my values and ethics, and I need to connect with like minded people. The only way that I am going to get what I need and want out of life is to have the drive to aim for it, to speak out and be heard. Society isn't going to cater to my needs or concerns because I'm not typical, but what I want can peacefully coexist along side what the majority require. And, because of my experiences, I actually do care about other people who are walking an unusual path or are being pressured to conform to a reality that doesn't fit them. I have to be authentic, because actually caring is the whole essence of who I am. The passion that is viewed as my badge of dishonour is actually the thing that drives me and enables me to get up and face each day. Passion is the thing that gets me past each disappointment, each embarassment, each anxiety ridden moment.

Passion

So, here's my thought for the day. Passion isn't a crime. Actually caring about others and giving a damn determines who you are, and what you get out of life. No one person has all the answers and nobody knows better than you, what's required in your life. Toss apathy aside, develop your passions and actually live the life that you want.

A Bill of Assertive Rights

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Sun, 14 Aug 2016 07:29:00 +0000

"Staying silent is like a slow growing cancer to the soul and a trait of a true coward. There is nothing intelligent about not standing up for yourself. You may not win every battle. However, everyone will at least know you stood up for - YOU." Shannon L. Alder

Yesterday I sat down with a friend and my son, and spewed a whole sack load of rubbish that I'd been carrying around with me. I'd reached a tipping point, full of self blame, frustration and unbearable anxiety, I could no longer keep it contained. The final straw came when my son received a cryptic email from somebody who was making accusations and criticising me based on one person's side of the story, and without checking the other side.

Andrea McLean likened this to having a lot in common with her bin:

" I’ve got one of those fancy bins. It’s stainless steel, tall and thin, with a black click-top lid. It’s a catwalk model of a bin; aloof, cold and attractive enough to stand on its own, rather than hidden under the sink. I can open it with my elbow when my hands are full of stuff, whereupon it makes a reassuring cluh-clink and rises with slow confidence, like a butler opening a door and enquiring: “You rang?”

I use it countless times a day, and I take it for granted as it stands in my kitchen, taking all the rubbish I throw at it, swallowing it all up, allowing me to slam it shut and walk away without a backwards glance. I don’t think about it, it’s just there – until it starts to stink.

Then the black lid can’t quite shut unless I push down on all the stuff inside, and with that final load, the one that can’t be squashed and compacted, the stinky bin demands to be noticed. It demands change, and I have to pull out the heavy, over-stuffed bag inside and get rid of it.

That’s when the stink hits me; the fetid smell of discarded daily detritus, stuff that is now starting to reek…"

Rubbish is thrown at us every day, most people throw it out immediately. I absorb it, allow it to decompose, and eat away at me. I believe it, I replay it again and again, and berate myself for my mistakes. Inevitably after years or months it can no longer be compressed and I do what I should have done at the very start and I get rid of it.

But, here's the rub, my friend and son, led me down the path of self realisation and opened up my eyes to the possibility that I had done nothing wrong. They made me realise that it is perfectly acceptable to express doubts about a working relationship, to have a different ideology that makes compatibility difficult, and that it's not attacking someone to say that we are coming at the same problem from different perspectives, that are both valid, but not in harmony. That sometimes people manipulate situations to their own ends, twisting your words and actions until you come to believe the story they are constructing, and then using that constructed reality to their advantage. The assertiveness bill of rights has helped to reinforce that understanding. Slowly, my anxiety started to lessen. My heart stopped beating out of my chest and throat. I stopped shaking and rocking. For the first time in days I could speak without starting to cry. The dizziness and haze through which I was seeing and hearing started to recede.

I'm not sure if relationships with institutions can be abusive, but I've realised that a large part of my life has been shaped by a drip feed of coercive control from them and their partners.It has been insidious and elusive, and I believe so part of the system and culture that everybody has learnt not to acknowledge it. Psychological abuse is used to control and subjugate and that's how it feels being part of these relationships. The logical thing would be to walk, but as in many abusive relationships, you are left isolated,shunned and with nothing when you finally sever the ties.

I'm left with an incredible sadness. Abuse is a secret that goes on behind closed doors, it is rarely witnessed. Learned behaviours, feelings of entitlement and privilege are hard to change. The greater power and communication reach of those in power will, to paraphrase Malcom X, have you hating the people who are being oppressed and loving the people who are doing the oppressing.

Oppression - Dignity, Resilience and Strength in the Face of Poverty

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Wed, 10 Aug 2016 23:41:00 +0000

I've been thinking a lot recently about oppression and what it means. For many people it conjures up images of persecution, tyranny and abuse, but the manifestations of oppression can be more subtle, but every bit as damaging. My son gave me a quote the other day that resonated with me.

"Oppression consists, not only of brute force and resource inequality, but of the hierarchy of speech: The ability of those in power to decide whose voices are heard, whose experiences matter, whose concerns or goals are serious and politic, and whose are merely personal and should be ignored."

I come from a working class background. My father was a meat porter in the London docks, physically carrying meat around on his back. My mother variously worked as a secretarial temp or as a shoe shop assistant. When I was four we moved out of London to a newly built housing estate. We acquired a bathroom and an inside toilet, a house that didn't require buckets to collect the rain that dripped from the roof, and a garden. My father started shift work in a factory and my mother worked alternate shifts to him. She also had a cleaning job and did homework sewing soft toys. Our holidays were spent going pea picking with my mother to earn the money that was needed for our school uniforms. At 13, I got a part time job working in a coffee bar, and had to hand over some of the money I earned to my parents. At 16, I also started working taking guided tours around Hinchingbrooke House, the ex-home of the Earl of Sandwich, and the base of the 6th form I attended. Rather than being paid, I received service points which enabled me to attend social functions at the school free of charge. Money was still short, I was the eldest of five children and we went without many of the things that my friends took for granted. My upbringing instilled in me my values, that kindness is more important than being right; that we are all individuals and that individuality is important; that money is the easiest way to access resources not a end in its own right nor the only legal way to acquire what you want.

Despite this I had many positive memories of my childhood. One thing that a lack of money enforces on communities is inventiveness and collaboration. I remember the solidarity, sharing of resources and skills between households, gardening and cooking for the elderly, neighbours helping out with baby sitting and sharing allotment and garden produce. Clothes were handed down to younger children in the street, sharing family celebrations and neighbourly support during hard times.

I grew up realising that poverty isn't just a circumstance to be endured; it's something that permeates every feeling, action, relationship and moment of the day. It leads to strong friendships, mutual aid and support; it builds resilience and the ability to withstand the pressures imposed by others; it encourages strategies, skills and personal qualities that encompass empathy, hope, self reliance and the possibility of joy and happiness from simple non material things.

But, I also learnt at an early age that the education system extolled middle class values and aspirations presenting them as the norm and the values of the poor as deficient and inferior. My friends came from middle class families; my best friend's father was a Wing Commander in the RAF, another was a Chartered Accountant. I was keenly aware that their family lives were very different from mine. I felt judged. I felt lacking. Despite my mother being a member of Mensa, she was dismissed by my teachers and often talked down to. In hindsight, I admire her willingness to stand up to them and confront some of the injustices that they imposed on my sister and brother.

At the age of 18 my world fell apart. In the space of 18 months my father, brother and grandmother all died. It was a time when I fully realised how much strength exists in poor communities. Everyone pulled together to help us and to provide us with support and normality. I saw my mother channel her grief into community activism and working to support others. I learnt about solidarity, and how to respect the working class community that I grew up in. I saw the dignity, resilience and strength that is present in poor, marginalised communities.I learnt to be proud of my background instead of ashamed. I learnt what was important to me, and that it wasn't material possessions, money or status.

Much has changed since those days in the late 1970s. There is far more state intervention into things that would once have been considered private family matters. I personally feel that there is too much imposition on people, an expectation by professionals that their values and aspirations are shared by those they work with. Living in poverty isn't just about needing more money, it's about opportunities and chances, it's about being treated as a human being and being listened to. It's about not being made to feel that you are to blame for your life problems, it's about recognition that structural barriers need to be removed rather than blaming individuals' deficits. It's about accepting that the aspirations, values and desires of people in marginalised communities are not the same as those from middle class backgrounds. It's about accepting and valuing diversity, strengths and abilities and not just focusing on personal deficiencies.

I've never really thought of myself as political, but I've come to the realisation that I am. For the past 7 years my time and energies have been channeled into community activism. I have come to appreciate that professionals and agencies often unwittingly oppress and deminish the very people they try to help, that they fail to address the important aspects of peoples' lives, and instead dismiss them with arrogance and disdane. Instead of helping and liberating marginalised communities, they further oppress them. There is a lot of talk locally about developing stronger communities, but any groups strong enough to suggest an unorthodox or community initiated approach are quickly suppressed. There is an abuse of power by those in authority and an unquestioning assumption that they know best. I have found my interactions with them bruising, humiliating and degrading. I often feel like I am being spoken to like a child. I'm currently feeling the effects; I'm totally exhausted, frustrated and despairing.

There needs to be a fundamental change. Professionals and agencies need to start listening, and stop imposing, engaging, empowering and evolving communities and individuals. Instead they need to witness the realities of the lives of people living in deprived communities, walk alongside them and transmit their messages, their desires, their values and dreams back to those who make decisions and wield power. They need to stop strategising on changing those people and instead focus on the structural barriers which they face. They need to become allies in marginalised peoples' endeavours to change things for themselves. Instead of speaking to representative groups appointed by themselves, agencies and professionals need to listen directly to the people involved. As an alternative to patholigising the poor and intervention strategies, there needs to be a greater emphasis on accompaniment, a greater acknowledgement of their strengths and skills, and an end to comparing their aspirations and experiences to middle class norms. Poor peoples' voices have been muted for too long, and far too much space is given to discourses on the poor by the non-poor. It's time for change.

Understanding Us

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 21:05:00 +0000

Today, it's our 19th Wedding Anniversary and yet it only seems like yesterday that I met Eric rather than the 23 years it's been. My life has changed immeasurably during the time we've been together and definitely for the better. Eric has been the support that I never had before. He's encouraged me to do things that I wouldn't have had the courage to face without him. He's definitely helped me to become the person I am today rather than the little mouse I was when he met me.

I don't think I ever expected to meet anyone or get married and even when I met Eric that thought was not in my mind. I'm not a great romantic. I never had pin ups on the wall as a teenager, but I guess everyone needs their other half, somebody who complements them and makes them complete. Eric makes me complete, together we can, and have, faced anything.

I don't say it often enough. In fact, I don't say it at all, but Eric knows that's part of being Autistic, but I do love him with all my heart. Without him I would be nothing. I am so grateful for all the years that I've had with him and for all that we've been through and shared together and yes, that does include the awful times as well because they have made me who I am.

I make my own decisions

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 21:28:00 +0000

Alleyway Clear Up

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 22:27:00 +0000

Friday I spent some time helping to clear some grafitti from the fences that run along side the alley way by the local school. Grafitti is such an emotive subject, Understandably, the older residents find it threatening and what ever way you look at it, it could be a Mona Lisa painted on the fence, it would still be wrong because it's private property. But, the view was expressed by a few that the grafitti that was being removed actually looked better than the water downed brown paint that was used to try and cover it. I think if we'd used a black paint it would have been a big improvement, but I'm sure that the residents would have appreciated the efforts to tidy things up.

Year of the Tiger

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Sat, 13 Feb 2010 21:16:00 +0000

A day early, but Eric and I went into Solihull today to watch the Chinese New Year celebrations,
mainly because Gavin was taking some of the children from Starz! along to perform, but also because we've said that we will start going out at weekends and do something together. Maybe today wasn't the best day to start as it was freezing!

I sometimes think that our holiday sto America have spoilt us for British entertainment, everything we watch here seems to be rather insignificant compared to the spectacular performances that the Americans produced but the activities wwere at least colourful.

The event was compered by BRMB wwho provided background music from their bus which also provided a base for some of the Acts. Starz! performed some of their tried and tested routines and the children clearly enjoyed themselves.

Changing Times

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 22:35:00 +0000

All over England old buildings are being given new leases of life. The same is true for the old Huntingdon County Hospital which is now residential flats. I remember my visits as a child to the opthalmic department and my attempts to put the lion in the cage. I still remeber the anxiety I would feel as I sat and waited for my appointment which seemed to take for ever.

I remember the visits to A&E when I broke three bones in my foot and the time I spent as an inpatient when I had an operation for a squint- something which would be done as a day patient today. None of these things exactly pleasant memories. But, over Christmas I visited the building again because my mother is now living in one of the flats. It is scarcely recognisable as the hospital it once was, but for me there was always this uneasy feeling all the time I was there, not dissimilar, although less intense, than the anxiety I used to feel on my visits to the hospital as a child. Eric however, loved the building and the conversion, even suggested that he might like to live there. I think he realised my horror at such a suggestion as it wasn't pursued.

Every Child Matters - Unless They're Autistic

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 22:12:00 +0000

We had another review meeting for Ashleigh today. What a waste of time that was. The school saw his exam dispensations as a problem, so I politely pointed out to them that it was their problem, not ours and Ashleigh's statement required them to arrange for them to be taken at home. So, the next suggestion was that perhaps he would not have completed enough work to be prepared enough to sit the AS Level and rather than raise his anxieties perhaps we should ease off the pressure. Well, maybe the fact that instead of starting to teach him in September doing nothing at all until December has something to do with that particular difficulty and still nothing in place for Business Studies.

Then the next little blinder, having wasted four years messing around and failing to provide the education he's entitled to they're washing their hands of him in June and it's over to a further education college, but not sure if there's anything suitable, but it was suggested that we could provide him with correspondence courses.

I'm so grateful to have Ashleigh. He is, and always has been the perfect son, but the system that I have to fight exhausts me. Sometimes I get so tired of fighting, but everyone who knows anything about High Functioning Autism agrees it's the only way to try and get your child's needs anywhere near met.

It's All Down To Me

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 20:19:00 +0000

When things are difficult it's sometimes easiest to focus on the things that are important in life. For me one of the important things in life is getting back to basics and away from the world we've created with all its social constraints and rules which I will never understand. It was pointed out to me today, that some of the things that I've written could have been unwise to put in the public domain. Somebody has been searching the internet for information on me and using it to try and stop what I'm trying to achieve. I've therefore takken the decision to mkae this blog private. I need to write to sort my thoughts out. I need to be able to write unfettered by having to worry about whether what I'm writing is politically correct or could be used by somebody against me.

I'm really proud of myself for the way that I handled today. I'm really proud of myself for accepting that that I've done nothing wrong. I know that ric thinks that I should keep this blog on public display, but today's events have made me feel exposed and vulnerable and for the time being, at least, my decision is the right one.

Losing Track of Time

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 19:49:00 +0000

Was Albert Einstein Autistic?

Everything is a question of view point. You can either have a positive outlook on life or a negative view. You can be a glass half full person or a glass half empty person. I tend to be a glass half full person and I tend not to dwell for too long on the negative aspects of life. I guess it's because of this that I struggle with what are termed the deficits of Autism because I see some of them as strengths. One of the criteria for diagnosis is an encompassing preoccupation which is abnormal in its intensity or focus. If you look at some of the famous people who it's claimed are on the spectrum, you will see that it is the ability to focus on something that has enabled them to make it to the top - Bill Gates for instance.

I do not claim to have reached the top of any field, but I do see my abiliy to get totally absorbed in my interests as a strength, True I sometimes forget time, sometimes forget to eat, sometimes forget that anyone else exists, but I survive and so do those around me. My focus enables me to achieve what others think of as impossible. It also provides me with a safe haven where I'm interested and satisfying my need for intellectual stimulation.

My focus shifts over time from one project to another. I have spent hours researching my family history , but that has dwindled in recent years. Far from seeing my obsessive nature as a deficit, I see it as an asset. True there's always the potential for it to work against me, but as long as I focus it in positive ways, it's something that I will always be grateful for.

Guilty Pleasures - Things I Love but Would be Better off Without

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Sat, 16 Jan 2010 19:02:00 +0000

MY TOP 5 GUILTY PLEASURES

Growing up in the 1960s and 70s fizzy drinks were a treat rather than something that was available daily. I was a very fussy child with drinks. I rarely drunk at all and never drunk anything hot. Squashes were something I would drink occasionally but really wasn't keen on. The majority of the time I used to drink plain tap water. That was until I reached my 20s and developed an addiction to coke. I think in truth I was probably more addicted to the caffeine than the coke, but I would guzzle my way through bottles of it. These days coke is something I rarely drink, being diabetic it really isn't recommended and I don't like the sugar free versions. But, a small bottle of coke is the perfect hypo remedy and something I can indulge in without guilt for medicinal purposes when my blood sugars are low.

Everything in moderation, but what happens when moderation goes out of the window? I readily admit that I could get addicted to fast food, partly because I'm much to busy immersing myself in activities which I enjoy to cook, but also because I could quite easily get addicted to the taste of fast food. My favourite is a Whopper and chips, probably because the nearest Burger King is a few miles away so it's not the readiest option and so tends to be something of a treat. Throw in a vanilla milkshake and you have a meal I enjoy but definitely shouldn't consume.

When I first watched QVC 15 or so years ago I wondered why on earth anybody would watch it, but it's ccoma along way since and unfortunately I've developed a bit of addiction for having it on in the room as I surf the internet or lie in bed relaxing. I suppose because I generally don't like going out shopping and also don't like using the phone, shopping via the internet and QVC offers an ideal solution to my shopping dilema. But, it's also quite compulsive and it's all too easy to buy without the effort of having to walk or drive to trhe shops and walk around.

Love it or Hate it. Eric hates it and I love it. Marmite is what I crave when I'm feeling down, which probably isn't a problem in itself, but the toast I have it on is. Being diabetic, I really should restrict the carbohydrates I eat and one slice of toast and marmite is never enough.

My final guilty pleasure is reading children's books. I've never grown up, all my favourite books are children's books - The Worst Witch, The Borrowers, The Narnia Chronicles, Alice in Wonderland. Maybe it's revisiting my childhood that makes me feel safe, takes away the responsibility of having to make decisions and being faced with choices that I struggle to make, but I love snuggling down in bed and reading the books I loved as a child.

Technological Progress

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 17:24:00 +0000

One of my enduring memories of childhood is my Grandparents' house. I'm not quite sure why I remember the homes of both sets of grandparents better than my own, but I do.

My maternal Grandmother was an insulin dependent diabetic. From an early age I was taught to recognise the signs of hypoglycemia, the confusion, the sweating and the pallor and to encourage my Grandmother to have some glucose. I also remember the smell of meths that she used to ensure her skin was clean prior to injecting and how it always lingered in the house. I remember the glass syringes and the vials of insulin and the long thick needles taht she would inject with.

I suppose because I was brought up watching somebody inject daily and living a normal life, it never bothered me when I was diagnosed with Diabetes and had to start using insulin. I recall being slightly bemused that the GP seemed reluctant to tell me that I would have to inject as though it was something that I would be loath to do. But, it never bothered me and I still see no real problem with the 4 to 5 injections I have to take a day.

Technology has changed significantly since the days when my Grandmother would have to eat at preset times to feed the insulin. Modern insulins allow you to inject for what you eat and when you eat. The delivery method is so much easier too and I can honestly say that it's not a problem to do it quickly and without pain. So today, I grateful for the advances in technolgy and modern medicine.

Remember the Gift of Ordinary

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 09:06:00 +0000

Eric and I love going on holiday and travelling America. We love seeing spectacular vistas and animals in the wild. We love eating out and enjoying different food to that we eat at home. But, sometimes you can have too much of a good thing and you yearn for the ordinary. Having the ordinary enables you to appreciate something different. Having the luxuries every day, enables you to appreciate the ordinary.

Ever since I've known him Eric has yearned for the simple foods whilst we're away. Sausage beans and mash; egg and chips covered in vinegar and sauce and even the bowl of porridge which he moans about ordinarily when it's dished up at home. But, today it's me who's yearning for the ordinary. I'm strangely emotional. I feel the same way that I did when Ashleigh was diagnosed. I'm no different today than I was yesterday, but I feel as though I've said good bye to being ordinary. Not that I could ever have been described as ordinary, but I've finally accepted that no matter how hard I might try to fit in, I never will. Most of me is happy about that. It's a release from having to try so hard all the time to conform, but part of me is sad that I know for certain that I will always have a battle on my hands if I want to take part in life outside my front door.

But today I have alos been given a gift of the ordinary. For the first time in many, many months, maybe ever, I've been given the freedom to accept that I can be different without worrying about. I've been giving the gift of knowing that my "ordinary" day may be different from everyone else's, but it's ordinary for me and that's ok, I don't have to conform. I've been given the gift of knowing that I'm not irrational or awkward, I'm just different from the norm and that my ordinary pleasures will be very different from others. Today, I have been given the gift of not worrying about unintentionally upsetting others, it's their problem not mine.

So today I'm grateful for my ordinary life, for the things I enjoy doing every day, for the things that I value and I'm grateful for being different and having a unique perspective on life.

Grateful for Understanding

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 16:16:00 +0000

Grateful for Warmth

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 16:11:00 +0000

Achievement

noreply@blogger.com (Inspiration Alley) — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 21:45:00 +0000

"Achievement seems to be connected with action. Successful men and women keep moving. They make mistakes, but they don't quit."
Conrad Hilton

One of my aims for 2010 is to reflect each day on my achievements. I never realised when I decided to do this, quite how hard I would find this. Today is the first time I've tried and the seemingly inconsequential elements of my day hardly equate to achievements. At least so I thought, until I sat and thought more carefully about the individual elements. True I didn't do anything life shatteringly momentous, but then success isn't always about breaking new ground. Sometimes, it's about the small steps that set us on the path to where we want to be, and today I took those small steps. There were several things in the day which a few weeks ago would have had me panicing, but today, not only did I remain calm, I remained in control. For me that's a real achievement. I also tackled two jobs that I hate....ironing and changing the bed. That's an achievement. I laughed with Eric - something I haven't done in months. So, I guess that although I haven't moved mountains today, I have made some small steps towards my goals and that's success.