Commemoration day

The Cambridge sky drawer strikes again

Today would have been my first day back at work after the holiday, the holiday that for many reasons, mostly health but not financial, fortunately didn't happen. It's also the holiday I am mourning as it had been part of my life for almost two years; we'd been planning it ever since we went to Costa Rica to visit my family last time. It's difficult not to think about where we’d have been each day if the holiday had gone ahead, but everyone was thinking the same, what would they have been doing if the restrictions weren’t in place. Plus, even if the borders weren't closed the day before we were due to leave, the holiday would have been so different, spent in lockdown with restaurants shut, places closed and beaches forbidden, but at least we would have been together.

Starling on Ditton Meadows

I have been reminded of it constantly, by us undoing all the bookings, trying to get our money back, in the big pile of things we were going to take out with us, in my niece's recent birthday celebrated virtually rather than in person. It's also in the small things, every time I look at my medications, contact lenses and toiletries I had stockpiled to make sure I had enough, all fortunate now, as well as the haircut I had just before we were due to fly. All have come in useful now we're in lockdown.

Blossom on our Bramley apple tree in our back garden

However I'm owning this grief and the world is grieving due to tragic bereavement, but also the loss of not being to spend birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, Mother's Day and Easter together, the loss of being able to do what we want, when we want. My grief just happens to be more specific, which actually helps having something to focus it on. The holiday grief I'm experiencing is mostly though in the loss of having something to look forward to. Now everything is uncertain. I'm uncertain when I will see my family again in person, when I can hand over the stack of presents, but also when all this is going to end. Everyone's in the same boat I know, but that knowledge doesn't help.

A heron hunting on the River Cam

So in the interest of having something to look forward to, I have made plans to commemorate the things that will no longer happen, it will give the grief some closure. For Easter, I rewatched the film Peter Rabbit as we cannot see the sequel yet now. For my birthday, I won't watch Black Widow in the cinema now, instead I will rent the recent film of Emma and watch it at home. When Eurovision, the Wimbledon final, the Olympics and Glastonbury (not that I got tickets) were supposed to happen, I will watch programmes to celebrate them; I have the 2012 London Olympics DVD and I'll watch the triumphant opening ceremony again, our last great national event. I also have the 2008 Wimbledon final between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal on DVD, so I'll watch that too; I can't say rewatch as I missed some of it; I was on holiday and we had to go out for dinner, but the match was still going, so we went to the restaurant and they kindly let me eat while watching it in the bar: as I remember it my family joined me for the end of the match with their desserts.

The bluebells we planted

My anxiety disorder thrives on uncertainty, so I need things to look forward, to hang onto, so all this will help for now, it takes me to July at least. I am also writing notes for a blog post about my experiences of this time living with an anxiety disorder, but in the past tense, which gives me hope. On a day-to-day basis, I have my daily nature/Pokemon/exercise walk, my beautiful back garden with its blossoming apple trees and numerous birds, and my birthday bluebells, if we can keep them alive that long! Because this will end, it's the not knowing that's the hardest part. All the photos in this post were taken by me over the Easter bank holiday weekend.

The sky drawer's Easter message + = love

The Truth About Birthdays

You should be happy on your birthday, that's what everyone tells you, it's what the cards tell you in any case. Just like you should be merry at Christmas. It's true, there is more opportunity to be happy when it's your birthday, with the presents, food, family and friends. But all the reasons why are designed to make me anxious; the expectation when you unwrap a gift, enforced activities and being the centre of attention are too much pressure. There's also the food. I have an uneasy relationship with food; I had an eating disorder when I was a teenager and I am a picky eater, which makes menu decisions a lot easier! Luckily, this year, we had a takeaway at home as a treat, instead of going to a restaurant.

My favourite Beatrix Potter character in figurine form

No, birthdays are bittersweet. You think about who's not there to share it with you. My birthday is the same as my Dad's Mum who I don't remember, because I haven't seen her since I was one, her choice; she died relatively recently. My Mum's Mum, my beloved Granny, used to give me a Beatrix Potter figure every birthday. My family have continued the tradition. So I always think of those two ladies on my birthday every year. You think about birthdays past and what you've done in the last year, similar to New Year's. Obviously, you're happy you've made it through one more year in this world, but what have you done with it? Last year, I ticked something off my bucket list, visiting the Bronte's home: Haworth Parsonage. But I'm struggling to think of anything else of note since.

Haworth Parsonage

My nature is not inclined towards contentment. I'm always comparing myself to others, with myself. Contentment is lasting, happiness is momentary. For my birthday this year, it has been about living vicariously through others. I spent the actual day with my niece, taking her over the park and happiness was in witnessing hers, when she said "weeeeee" every time she went down the slide, somehow saying it differently each time. Happiness was in seeing how much she's developed since last I saw her. And happiness was in her sitting on my lap as I read her one of my favourite books at her age and her listening attentively. Children have a way of teaching you to live in the moment, just for a moment.

The next day, I watched a long-awaited film at the cinema, the third best escape after the ultimate reading a book and the second best watching a favourite TV series. It's been 19 films coming and I knew it would be bittersweet. Inside Out taught me that the brightest happiness comes hand-in-hand with sadness.

Me ready for the cinema: Loki dress, (Guardians of the) Galaxy leggings and Hulk socks

On the last day of my birthday long weekend, on the bank holiday, we carried on a growing tradition over the past few years of visiting a bluebell wood for my birthday. Bluebells are my favourite flower and they come out around my birthday, so it's perfect timing. Last year, it was Fountains Abbey. The first year, it was Waresley Wood. This year's wood wasn't the best, but it was where it hit me, why I love bluebells so much. It's not because bluebells, true English bluebells, not the Spanish literal usurpers, are actually purple; all blue flowers are actually purple to my eyes. It's not because they're melancholy, they way they hang down, unlike the Spanish whose bells are better balanced on either side. It's because they require solidity, security and stability; they only grow in older established woodland amidst long-lasting potentially ancient trees. I empathise with them as in order to grow, develop and bloom, I also need time, safety and strong foundations. I'm a real tree-hugger as it's a great way to feel grounded, essential for anyone with anxiety issues. Happiness for me is being part of nature. I like to feel something that was there before me and will be there after me. That's a good thing to remember on a birthday.

Bluebells