Sharing my thoughts, all of them

I can hardly contain my excitement, joy, enthusiasm and the feeling of being totally blessed ... How wonderful it is to share this experience!


I was only thinking this morning that my blog seemed to be filled of deep, almost traumatic, thoughts and experiences ... and I wondered why this was so. To recall my early diary writing days, as a young girl of 13, is to remember writing as an outlet of expressing all my fears and dark thoughts. These needed to be expelled from my heart and mind in order to survive, but I couldn't share them with real people.

This pattern continued into my 20s, the expulsion of bad thoughts and experiences into words kept securely in nondescript, bound books of paper. Occasionally I would write to share the absolute highs of my life, such as the meeting of and conversations with my future husband. But, more often than not, my diary entries were full of questions and observations that filled my head as I tried desperately to understand the world around me.

Now in my 30s, I have come to accept and embrace myself, as well as the world around me. There is no need to hide myself anymore. I know I am not perfect, yet I have realised this doesn't make me a bad person. It simply makes me human. There is also no need for me to change others. "To live and let live" is certainly a motto I have incorporated into my life. This recent experience of acceptance has been the most wonderful and liberating of my life, by far. And now I find this changes how and why I write. No longer do I need to expel thoughts; instead I am choosing to share my thoughts, both the good and bad.

But, I am getting side-tracked ... joy, enthusiasm, excitement ... these are the emotions running through my head, heart and body at the moment. I have just secured some part-time work as a Teacher's Assistant in a local Primary School. I still can't believe my luck! Today I went there to meet the School Registrar and Principal to arrange days on which to volunteer my time, and as a result have walked out with a day of paid work too.

The sheer joy of having an opportunity to work with children is an overwhelming one ... they are the most amazing creatures. Each of them is unique and intriguing, and I enjoy the challenge of getting to know them and introducing them to the world of structured learning. The first year of school is all about discovering rules of behaviour, trusting and understanding others outside of your familiar environment, as well as learning about yourself.

What an amazing journey it is ... I can hardly wait!

A girl with many hats ...

There are many hats in my closet, although you can't see them.

Some are thread-bare from over-use, whilst others are nearly brand new.

The range is quite extensive for someone my age -- hard hats to floppy hats, hats from Africa to Europe, and a variety of coloured hats. A green hat for the garden, a red hat to stand out in the crowd, a yellow hat for positivity, a white hat for thoughtfulness, and blue hats for those hard-to-deal-with days. As each new day arrives, I instinctively reach for the appropriate hat ... or hats.

Whilst basking in the early morning light in my bathroom the other day I began thinking about one hat in particular. Recently I had removed it from its storage place at the back of my closet ... it having been there for 10 years meant it needed quite a bit of dusting off. However, I wore it, with pride, for one whole year (amongst others, because you are not limited to wearing one invisible hat!). But finally, last November, I discarded it.

So what to do with this hat now?

At this stage in my life I feel like I am cleansing; cleansing parts of my life which are too complicated, too much of a burden, or unsupportive of my chosen direction. Where did this hat fit in? Well, it certainly had been tried and tested. And it looked good on me. But, somehow, it did not quite fit ...

And at that moment, I realised I could not keep it. It no longer belonged in my closet. So I closed my eyes and then shredded it. Just like that! I expected to feel a little sadness, but I didn't. In fact, I felt ... relieved.


Amazingly enough, two days after the shredding episode, I was asked about this hat and whether I would wear it again. "No", I answered, "I have decided not to wear it ever again." "Never?" "Never", I replied with confidence.

Little does he know there are two more hats I am adding to my collection!

*grin*

Making a difference

Upon arriving home to Australia in 2002 (after an absence of a year or so), my body, mind and soul were exhausted and in pain. A kind person said to me "you've done your bit to help others, now leave it to others to do their bit" ... Although I knew I could not have continued physically, I had not been emotionally or mentally ready to go!


The previous month I had received Valium injections on a daily basis just to complete my work contract in East Africa. The medication helped take the edge off the searing pain that lurked within my abdomen, both day and night. So quickly had it become part of my morning routine that I had mentally apportioned 5 minutes for the whole process to be completed and could resume normal organisational activities almost as soon as the needle was withdrawn from my body. I have no idea how others around me viewed this procedure, especially the two people sent over to replace me!

As for the pain that continues to live in my heart, I am not so sure how to cure that! The feeling remains that my personal contribution to this part of the world is incomplete. Somehow I feel drawn to the people, to the country and to fulfill a need to come back and further contribute to their well-being. Although I do remember the first reaction to me walking about in the village ... the wide-eyed howl of a small child and his frenzied scamper to hide behind his mother's skirt. It was only later that I found out the villagers told their children a mzungu (white person) would take them away if they behaved badly! Ha ha, the poor kid. Yet, towards the end of my stay in the village I could count on the company of at least 20 local kids when I went on my afternoon jog.

Well, today I feel blessed. Blessed at the moment when an advert surreptitiously appeared on my computer screen with the caption Volunteer Abroad ... I didn't hesitate more than a few seconds before clicking on the words. Bingo! A program where you can offer your time, enthusiasm (and skills) to effect positive change in a community, including Tanzania. My mind has been at full tilt ever since formulating a plan to get myself and my family involved. It has been a burst of excitement in my day and there is an overwhelming feeling in my heart that this could be the sort of opportunity to ease the pain.

Making a difference sounds so inviting ... "as simple as sharing love and affection with orphans, playing team-building sports with at-risk youth, sharing stories and photos with the elderly in a community, or practicing conversational English with adults seeking new career opportunities." Yes, this is what I have been looking for and to include my family would be perfect.

Growing up

Funny thing about kids ... you miss them when they're not there!

I have just walked in the door from "school pick-up" with two school bags, empty lunch boxes and hats, but not my two girls. Can a few months really make much of a difference? Well, obviously it does because both of them have happily gone off on different "play-dates" ... leaving me to my own devices (and thoughts) this afternoon. Apparently GRADE ONE really is about growing up, in more ways than one.

Coming back to an empty house is quite a funny feeling. What does one do? There are no stories to listen to, no milkshakes to prepare, no stories to read or colouring in to do. The weird thing is that you are free and yet feel under pressure to utilise this small, but precious, time wisely!

Ha ha, it was only 6 years ago that I didn't have a problem knowing what to do in my time off ... in fact, my whole life revolved around me and my wants and desires. How very strange to think of me back then. I didn't realise what a selfish life I was leading, and although I don't believe I was totally self-absorbed it seems such a selfish way of living all the same.

I have often heard people say they want to bring children into the world to make themselves feel whole or complete ... I am not sure whether I understand this reasoning, but I do know that my children have brought great joy, triumph, heart-ache, frustration and immense love into my life. I feel grateful that I am blessed with the opportunity to care and support my two girls.

May this experience be yet another reminder as to how wonderful they both are and how much to cherish every moment I have with them. Sending you ❤❤❤ and kisses beautiful ones ...

At Her Feet

I am sitting contentedly on the brown carpet that adorns her small, but comfortable, living room. She is rocking back and forth gently on her orange, brown and beige striped rocker. There is the faint sound of voices coming the television, which she had quickly turned down when I approached with a kiss and soft caress for her cheek. The familiar clicking sounds of her knitting needles scraping together as she rocks adds to my contentment. We are both enjoying the pleasure of sharing this moment in time.

I am recalling this pleasurable moment today and reflect that it could have been any number of moments within the past 30 years or more. Even when I reached the age of adulthood and had children of my own, I never failed to sit on the floor in front of her chair. I guess it embodied our relationship - I had her up high on a pedestal and she had me, loving and adoring her as if I was an innocent child.

We talked about many different things throughout our years together as Grandmother and Granddaughter. Our relationship matured as I did. But I never grew tired of listening to the stories of her childhood, her days during the second world war, her courtship to my Grandfather and the fun she had in her 'racing green' Austin-Healy. She was no wallflower; my Grandmother worked from the age of 17 and started her career as an apprentice Draftsman/Tracer at Hawker Aircraft in Kent, England. To say she was ambitious would be a sizeable understatement. My interpretation of her ambitions were for her to succeed at the goals she set herself to the best of her ability as well as at a level that equalled men and those of a higher 'class'. Yes, she was very much an English-woman who had been exposed to the pre-conceptions of the limited capability of working class people and women, in particular.

Her ambitions and achievements never failed to impress those who took an interest in her stories. I always relished in the opportunity to 'get her talking', which didn't require much other than the time to listen. Her stories empowered me and often propelled me to set and achieve my own goals. Although I can still recall her words today, something is missing. I think it is her unwavering belief in me ... a belief I must now give to myself in her absence. Perhaps it should be a goal for me this year? Self-belief. I guess I should stop sitting at her feet and try to follow in her footsteps ...

The Roberts Family (from 1800s)

Although incomplete, the names, places and existence of my ancestors is something I need to write down. It shows me the path along which I travelled, arriving from the ancient route of the Roberts family. My Father's family. The family I do not know.

I find solace in researching and recording those before me. It soothes my anguish, an anguish that resides in my soul. Where did I come from? There has been nobody able to answer this question ... and it has remained unanswered for 36 years.

Through my research I can find answers to my life-long questions. Who were my ancestors? Where did they come from? How did they live? Small fragments of their lives flash up on my computer screen ... a solitary, hand-written page of the 1851 England and Wales Census details the names of people, street of residence, number of children, their employment and places of birth.

Sometimes it is overwhelming, sometimes it is not enough.




Samuel Roberts 8ROB (1803 - 1868)
B: 1803 Liverpool, Lancashire England
R: 1841 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
Button Street (nr Rainford Square), Liverpool
TAILOR
R: 1851 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
17 & 19 Button Street, Liverpool
MANAGER OF TEMPERANCE COFFEE HOUSE
R: 1861 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
7 Button Street, Liverpool
MANAGER OF TEMPERANCE HOTEL
D: 1868 Liverpool, Lancashire, England

M Lydia 8??? (1802 - 1871)
B: 1802 Liverpool, Lancashire England
R: 1841 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
Button Street (nr Rainford Square), Liverpool
R: 1851 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
17 & 19 Button Street, Temperance Coffee House, Liverpool
R: 1861 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
7 Button Street, Temperance Hotel, Liverpool
D: 1871 West Derby, Liverpool, Lancashire

Margaret Roberts 9ROB1 (1819 - )
B: 1819 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
M: 1838 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
R: 1851 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
17 & 19 Button Street, Temperance Coffee House, Liverpool
R: 1861 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
16 Button Street, Liverpool
D:

M Patrick Burns 9BUR
B:
M: 1838 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
D:

Mary Ann Burns 10BUR1 (1846 - )
B: 1846 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
R: 1851 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
17 & 19 Button Street, Temperance Coffee House, Liverpool
SCHOLAR
D:

Lydia Burns 10BUR2 (1848 - )
B: 1848 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
R: 1851 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
17 & 19 Button Street, Temperance Coffee House, Liverpool
D:

Catharine Roberts 9ROB2 (1821 - )
B: 1821 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
D:

Samuel Roberts 9ROB3 (1823 - 1823)
B: 1823 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
D: 1823 Liverpool, Lancashire, England

Samuel Roberts 9ROB4 (1824 - 1886)
B: 1824 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
R: 1841 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
Button Street, Liverpool
M: 1846 Wirral, Cheshire, England
R: 1851 Liverpool, Lancashire, England
17 & 19 Button Street, Temperance Coffee House, Liverpool
TAILOR
R: 1861
D:

Elizabeth Roberts 9ROB5 (1826 - )

Lydia Roberts 9ROB6 (1826 - )

Catherine Roberts 9ROB7 (1829 - 1829)

Mary Ann Roberts 9ROB8 (1829 - )

Ellen Lydia 9ROB9 (1833 - 1897)

John Roberts 9ROB10 (1834 - )

Catherine Roberts 9ROB11 (1836 - )

Lydia Roberts 9ROB12 (1837 - )

Catherine Roberts 9ROB13 (1839 - )

Lydia Roberts 9ROB14 (1843 - )

David Roberts 9ROB15 (1844 - )