Who am I?

imagesIn the past I have been scared to be real but what I’ve discovered is my “real” is ok, its actually quite good when I accept it. I like it, I love it, its funny and weird, it can be a bit wobbly at times but if I go with it then it’s amazing what I can dig out and find.

So this is me bare and honest. A world away from the little girl who was knocked sideways for being real and having a voice. I lost my voice along with my confidence for a long time but I seem to have rediscovered myself and learned to love what I have to offer.

Having 3 young children and a loving husband who supports me in my quirkiness has given me new life. I’m lucky to have experienced what I have whether it be experiencing the lowest ebbs or the beautiful flow of life.

Poetry is not something I thought I could do however after some particularly difficult times I suddenly found it an outlet.  It was an invisible sounding board, my secret splurge of emotions and feelings. Sometimes I cant get it out quick enough, it all has to come out and this my own outing of myself. Sometimes its hard to explain to people how you are feeling.  I like to think I am quite open as a person but until I wrote my poems I realised just how much I was keeping to myself and not being “real”. People don’t necessarily want to listen to the full song, they may be happy to hear the first few beats, that’s enough.  So poetry has helped me deliver this inner life to the outside world.

I hope you like some of what I have found in me.

A few years ago I did a counselling course and in one session we talked about this passage from the Velveteen Rabbit, the most beautiful book I have ever read.

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you – and a stick out handle?”  “REAL isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse – “It’s a thing that happens to you.  When a child loves you for a long, long time – not just to play with – but REALLY loves you, then you become real.”  “Does it hurt?” asked the rabbit.  “Sometimes,” said the skin horse – for he was always truthful “When you are REAL, you don’t mind being hurt.”  “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up” he asked – “or bit by bit?”  “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the skin horse.  –  “You become.  It takes a long time.  That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily – who have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept.  Generally, by the time you are REAL, – most of your hair has been loved off – your eyes drop out – you get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don’t matter at all, because, once you are REAL you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”  “I suppose you are REAL?” said the Rabbit.  And then he wished he had not said it – for he thought the skin horse might be sensitive – But the skin horse only smiled.  “The Boy’s Uncle made me REAL,” he said.  “That was a great many years ago – but once you are REAL you can’t become unreal again.”

Author: Margery Williams (1881-1944),

Here’s to the real me…..


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