Live Alone (Almost) And (Try To) Like It.

Well, it has been quite the fortnight. Hard to believe that this time two weeks ago I was planning on how to juggle homeschooling and some level of normal life which would include working from home as much as possible. Like everyone else we know,  life has come to a shuddering halt and we are Living Alone (As A Family) and (Trying To) Like It.

I have to be honest, I have really struggled with the giant shift that has taken place. I haven’t been on top of any areas of my life, including the writing of my blog which is such a good outlet for me. I haven’t been a stellar homeschooler. I have cleared out and organised very few cupboards. The house is a mess. There is lego EVERYWHERE, even in our tiny en suite. I have been snappier than usual and I have not been as Mary Poppinsish as I would like.

I’ve had to learn to let a lot more things go. The children are watching a lot of TV. We don’t have tablets but I’m quite sure if we did they’d be handed over frequently. If they want to spend all day in their pajamas, I’m letting them. Quite frankly, I haven’t had the headspace to deal with any discipline problems. I’m hoping there’s a few happy memories for them, mixed in with the chaos.

The next few days and weeks will be better. I’ve stopped wallowing. I’ve made plans. Today, I put on makeup and a dress and I feel better. I’m going to reread Marjorie once again, because her advice to Take Yourself Firmly In Hand still rings true. We are in this together, and separately, and we will just have to learn, once again, to Live Alone and Like It, and maybe get to love it and learn some valuable lessons.

Pennsylvania

I wasn’t shocked or even surprised by the report on child abuse in the Catholic Church in Pennsylvania. Over two decades of similar reports here in Ireland have resulted in a kind of weary acceptance that this is an organisation which, from the top to the bottom, covers up and facilitates child abuse. It doesn’t care about children, or adults, or anyone really. But the organisation can’t function without people. And I find myself getting angry with the people who not only continue to support the church I left long ago but make excuses, such as saying they want to stay in the church and change it or that there are plenty of ‘good’ priests and nuns and that’s the real church.

I rant in my head and on twitter about this quite a lot. How and why would a ‘good’ priest or nun stay in an organisation like the Catholic Church, knowing what we all now know and knowing that similar reports will yield similar information? What is a ‘good’ priest or nun anyway? Is it one who sticks with an organisation which shows not the slightest disposition towards change and reform? Is it one they can compartmentalise, taking only the nice and positive bits into account and simply ignoring the reports on places like Ferns and Boston? Is it one they’re simply unwilling to leave no matter what because they have decided where their loyalties lie?

I am deeply and profoundly glad me and my husband have been on the same page about religion from the start. I couldn’t imagine being in a relationship where ‘compromising’ on religion meant that the person who wanted to rub a bit of religion into the children was the person who usually ended up getting his or her way. It is very hard to shake off the indoctrination of child and young adulthood, and I am glad every day my children won’t have to deal with that.

Head in the sand time

Seven days to go before we vote on repeal. I’m not sure whether it will be a yes or no result. Sometimes I’m really positive, sometimes I’m resigned to getting back on the horse after May 26th. I’ve had real life encounters with those opposed to repeal and every no badge on a top or sticker on a car still gives me a visceral shock. It’s hard to see visible, voluntary proof that people want to keep things the way they are.

We’ve donated money. We’ve shared stories with friends and family. We’ve been unable to go canvassing, and I hope this isn’t something I’ll deeply regret in the event of a no vote carrying the day, but the headspace required for it isn’t something either of us have right now. We wear our badges and our tops. We thank those on our side for doing the heavy lifting.

I’m mentally exhausted by it all, for many reasons. For my own head and heart I need a break from it. Seven days can be a very, very long time. It can also be a very, very short time. We know this from recent months. I’m taking a break from my obsessive phone checking tonight. I’ve had a hot shower and applied a face pack. I’m going to bed early and I’m not going to look at twitter or facebook or anything else.

My Happiness Depends On Me

One of my very favourite singers is Dolly Parton and one of my very favourite songs of hers is Jolene and one of my very favourite performance of it was when she sang at Glastonbury in 2014. I watched her performance on BBC4, which broadcast the show live, and my husband, who had been a little ambivalent about her before then saw why I’ve been such a fan.

I think it’s one of the saddest songs ever written, and, in a twisted way, one of the most beautiful songs about love for a man I’ve ever heard. Dolly is begging Jolene not to take her man just because she can, and pleads with her that her happiness depends on Jolene’s decision.

I won’t go into the rights and wrongs of leaving one’s happiness in the hands of a decision another woman takes regarding your man, but suffice to say it’s probably not the healthiest message to send to anyone. My happiness depends on me, and whatever I decide to do.

Changing my mindset from expecting those around me to make me happy to realising my own actions and thoughts were what would make me happy – a feeling of being in control instead of hoping other people would deliver happiness to me – has brought me great peace of mind.

I often wonder about Jolene’s happiness. I hope she turned out ok in the end.