I think a lot of people see gender as something malleable. That I put on a dress and act like a woman, so one day I could choose to act like a man again.
It might be traditional, but it’s certainly not about empowering women. And neither, by any stretch of the imagination is the Miss World competition which puts impossible ideals of beauty on a pedestal notwithstanding the charitable acts of its contestants.
When I’ve said this in the past, there has always been a follow up question. ‘So you, who believe in honesty… do you lie to your children? Do you expose them to the harsh realities of life?’
I would like to tell them about the wonderful man who gave to the poor. I would like to show them the legend of the Yule Lads from Iceland and get excited at how they have 13 Santas, not just one. I would like to explain how Coca Cola pulled off the biggest marketing marvel of all time and popularized him in red as opposed to blue.
My thumbs are hurting and my past me is whispering in my ear. She’s saying to me, watch out, danger is coming. Rejection is coming. Conflict is coming.
But although I drifted aimlessly on the open seas, buffeted by the storms I conjured myself from my grief, I also found that had the tools to fashion an oar.
My way, would be natural I’d decided (with not a little smirk of superiority). A water birth, maybe with a kick of gas and air to get me laughing like Uncle Benny in Lethal Weapon.
At what point do you define ‘being in a relationship’? Is it more than one date? Is it when you decide to be exclusive? Is it when you label each other boyfriend/girlfriend?
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We respond with compassion to each others’ emotions. So when we open as emotionally vulnerable, we unlock the ability to communicate compassionately.
Those films which make you cry tap into your deepest longings. To be loved, to be the rescued child, to be the winner. We’ve all of us gone through trauma.
If there’s one thing abusive parents have in common, it’s an inability to control their stress levels. Don’t be that parent.
You’ve felt it your entire life, that there’s something wrong with the world. You don’t know what it is, but its there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.
No matter how much organic produce you buy or exciting names you invent for vegetables, there are some things your child will not eat… although this long list is cut in half if you drown them in ketchup.
I have a son and a daughter (with a man who is as far removed from being an asshole as it is possible to be). If either of them were ever caught up in a situation where they were the perpetrator or the victim of such a situation, I don’t know how I would contain my vitriol …or my guilt. Because in both positions, my children would be operating out of a place of low self-esteem. One who needed to feed their ego by taking power to control and manipulate. One who felt they were worth very little and that this was the only relationship they deserved.
My grandmother was the essence of respectability, sometimes sharp tongued and very much cultured. And to insiders – who knows? For I am not one of them.