I am grateful for date night. Not because it was a wonderful romantic why don’t we do this more often kind of night. But because it reminded me how often we forget to talk. Or listen to each other. Really listen .
thirty five
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Tag Archives: lianne cawood
a plea
Life is not a fairy tale. The good guy doesn’t always win. Prince Charming doesn’t really exist. No-one lives forever. I know now that I can’t rely on other’s for my happiness. Life and love is not conditional. It’s not up to B to make me happy, it’s up to me. This is part of my why. My 365 grateful posts. To force myself to acknowledge and truly acknowledge how much I have. And not only material things. I wish you would too. There is so much beauty around us and in us if we only care to look. And stop believing the fairy tales. And our old stories. Our old baggage. Life is not picture book perfect. Life is not what could have been. Life is not what should be. Life is as it should be. If only we could accept, acknowledge, let go and move forward. And never look back. Living in the past messes up the now. Just look at what you have right now. Just look. Right this very moment, give thanks for it, be grateful for it, knowing it too will pass. Knowing it won’t last forever. And then it will be too late. Don’t waste what you have wishing for something you never had. See what you have. Please. And let that be enough. You are so blessed. You really are. You are so loved. You have so much more than many. So much more. You just need to open your eyes. And be grateful.
thirty four
I am grateful for this little secret haven today, a magic toadstool and a moment when little girls could be little girls. A moment when the world was perfect. Or I could pretend it was.
friends
I like my friends. A lot. In fact, I love them. And often for very different reasons. But I don’t always like everything about them. Just like I know they don’t like everything about me. Some get me more than others, some judge me more than others, some are amused by me more than others. And vice versa. Some are very very different to me, and I love that because we teach each other so much. Some are very like me and that’s often more challenging, but delightfully affirming too. Some have very different values, attitudes and spiritual beliefs to me. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends or get each other. I get this. Completely. I wish everyone did.
thirty three
My little Jem is struggling to sleep. It annoyed me for a moment that B had to sleep elsewhere, but then I realised how lucky I was. Because I got to snuggle up with her. And I know there aren’t too many more of those precious moments left. It is always so beautiful to see her sleep and to watch her wake up. I am grateful I get to do that. I am grateful she still gets comfort from being in mommy and daddy’s bed. I know I always did.
addict
Approval Addiction is the title of a book my friend gave me to read. She wasn’t trying to tell me something. It’s something we recognise in each other. Seems like such a harsh word, addiction. Am I an addict? I like approval. We all do, if we’re honest. But am I that dependent. That needy. The more I read the more I recognised myself. And I never got past the first two chapters. Because I stopped. Because I’m not. I am not that dependent. Not anymore. I talk a lot about respect and honesty but my other big thing is fear. Fear is the thing. It strangles us. It makes us make the wrong choices or none at all. Books like this exist because of our fear. The world is as it is because of fear. It is what feeds my need for approval. The fear of not being liked, the fear of not being taken seriously, the fear of offending, the fear of being anonymous, the fear of failure, the fear of being ignored, the fear of being alone, the fear of illness, the fear of being destitute. The fear of death. Of late I’ve pissed a lot of people off because I don’t care so much anymore. I can’t pretend anymore so you’ll like me. I like me. And I’m truly not afraid. Maybe the book is not so relevant to me anymore. So, I will not be ending this post with my name is Lianne Cawood and I am an approval addict. Not anymore.
thirty two
I am grateful for this pile of dirty washing. And for the muddle we all found ourselves in this morning. A muddle because there was too much laughter, debate, advice giving, loving, hurrying, even singing, happening. Grateful because it meant B was home.
thirty one
Today I was relieved to hear my dad had had a successful prostrate op. Third time lucky. And a good night in ICU. I am so grateful to him for looking after his health and fitness all these years. I wish I could be there. I wish I could hug him. But spending a quiet moment, having a flat white with him, on a bench on his favourite river, was the best I could do. So I am grateful for the memory of him here, because it felt like he was right there with me.
issue
Another friend, a very supportive friend, commented on how difficult it was for her to share. And how uncomfortable her family would be it if she spoke about them the way I do mine. I respect that. I respect her. She always makes me think.To be honest, Jem has an issue with my posts. Her issue is that I always post about Kate. Actually Kate has an issue too. Hers is that one of her friends saw my drama post and said gee, your mum swears. A lot. And you all do know of course despite my potty mouth, neither of my kids swear. Or probably because of it. So uncool mom. I think I have always been able to share. But I also know I used to censor myself. I used to only share the bits that would paint a pretty picture. And that’s where I’m not alone. But life isn’t very pretty all the time. But it is a journey. And for me it’s been a journey of finding my self respect. Of earning my self respect. Respect is everything to me. I respect you, and that’s why I am happy to share. To be honest. About everything. I know it bothers some of you and I know some of you just aren’t interested. And that’s all good. If only one of you gets some comfort, some courage in my daily (or not ) sharing about my issues, issues we are all confronted with, and some that I pray none of you will be, then I am happy. And I’m especially happy when that one is me.
me
I had my breast reconstruction on valentine’s day 2008. So, it’s different for me now. Today 4 years ago I was given me back. Well, a slightly different version of me. A forever physically altered version of me. The me they could sort of bring back. A patched up me. The other old me is gone forever. And I don’t mean that in a sad way. I loved that me then but I love this me now. It’s taken me a while to realise that. That was then and this is now. But then, I didn’t get it. I honestly thought if I got my breast back, I would be whole again. I could wipe my hands on my jeans, that’s that and it would all be gone. If I could have two grateful posts today, and no I can’t because those are my rules, this would be my second. I am grateful to my wonderful plastic surgeon, Dr Gereth Edwards, who knew me better than I knew myself and who didn’t put up with my crap. The world is poorer for him no longer practising due to an unexpected stroke. And especially because his priority was not people like me, but people who couldn’t pay, who had no hope. He was a saint. He was a young saint. He didn’t say what I wanted to hear. He was so brutally honest, I hated him at first. But he made sure I understood I would never ever look like that me again. He knew I simply couldn’t comprehend the enormity of it all. Of my disease. I fought so hard and he never let me win. And then I surrendered to him. And here I am. Scarred, but me. A new improved me, who loves her new patched together breasts. If I didn’t think some of you might be offended, and my family mortified I would have shared a pic of my man made breast and my recreated nipple from my tummy, with you. My previous breasts have been bared on all the best beaches in the world, on a chesterfield with some of my agency colleagues (did I mention I can’t resisit a dare) and breastfed my precious children. I miss them. I shared them. I took them for granted. But these new ones, I am even more proud to share. And eternally grateful to Dr Edwards for. Mostly because I know now, I am so much more than the physical me.
grace and dignity 