tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271182464545007942024-03-29T11:03:01.744+00:00Mimi and Tilly(This blog uses cookies, by continuing to browse the blog you are consenting to the use of cookies.)Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.comBlogger249125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-18045585167283850872020-09-09T14:56:00.004+01:002020-09-11T20:02:23.248+01:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvz3k_fEjR1bwm3yr5d6Sw2SX-2Q2Nju9uIAkC3BDF6V_96ZHtM5G5l-0Xe5BeAgAWXnqB3dc-uPiOxn8APg97-Djp0xGcz6s4iRoyQ-_66lPp8bC3HWJ8K2rU0jPb6Pe1o0Z1lb7Wvc/s2048/PicsArt_05-28-02.13.08.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1162" data-original-width="2048" height="556" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvz3k_fEjR1bwm3yr5d6Sw2SX-2Q2Nju9uIAkC3BDF6V_96ZHtM5G5l-0Xe5BeAgAWXnqB3dc-uPiOxn8APg97-Djp0xGcz6s4iRoyQ-_66lPp8bC3HWJ8K2rU0jPb6Pe1o0Z1lb7Wvc/w976-h556/PicsArt_05-28-02.13.08.jpg" width="976" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Hello. How are you? </div><div><br /></div><div>Long time, no write, huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>I've decided it's time for me to start blogging again. Its been almost four years since my last blog post, and I feel like I've got some stuff to say.</div><div><br /></div><div>To be completely honest, the political landscape of the last four years has had me spitting feathers. Actually, to be fair, I've mostly been spitting swear words. </div><div><br /></div><div>Writing out a long list of expletives and sharing them with you didn't feel like the most productive thing to be sending out into the world, so I hushed my mouth, backed away from my blog and embarked on several years of fuming on Facebook (with an ill-advised segue into the Twittersphere, where I learned very quickly that there are a lot of very angry white men who don't like women sharing their strong opinions. Live it, learn it.)</div><div><br /></div><div>So, life has moved on for all of us and here we all are. </div><div><br /></div><div>Slap bang in the middle of a global pandemic. </div><div><br /></div><div>Who saw that coming (apart from a dearth of farsighted Hollywood film makers intent on scaring the beejesus out of all of us with apocalyptic horror stories, obvs)?</div><div><br /></div><div>Its been eleven years since I first started blogging. ELEVEN YEARS. Sorry for shouting.</div><div><br /></div><div>My blog at that time was about me exploring being creative for a full year to see if that would change my life. </div><div><br /></div><div>(Spoiler: It did.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Over those 11 years, I've grown and changed. I've aged a fair bit. Become a soupcon more angry. A whole lot less bothered by the small stuff. </div><div><br /></div><div>I guess that's what middle age does to us (I still class myself as middle aged even though I need to live to be over a hundred for it to count).</div><div><br /></div><div>If you're reading this, thanks for being here. I appreciate you taking the time to take a look and see what I've got to say after so long.</div><div><br /></div><div>So to kick start things, here's a post I wrote way back in 2018 but didn't send out into the world. I'm not sure why I didn't share it. </div><div><br /></div><div>In light of us all being exhausted by this pandemic, alongside divisive politics, an upcoming election in the US, and the possibility of a no-deal Brexit here in the UK, it might offer something for your weary soul in the midst of all the stresses and strains we're navigating.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sending you love and am glad to be back.</div><div><br /></div><div>Em x</div><div><br /></div><div>Scroll down to read my recently rediscovered post from April 2018. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The 25th October 2017 was the third anniversary of my mum's death. Can you believe that? Three years have passed since that awful week at the hospital, saying goodbye to Mum.</div>
<br />
People have repeatedly said to me that "Time heals",<br />
<br />
It doesn't. People heal because they choose to.<br />
<br />
I know it sounds harsh but it's actually profoundly beautiful that even though we experience the most staggering losses, the deepest of pain, the most awful of tragedies, and our hearts feel broken and life feels devastatingly lonely, we do what we need to do to heal our tender wounds.<br />
<br />
Time doesn't heal our hearts. We do.<br />
<br />
Every single day. People get up, feel the emotional devastation and still feed their children, take care of themselves, love their families, tend to themselves and others. Continue to build a life. Even when they don't want to. Even when everything feels lost. Even when every inch of their heart wants to lie down and give up.<br />
<br />
I don't know a single person who hasn't experienced the deepest of pain. No-one gets out unscathed. Life unfolds and we experience all of it. The hurt, the beauty, the joy, the sadness. Life is made up of contrasts, and to fully experience the light, it seems we must fully understand and experience darkness.<br />
<br />
So, recently, when I had my mum's coats dry-cleaned so that I could proudly and lovingly wear them this winter and feel somehow wrapped in her, I only momentarily worried that I was cleaning her presence out of the very dusty cloth before being able to hand them over to a friend to take to the cleaners. No panic that the cleaners might lose them. No fear of them being in a stranger's hands. Just a feeling of huge love for those coats and wanting to look after them as best I could.<br />
<br />
In that moment I realised I was healing.<br />
<br />
I am not the same person I was.<br />
<br />
The Universe has taught me some things about Life and how to heal a bruised heart in recent years. I thought I might share some of those things with you.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>The Things the Universe Thought it was Important for me to Know</u></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Emma, if wonderful things happen, accept them and let them go. All things pass. Enjoy the wonder of them, soak them up, land in the middle of them and feel all of the joy. Absorb all the colours, taste all the sweetness, touch all the softness of them. Be fully present for all of the loveliness. Then, Emma, let go.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>If terrible and painful things happen, accept them and let go. Don't shy away from the pain. Fighting against the hard things of Life makes them more painful. Experience all of the pain, land in the middle of it and allow yourself to feel all of the hurt. Allow yourself to feel bruised and broken. I know it's hard, try to do it anyway, Emma. Be kind to yourself in the pain, be tender with yourself, respect the depth of your hurt and give yourself everything you need to move through it with love for yourself. Breathe. Rest. Give yourself all the love you have in your heart that you would give another person if you saw them suffering the same pain you're feeling. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Don't diminish the truth of your feelings.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Rage, cry, get angry. It's important to express the truth of your feelings in order to move through them. Denying the pain of your darkest feelings will not make the pain go away, it simply defers the experience. The pain will come out whether you want it to or not. Expressing pain helps to release it. Denying pain keeps you stuck in it. One of the ironic paradoxes of Life, Emma.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Bring kindness and tenderness to everything you experience. In the tense moments of Life it's easy to not understand the true depth of power that lies in the small moments of kindness and tenderness that we give to ourselves and other people. The deepest beauty of Life is to be found in those smallest of moments, where we choose to carefully place that quiet power. Not just for other people, but for ourselves too. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Emma, allow yourself to be present. See, feel, taste and smell all of it. The beauty of Life gives huge joy, the dark stuff of Life gives huge understanding and empathy. Embrace the contrasts fully.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>All people suffer. Everyone is just trying to be happy. As far as possible, live by the words of the theologian Ian Maclaren, who wrote, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle".</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Give nourishment to yourself as much as you can when you are hurting. Try not to feel guilty that the only person you can give to is yourself. It is right and proper to give yourself care and respect when you are wounded and hurting and you need to heal.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Emma, when you are ready, understand that if you want to experience beauty in the world, put beauty into the world. If you want to experience tenderness, be tender with everyone you meet. If you want to be loved, give love away. If you want to be heard and seen, listen, hear and see the truth and reality of those around you. Emma, give away what you most want to keep. Put out into the world the things you most want to experience.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Be sure that when you are saying "Yes" to something/someone , you aren't saying "No" to yourself.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Ask for help.</li>
</ul>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Accept help.</li>
</ul>
</div>
<ul>
<li>Ask for Love.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Allow yourself to soak up the love that flows your way. Try not to tell people you are fine when you're not. Don't feel guilty about being loved, Emma. You don't need to be proud when you're hurting.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Love might not come from the places you expect it to come from. Love flows eternally and may reach you from unexpected sources. Let it land, try not to push it away because you don't want to put people out. Let yourself be loved. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Above and beyond everything else, Emma, be kind and tender with yourself. </li>
</ul>
Over the past year, the beauty of life has come flooding back again. I'm not sad when I wake up. I don't find myself crying unexpectedly at a piece of music or a certain memory. I find myself laughing and snorting my tea in the same way I used to before Mum died. Instead of only feeling the total absence of her, I'm starting to be able to feel my mum around me. In the flowers she used to love. The butter dish she bought for me. The grasses and trees all around me she used to point out to me when I was little and in my pram. The coats of hers I'm able to wear. The new shoes she bought not long before she died and never got to wear, that I get to wear for her this winter instead.<br />
<br />
I miss her, every day, but I'm not brokenhearted any more.<br />
<br />
I think my mum would be so happy about that. She didn't want me to not be OK without her.<br />
<br />
I'm so glad that if she were to knock on my door right now and ask me how I'm doing, I'd be able to say, "It was rough for a while Mum, and I miss you every day, but I'm happy again. I've got so much to tell you."<br />
<br />
There's scar tissue around the wound, but the wound is definitely healing.<br />
<br />
With love for you and your wounds, wherever you are.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">♥ </span> </div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-10571099295028649742016-09-19T20:25:00.001+01:002016-09-21T19:05:53.721+01:00Commitment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I was sitting in the garden recently, on one of the days following writing my last blog post on <a href="http://mimiandtilly.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/on-vulnerability.html" target="_blank">Vulnerability</a>, ironically feeling vulnerable. </div>
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I had written out something that felt profoundly private and not kept it to myself. It felt hard to sit with that knowledge and not delete my blog post. But I drank my hot cuppa out there under the bright sunshine, and committed to leaving my post where it was. Even though I felt the vulnerability, fear and self-doubt rise up in waves, I committed to not silencing myself.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJG-EtDJh6m2j2-unkufhq7r_NdPKB_A0jm038sKkQNG2Gp6YKbdPQsahRM3SDv8QT97TUdohpy5Bicy3hpXeShKHSnMUFmxT9QNnfvHx9HtT2HIgwO1dqPVD6HPvtWEH5XHQz8oJReyU/s1600/topblogpic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJG-EtDJh6m2j2-unkufhq7r_NdPKB_A0jm038sKkQNG2Gp6YKbdPQsahRM3SDv8QT97TUdohpy5Bicy3hpXeShKHSnMUFmxT9QNnfvHx9HtT2HIgwO1dqPVD6HPvtWEH5XHQz8oJReyU/s1600/topblogpic.jpg" /></a></div>
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And I started to think about Commitment.<br />
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What commitment might be. What it might look like. When we need it. How we give it. Who we give it to.<br />
<br />
And what we might be, unwittingly, committed to.<br />
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When I sit down to paint, I am thoroughly intimidated by the white canvas, the blank page, the wide open space of nothingness that I'm hoping to fill.<br />
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Every. Single. Time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKtLVctCRybEFX6-oFlTehqrWEAr40pKhyphenhyphenZh-6ha4GWGBzDoeH5IWKrP_D2urR4JZeLfcaX59EkJ_W5MifOGx-ONrQp2j4JneGs_QIY_AM7eFTxSgYjO0rdVcBDjY_DOx5HAMQmIN2BE/s1600/facebook_1474212111811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKtLVctCRybEFX6-oFlTehqrWEAr40pKhyphenhyphenZh-6ha4GWGBzDoeH5IWKrP_D2urR4JZeLfcaX59EkJ_W5MifOGx-ONrQp2j4JneGs_QIY_AM7eFTxSgYjO0rdVcBDjY_DOx5HAMQmIN2BE/s1600/facebook_1474212111811.jpg" /></a></div>
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I want to turn away. To not take the risk of getting things wrong. To not mess up. I want to step back from the edge (of my desk). No matter how much I paint, this experience of doubt just before I paint, never leaves me.<br />
<br />
For years I was afraid to paint. I had images in my head of how I wanted my paintings to look, but my skills didn't match my imagination. The gap between where I wanted to be and where I was, seemed too painfully large.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjWvytBZSH18okco8fy7fKifnOfGF7rc5DvLcBiuc-a8yVyDoPxy8tfVhGQP56OmPGAcw2QKZvWJ3igdGzFoBkdzUNvAp4s6LJL9bjBS7rPFdvKN0wFLFdCAhcrhenKKLOuR01GAiCQY/s1600/IMG_20160914_142335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjWvytBZSH18okco8fy7fKifnOfGF7rc5DvLcBiuc-a8yVyDoPxy8tfVhGQP56OmPGAcw2QKZvWJ3igdGzFoBkdzUNvAp4s6LJL9bjBS7rPFdvKN0wFLFdCAhcrhenKKLOuR01GAiCQY/s1600/IMG_20160914_142335.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
<span style="text-align: center;">It filled me with disappointment and frustration that I couldn't create what I wanted to create. It hurt to not be able to recreate what my heart was seeing.</span><br />
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I had huge doubts about my abilities.<br />
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Eventually, I reached a place where it hurt more not to try.</div>
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Without even realising it, I had been committed to not failing. And in doing so, had cost myself dearly.</div>
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So, I finally said "Fuck doubt".<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5kHvh0akug-WdMIrCnNo0GZNvO6iQdFazVLsY0BoHvh8LAlRY8KCEBoEiOf26EqRzIcu2OfOet0YLQ7RCRMJghKGrCggesIF6iymXhB4IOjtnLBDui4jB9iBiOFCntQiJ1_bhPn8iA4/s1600/IMG_20160914_142251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5kHvh0akug-WdMIrCnNo0GZNvO6iQdFazVLsY0BoHvh8LAlRY8KCEBoEiOf26EqRzIcu2OfOet0YLQ7RCRMJghKGrCggesIF6iymXhB4IOjtnLBDui4jB9iBiOFCntQiJ1_bhPn8iA4/s1600/IMG_20160914_142251.jpg" /></a></div>
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Each time I sit down to paint, I have to say loud and clear, "Fuck doubt".<br />
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I have to choose what I want to be committed to. Not failing by never trying. Or, trusting.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">There's huge commitment involved in the process of painting.</span></div>
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A commitment to trust myself. <br />
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Before I paint, my head is filled with noise, and self-doubt.<br />
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When I paint, my head becomes silent and my heart takes over. I know it sounds strange but I don't know of any other way to describe it. The worries, fears, niggling thoughts, and constant mind chatter are all silenced and instead I can only hear what my instinct is telling me to do.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhONqZifzej6PhpGS0mIWcAaTxOHs4yGhkw1g1yzESpz27J7ari4OFKgoFhkYAPIxHtTG3V5wuQ99MbE134GqQUrjHBNdXpxHfuuZSIT1m4DTwBP66njqJeExPklix8bkbgyk009UgSvI8/s1600/IMG_20160916_182621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhONqZifzej6PhpGS0mIWcAaTxOHs4yGhkw1g1yzESpz27J7ari4OFKgoFhkYAPIxHtTG3V5wuQ99MbE134GqQUrjHBNdXpxHfuuZSIT1m4DTwBP66njqJeExPklix8bkbgyk009UgSvI8/s1600/IMG_20160916_182621.jpg" /></a></div>
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I trust that instinct completely. It has never let me down. I might be afraid to follow it at times, but I follow it all the same.<br />
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This week during the process of painting a portrait, this instinct told me the eyes, nose, and mouth I had just painstakingly completed weren't right and needed to go. Did I tell you it was a portrait?<br />
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***</div>
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<i>They're not right, Em, they've got to go.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Really?<br />
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<i>Really.</i><br />
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But if I white them out, I won't have much of a portrait left.... What if I can't paint them in again as well as I just did?<br />
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<i>It will be better. Trust me. I promise you. White them out. Get rid of them. Daub gesso all over them. Obliterate them. Go on. Do it. DO IT!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Sh*t. Really?<br />
<br />
<i>Really.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
OK, I'm doing it. Oh. sh*t, I'm doing it.<br />
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***</div>
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For me, the only thing more frightening than a blank canvas, when painting, is making parts of the canvas blank again after I've started filling it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyMB0v4f5lXlXiPbr2k_CHgL3vOD2vT7zy269x1Plp1z-HKAKUAiQSf639H_pm5sOWPDc6b82b3_4ehunk55HJbHvNB5IgENeNox1-vGnU7XIy8T44hwGD2h6_rIxQht5HdYPybMVzWw/s1600/IMG_20160914_142348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyMB0v4f5lXlXiPbr2k_CHgL3vOD2vT7zy269x1Plp1z-HKAKUAiQSf639H_pm5sOWPDc6b82b3_4ehunk55HJbHvNB5IgENeNox1-vGnU7XIy8T44hwGD2h6_rIxQht5HdYPybMVzWw/s1600/IMG_20160914_142348.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
Commitment is a strange thing, isn't it? <br />
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It can be terrifying.<br />
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But in making a commitment, we can find something in ourselves we didn't know we had.<br />
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It felt scary to follow my instinct and paint over the features, to whiten them out. To erase what I'd already done. <br />
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But each time I paint, I'm making a commitment to myself. To follow my heart. To follow my instinct. To trust that quiet but powerful voice inside me that knows what I need to do. That guides me through. That helps me be sure about which way I need to go.<br />
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And each time I commit to listening to that voice, and hearing what it tells me, I get better at painting. Making that commitment helps me find something new within myself, I didn't know was there. Making a commitment to myself moves me beyond doubt into something concrete, known and beautiful.<br />
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I was chatting to someone this week who said that the blank canvas, and painting, are powerful metaphors for life, and I think he is right.<br />
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We may not know how to fill the canvas, whether we have the skills to create what we want to create, or whether we will make a mistake and mess it all up, but when we step to the edge and commit to following our instinct, following the peaceful, powerful voice inside us, we grow.<br />
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Whether that's when we paint, or when we're doing Life.<br />
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With love to you as you step to the edge.<br />
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P.S. This is my latest painting. She's called "Michelle". Mixed-media on watercolour paper. Inspired by the art of <a href="http://www.anniehamman.com/" target="_blank">Annie Hamman</a></div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-65078473763634378952016-06-16T15:02:00.000+01:002016-09-21T19:07:24.290+01:00The Stuff of Life<center>
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When I was younger, I used to think Life was all about the big stuff.</div>
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Do you know what I mean?</div>
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The things that feel momentous.</div>
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Having huge adventures, being awarded hard-won qualifications, building a career, travelling to far-flung places, seeing as much of everything as I could, buying a house. I was very focused on tucking as many of these big events under my belt as I could. I was very adept at striving for the next big thing.</div>
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I didn't place an awful lot of conscious awareness on the smaller spaces between the big things of Life. <br />
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It wasn't fully aware that the ordinary moments of each day could hold as much treasure as the landmark events. I was very goal-orientated. Focused on doing rather than being.<br />
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And then I got ill and Life changed.<br />
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Life suddenly became very much about the spaces between the big adventures.<br />
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As a result, over the years of living with a long-term illness, I've had a deep change of heart about what is and isn't the big stuff of Life.<br />
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I've come to understand that Life is a continuous thread of very small moments, connected to each other. I know that's stating the blindingly obvious, but stay with me on this. Each day we are given a certain amount of time. Moments strung together to experience. What we place in each moment determines the quality of our lives. Life isn't simply about what happens to us or what next big thing we're striving for. Life is very much about what we choose to do, be, see and feel in each small moment.<br />
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I used to waste so many moments striving for the next big thing. Not realising that the moment I was in was the only thing I had. And that it held its own beauty.<br />
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There are only moments. Each moment an opportunity to love, be tender and to connect. To love ourselves, and other people. To be tender with ourselves, and other people. To connect with ourselves and other people. <br />
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The big stuff of Life isn't what I thought it was. The Big Stuff of Life is actually the small stuff of Life repeated. Over and over again. A chain of small connected moments of love, kindness, beauty and gentleness, where we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and allow other people to see our vulnerability. Where we're brave enough to reach out into each moment and connect with what's really in our hearts, and to give our hearts to other people in a way that is kind, gentle, tender, and loving.<br />
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If we are able to do that from one moment to the next, we have a continuous thread of beautiful moments all connected to each other and connecting us to the people around us. We are living a continuous thread of tenderness. Creating a continuous thread of loving minutes, that eventually add up to a Lifetime of Love.<br />
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What could be bigger than that?<br />
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P.S. Jarryd Stoneman asked his 93 year old great grandmother with severe dementia if she wanted to dance. He created a a big moment out of a small moment with tenderness and kindness.</div>
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P.P.S. I'm not advocating sainthood, here, you understand. I'm fully in support of the need for swearing, hand gesticulations, the odd manhandling of a cushion with a rolling pin when things get too much, and the importance of gin. A good roast dinner does wonders to keep the wheels of tenderness oiled as well. Just sayin'. </div>
Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-63819572430876103772016-05-20T23:56:00.000+01:002016-09-21T19:07:38.862+01:00Headway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I saw this short film "Headway" with Louis Boniface recently.<br />
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I think it's beautiful.</div>
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Falling is such a fundamental part of life, isn't it?
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When we're children we learn to walk by repeatedly falling over and getting up again. There's no shame attached to falling as a child. It happens. Gravity, feet that are too big for our little bodies, and spending a lot of time literally spinning in circles, mean that as children, we find ourselves intimately acquainted with losing our balance and hitting the floor.
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As adults, falling isn't a part of our everyday existence. Generally, folk aren't keeling over in droves as they head through town (Saturday nights excluded). Shame seems to have attached itself to falling by the time we consider ourselves grown up, and it somehow means we've failed if we fall. Both in the literal sense (running for the bus and tripping over the paving slab in front of more people than you can waggle a stick at) and the metaphorical sense (losing all your savings in a bad investment).*
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*neither of these things has ever happened to me, although I did do a very impressive fall down a spiral staircase in a very crowded nightclub back in the 90's, and managed a somewhat flouncy recovery into the bar after dismounting the bottom step (there may have been a smattering of applause)
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After watching this video, I've been thinking a lot about falling as a metaphor for Life and what we make it mean about ourselves if we do fall. As if somehow our worst beliefs about ourselves are true if we make a mistake, lose our balance, stumble, get knocked down by Life.
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But they aren't.
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No matter how many times we fall, we are still a beautiful combination of strength, and vulnerability. Tenacity and tiredness. Open-heartedness and fear. Creativity and compassion.</center>
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I watch Louis Boniface fall in this film and see how he turns every loss of control into something graceful and beautiful.
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Maybe, when Life sends something unexpected, and we start to lose our balance, instead of tensing and clinging on, if we can allow ourselves to relax into the falling, stretch into the freedom of it, perhaps we can find ourselves flowing with Life a little more rather than fighting it.
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Losing control and falling aren't the worst things that can happen to us.
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We all fall. Life happens. We haven't failed if we fall. </center>
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There can be great beauty in the falling and then choosing to get up again.</center>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-65738267752934789732016-02-20T13:30:00.000+00:002016-06-06T14:10:32.307+01:00TendernessHello. How are you?<br />
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Today would have been Mum's 71st birthday, so it seems the perfect day to start writing here again after taking such a long break.<br />
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On Wednesday it will be 16 months since Mum died. Even as I type that out I find it hard to understand how simultaneously quickly and slowly those 16 months have passed. I feel as if I am finally waking up from a deep, heavy, nightmarish sleep, blinking and stretching into Springtime.<br />
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Grief is a very strange thing. It feels as if I am finally reaching beyond it. Coming out of the "grief trenches". It's lovely to be able to have finally found the edges of it. <br />
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I haven't wanted to write about it all here. The process of feeling the many contradictions and paradoxes within grief has felt raw, violent and savage in a way I haven't known how to use words to express. <br />
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I am usually very comfortable with words, with writing out how something has felt to me, of being able to express my understanding of it. But this experience of losing my Mum has challenged that understanding of myself as I've felt utterly unable to join words together in a way that gives the emotional and physical experience of the grief any truth or depth.<br />
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When I lived in Japan, I lived alongside earthquakes. They happened frequently, without warning, and I experienced very clearly the process of realising I was not in control of very much at all in life. When the earth moves (and not in a good way) the sense of powerlessness and vulnerability is acute.<br />
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And that has been my experience of this grief. Not depression, sadness, or wretched crying (although I have felt those things), but much more powerfully, a devastating meeting of my own vulnerability and powerlessness to control life.<br />
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I couldn't change what happened to Mum. I couldn't remove her suffering. I couldn't protect her from the illness. I couldn't take away her pain. I couldn't change anything about what she experienced.<br />
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All we could do was witness what she was going through and love her, so that she wasn't alone within it.<br />
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The most difficult aspect of grief, for me, has been the deep and thudding understanding of how vulnerable we are. How soft and gentle our hearts are, how easily wounded we can be, how at any moment an illness, accident, or event can lead to a devastating consequence. How powerless we are in the face of things out of our control. How savage loss is a part of life.<br />
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And how to reconcile that understanding with how to move forward knowing it.<br />
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How to not be afraid of life and everything it brings.<br />
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We are all made of approximately 40% stardust. The average human male is made up of 60% water. There is a fragility to how we're made..<br />
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So the question has been for me, "How do I move forward after seeing and experiencing so closely how brutal life can be?"<br />
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And the answer I came to this week is "tenderness".<br />
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I thought it was about Love, giving love, receiving love. Which it is. But, for me this week, I've realised it's about something inherent within love.<br />
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It's about the expression of love through tenderness.<br />
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The kindness, gentleness and sensitivity to pain that defines tenderness.<br />
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Our hearts are tender. Our dreams are tender. Our muscles get tender. <br />
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We need tenderness; us vulnerable, joy-filled, often weary, sometimes broken-hearted, humans.<br />
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We are often given tenderness as children. Kisses when we fall, cuddles when we hurt, nose nuzzles, ear tickles, the moments when we are wrapped gently in fluffy towels after baths. Gentle moments of deep kindness. Often from our mums.<br />
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As adults that tenderness can subside. We are busy. We push ourselves hard. We strive. We want to thrive. We can feel tired, impatient, grumpy. So can the people around us.<br />
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Tenderness can be absent for a long time without us even knowing it. We can especially lack the ability to be tender with ourselves.<br />
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I have decided I want a life filled with small moments of tenderness. Gentleness, kindness and a sensitivity towards pain. My own and other people's. I don't want to be blind to my vulnerabilities or those of others.<br />
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I don't want to hurt myself or other people through lacking tenderness.<br />
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Loss, grief and hurt are part of living. I don't want to be hardened by those things. I want to be tender to them.<br />
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It isn't weakness to be tender. I think it's a strength to understand our vulnerabilities and to live life fully aware of them, loving them and being kind to those parts of ourselves that need gentleness. I think it's only when we can meet our tender spots and love them (even if it makes us supremely uncomfortable) that we can do the same for others.<br />
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There is deep beauty in the fact that we are so vulnerable, and that we know it, and keep going anyway.<br />
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Happy birthday, Mum. I love you.<br />
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With huge love for you and your tenderness, wherever you are.<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">♥</span> </div>
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P.S. This is my latest painting. Mixed-media on watercolour paper. Inspired by the artwork of <a href="http://www.willowing.org/" target="_blank">Tamara LaPorte</a>. Click <a href="http://www.willowing.org/" target="_blank">here</a> to go to her website. Take a peek, it's beautiful.</div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-13767448995408476372015-07-27T19:57:00.002+01:002016-06-06T14:16:07.621+01:00Summer Soul SearchingHello again. How are you?<br />
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I want to have something beautiful, witty and wise to write here, for you. A message full of optimism and hope, and sometimes I think I might just manage it. But possibly not today...<br />
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I'm not maudlin, you understand, I'm just feeling weary of grieving. And it's not something I can turn off.<br />
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I can't snap out of it. Or wilfully distract myself from it.<br />
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I feel like I'm in an enormous IKEA, and I'm committed to following the floor plan through all the departments (of Grief). There's no short-cut I can take through Bedrooms (Crying), Kitchens (Deep Rattling Aloneness) and Storage (Heavy Weariness), that will whip me out into the Supermarket Area of Goodies (Smiley and Not Flinching with Every Quick Movement Any More).<br />
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I don't want to sound upset or angry. I don't want to come over as bitter, or God forbid, self-pitying, but I'm definitely in the region of possibly knocking on those doors. If not knocking, then somewhere close to ringing the bell and then legging it.<br />
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Grieving is exhausting.<br />
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Time doesn't heal. <br />
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Healing doesn't automatically happen because time has passed. <br />
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Healing is an active process of having the ability to face all the darkest, murkiest, loneliest corners of the self. Without doing an about-face 180' turn and bolting, (hair on fire), screaming to the heavens for a bottle of gin bigger than your head, with the words "What the eff was that? I don't want to look at that pile of c**p ever again and no one can make me!"<br />
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Every day waking up to the most painful parts of the self and not muttering "The horror! The horror!". Instead, facing those dark, scary feelings, looking into them, seeing them, acknowledging the hurt they bring, expressing that pain and then, subsequently being able to let the pain go, piece by small piece.<br />
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It takes some stamina to stay with yourself when what you're looking at and feeling is lots and lots of murky loss.<br />
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Pass the gin.<br />
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In the past when I've grieved, I've reached a point where I've needed to numb out for a time, and have tried to use food, drink, friends and family as massive distractions when I couldn't face feeling my own hurt.<br />
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Now that I'm older and not much wiser, I've decided that's not something I want to do to myself.<br />
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Not least because, what I've discovered while grieving the death of my mum, is that the grief that hasn't been actively healed in years gone by comes back to haunt you when a big loss happens. It really does.<br />
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Like rowdy friends at a party, and demanding an audience for their bad jokes.<br />
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I'm grieving for all of my losses this time around. Not just the massive loss of my mum, which is huge in and of itself, but many of those smaller losses I numbed out and distanced myself from through the years.<br />
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Each one seems to be popping up, asking to be felt and released. Not unlike "Whack-a-Mole" the fairground game where you have to wallop that annoying little fella on the head as he peeks up out of one hole after another. Only I haven't got a plastic mallet and there's no mole to beat the c**p out of.<br />
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It's been 9 months since my Mum died. And I'm tired.<br />
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Distracting myself from my pain doesn't work now I'm older. I know the gin is just going to leave me feeling more awful the morning after. Eating a pile of food is only going to make me feel sick, and looking for myself in somebody else is going to leave me lonelier than I was before.<br />
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And none of this is because I don't deeply miss my mum or love her any less. It's because I love her so deeply that the grief is so intense and unrelenting.<br />
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So, I'm facing myself and my hurt, and I feel like I want to say, firmly and quite clearly. "Yup. I get it. I need to look at it all. But, I'm done. I've had enough of lifting up rocks and looking at the shadowy stuff underneath. I'd like some sun, some sand, a bit of a shindig and some massive honking great belly laughs, if it's all the same to you, Universe. And while you're at it, could you mix me a cocktail with all the trimmings and more paper umbrellas than you can waggle a stick at?"<br />
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How do you balance feeling your grief with having some lightness in life? I don't easily seem able to at the moment, and I'm tired of feeling all the sadness. I haven't yet fully found a way to balance the sadness with something gentler. Hot baths, hugs, and snoozing are my go-to heart-lifters at the moment. Oh, and good, ripe mangoes. That's not a euphemism.<br />
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I miss the fun of life. Grieving and healing loss are hard ruddy work and I feel very disconnected from the Emma who cries laughing.<br />
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I need a holiday from my grief and haven't yet found a way of having a holiday from myself. I feel very guilty, writing that out loud. As if it somehow dishonours my mum. But it's my truth at the moment and I know my mum would understand.<br />
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So, I'm plodding on with the journey through all IKEA departments, taking a nap, or a TV break along the way, in the hope that if I stay my course, I'll soon find myself laughing more and enjoying a hot dog bigger than an inflatable, after navigating some of the dark corners of bedding.<br />
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How do you give yourself a break from feeling your grief? How do you find the fun and laughter in life while you're grieving?<br />
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Sending you huge love wherever you are.<br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: x-large;">♥</span> </div>
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P.S. This is a recent painting of mine, inspired by the artwork or Tamara LaPorte, and the quote by Henri Matisse.<br />
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P.P.S. Netflix is proving itself worth every penny for giving me a break. I am giving it an absolute bashing by currently watching a plethora of dramas, as well as learning more than I hope I will ever need to know about life in a women's prison. Orange definitely is the new black.<br />
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<br />Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-57752493528729180892015-05-06T16:41:00.000+01:002016-06-06T14:16:38.265+01:00Angels and Roses<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you for the warmth and support in your comments on my last post. I find it very therapeutic to write out my feelings here and send them out into the world. As strange as it sounds, I often forget that people read them. Seeing your words of support and feeling the kindness in them has really touched my heart. Thank you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is a painting of an angel I did a couple of years ago. I remember showing it to Mum and her loving it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have believed in angels ever since I was a little girl. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;">On 25th April it was the 6 month anniversary of my Mum dying, and r</span><span style="line-height: 19.32px;">ecently I've been experiencing a subtle but powerful shift.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Almost every month of the past 6 months has contained a significant date that has scratched at the raw wound that has wanted to heal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The first Guy Fawkes' Night, the first Christmas and New Year, Mum's 70th birthday, Mothers' Day, Easter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Each one an accentuation of her absence. But strangely enough, those significant dates have not been the times that have hurt the most.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A little while ago, I returned once again to the hospital where Mum spent her last weeks, for one of my regular appointments there. Seeing the windows to the room where she stayed, I noticed they were open. Another family inside, possibly experiencing something similar to us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I spent a few moments looking up at those windows, remembering all four of us inside. At the time, trying so hard to know and understand how best to love and support Mum, and how best to be able to let her go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I find being back at the hospital very painful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I think grieving is possibly a process of meeting the self.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If we can stay with ourselves in our darkest times, not abandon ourselves when we are at our most messy, broken and fearful, and not strain to run from our sadness, we get to hit rock bottom and realise it's actually a very solid place to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm having a deep change of heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Building a new way of living.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">JK Rowling said "Rock bottom is the strong foundation on which I built my life."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I think grief is an opportunity to hit rock bottom, meet ourselves and realise that actually we keep good company.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We are lovable even in our messiness, hurt and feelings of brokenness. I believe life is about deeply experiencing all the emotions and feelings, not just the ones we judge as "good". And if we can do that we can find a space of self-acceptance that can't be very easily shaken or disturbed. Our foundation in life becomes much more solid because we become acquainted with our shadows and realise they were only that, shadows. Not anything to be afraid of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Life sometimes brings pain and struggle, not to make us suffer, but in order, I think, that we become better acquainted with who we really are and to give us an opportunity to meet ourselves when we are cracked wide open and all the masks have fallen away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, Spring is here, and I am bobbing along on rock bottom, deeply glad of the solid foundation it gives, and meeting myself face-on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've decided that I like who I'm meeting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sending you love, wherever you are.</span></div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-32396973699273188032015-03-09T16:26:00.000+00:002016-06-06T14:16:54.298+01:00Some ThoughtsI'm aware that writing about grief may not bring floods of new blog readers to my blog, and I've thought about whether writing about such personal loss is "too much information" to be sharing on a blog where I usually write about art, creativity and my attempts to draw a cat that looks like a cat. It's a deeply personal topic.<br />
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But, not writing about it feels more difficult than writing about it. Somehow, the grief I'm experiencing is demanding a voice, not to stay stuck in it, but actually in order to be able to move through it.<br />
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If this is difficult to read, I understand. It's human nature to want to relieve another person's distress and hurt. But grief can't be fixed, and moving through it is a very lonely experience. Moving through it without being able to express what it feels like is lonelier still.<br />
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So, I find myself compelled to share about it here, even though it's such a private thing.<br />
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Grief isn't linear. It isn't something that can be controlled. It isn't clear and concise. And, above all else, it isn't in any way, shape or form, simple.<br />
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My experience of this grief is different to any other I have experienced. I have experienced loss and grief before. I am divorced, I have lost other deeply loved relatives to illness. I know how I experienced those great losses and how I moved through them, until I reached the edges and was able to pull myself into a "new normal".<br />
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But this is different.<br />
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I find myself thinking of friends I love very much who have lost their mums too, and I realise how little I understood of the devastation they were going through when their losses occurred. It wasn't out of callousness or lack of care on my part, but simply a total inexperience of it that meant my understanding was limited.<br />
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This grief feels vast, and deep, and so far, four months after the death of my mum, I haven't found the edges of it. I stretch out thinking that perhaps if I reach far enough, I will find a place internally where it ends, but so far, that's not happened.<br />
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And then I read this quote by Eckhart Tolle, and I found myself writing it out in my art journal and surrounding it with pink roses (mine and my mum's favourite flowers)...<br />
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Grief is the process of trying to accept the unacceptable. The process of trying to make peace with the absence of my mum.</div>
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<b>"For me it was like losing a planetary presence: Just empty space instead of all that gravity." </b></div>
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<b>-Unknown</b></div>
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And so four months after my mum's death, I find myself fighting a painful battle of trying to accept something I find unacceptable: Living in the world without my mum in it with me. </div>
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Grief isn't an event. It isn't a choice either. I know my mum isn't here any more. I understand fully what happened to her. I'm not wallowing in sadness for the sake of it, or refusing to pull up my boot straps and carry on. I know life goes on. I want it to and I want to be a part of it. But right now, my heart is healing and trying to find a way to accept the painful truth it holds, that there are two parts to my life. My life with mum as an integral part of it, interwoven into the fabric of my days, where she was physically present in the landscape of it all. And the other part, where she's gone, and there is the total absence of all of her.</div>
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I feel such deep loss and sadness that Mum's no longer with me physically, talking to me, listening to me, being irritated by me, telling me she's proud of me, touching me, disapproving of something I've not done or done, loving me regardless, smiling at me, laughing with me at something rude I've said, hugging me and holding me tight when the world feels frightening. </div>
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Grief is the process of trying to accept that this is the second half of my life, the half without Mum, and it's a strange and complex journey.</div>
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I've been confused about how to do this grief journey. Tempted to give myself a hard time for finding it so difficult, Telling myself "it's been four months, Em, come on, Love, get better at doing this." And then I realise, it's been four months, sixteen weeks. Hardly any time at all, and I am doing just fine where I am.</div>
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I know this will change, I know it will get easier, I know I won't always feel this way. But for now, it's where I am and I want to at least try and explain why I'm not smiling as much as I used to (just for now), and why my postman looks terrified when I open the door to collect the mail and he catches sight of my thatched barnet.</div>
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With love to you in your grief, if you are grieving, whoever you are and wherever you are.</div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-36976076500235961582015-03-02T21:36:00.000+00:002016-05-01T23:46:32.266+01:00More Cat ArtDo you remember the cat pencil drawing I did a few weeks ago?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDlEWuflWytClo1kYJOjMGrI_d38NdEcYEBI7QJPfn_kSK64Zff864E9Iwx04tok-M3UB9ZFR4Hh_uJ63SR9ehjvk5ze5d36bAy5n0SpWoCh9tLRGQbhuYz-UG-vYseTZVm8umPzLdnE/s1600/catartmimiandtilly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDlEWuflWytClo1kYJOjMGrI_d38NdEcYEBI7QJPfn_kSK64Zff864E9Iwx04tok-M3UB9ZFR4Hh_uJ63SR9ehjvk5ze5d36bAy5n0SpWoCh9tLRGQbhuYz-UG-vYseTZVm8umPzLdnE/s320/catartmimiandtilly.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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You can read more about it <a href="http://mimiandtilly.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/cat-art.html" target="_blank">HERE</a><br />
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I wanted to see if I could turn it into a "character cat" whereby it had all it's defining features but was quirkier.<br />
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So I sat down today to try it.<br />
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This is how it started out. </div>
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Ears. Eyes. Strange "snowman" type body.</div>
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Then I got lost in it and just let it appear on the page.</div>
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This is how he ended up.</div>
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I love his bright eyes and little pink nose.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmSRH92VwlclZKGbb5skgUatMUW3Opix-A974YKaodbJQG3pxSczL_Z-UMAgDlniuCdgzyy7zt-c4qm3InYxtzVmlp1HPReltSRtjvPV_1JDjTnCcscV99ja679q-OCHByr00zCQDbwM/s1600/fullfredcopyrightmimiandtilly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmSRH92VwlclZKGbb5skgUatMUW3Opix-A974YKaodbJQG3pxSczL_Z-UMAgDlniuCdgzyy7zt-c4qm3InYxtzVmlp1HPReltSRtjvPV_1JDjTnCcscV99ja679q-OCHByr00zCQDbwM/s400/fullfredcopyrightmimiandtilly.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I'm going to try and draw Betty in this style and see if I can capture her expression (being black, she may look like a bin bag with eyes, but that's a risk I'm prepared to take). I'll let you see the results as soon as I've drawn her.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZo-9LDTX-O5-V6PHwuJAddFvxP54abvsiOscpmRPmggwBM3svewXy0T3f_moFsOg1VCt4saKYLydMa1iacwn1fq1UPfmjMYNFz8C0j7aavjAFtinX61CGSmlN8EpLBjqI-tOOhuyXDFM/s1600/fredprofilepiccopyrightedmimandtilly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZo-9LDTX-O5-V6PHwuJAddFvxP54abvsiOscpmRPmggwBM3svewXy0T3f_moFsOg1VCt4saKYLydMa1iacwn1fq1UPfmjMYNFz8C0j7aavjAFtinX61CGSmlN8EpLBjqI-tOOhuyXDFM/s320/fredprofilepiccopyrightedmimandtilly.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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How are you? Have you completed any creative projects lately? I seem to be seeing cats everywhere at the moment and am loving all the cat inspiration.</div>
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<br />Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-56529449127908447882015-01-29T16:05:00.001+00:002016-05-01T23:48:41.062+01:00Cat ArtI had a realisation at the end of last week.<br />
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I love drawing and painting, and I want to draw and paint more.<br />
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You might think that's fairly obvious, but to my poor grief addled head, not so much.<br />
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I draw and paint as and when I can. And that isn't very often. The mixed-media ladies that I paint take a long time to do. Layered up over time.
I realised that I wanted to be able to draw most days, quick sketches, small studies, in order to get better at drawing and to draw more easily.<br />
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But most importantly, so that I can feel happy.<br />
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Drawing makes me happy, and all things considered over the past few months, I feel like I need some of the happy.<br />
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So I ordered myself a moleskine artists sketch journal that I can keep in my pocket, and some coloured pencils.
This morning, I woke up and said to myself, Betty and Eric and Ernie (yes, I talk to my cats) "Let the happy begin!"<br />
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Dad had saved an insert from a magazine for me ("I saw this and knew you'd love it!"), all about how to draw cats using the grid technique. (my dad knows me very well). It explained how to draw a grid onto a piece of tracing paper and then put it over a photo. Then draw a grid of the same size on your paper and copy, grid square by grid square, the photo onto your paper.
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This is the first stage. You can see the grid, and the drawing I've copied from a photo of a cat.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTtwJw0xDig2Js75KWWGJXwslTXb3h_IxUhOAyjSlX1SYMq-sF1niQiDRkJEKjvM9l0wc18rICr-2G1b-w70PPnQiZZYihUuYHTS9GHpGo3SFlUnL-3ZkRuinvYmfjeWrVDb_0GwmpyA/s1600/10945028_10152977536491855_5309556854317590869_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTtwJw0xDig2Js75KWWGJXwslTXb3h_IxUhOAyjSlX1SYMq-sF1niQiDRkJEKjvM9l0wc18rICr-2G1b-w70PPnQiZZYihUuYHTS9GHpGo3SFlUnL-3ZkRuinvYmfjeWrVDb_0GwmpyA/s320/10945028_10152977536491855_5309556854317590869_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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Using this technique helped me draw the prespective of the cats features fairly accurately. After erasing the grid squares, I was left with my outline. Bring on the coloured pencils!</div>
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The process wasn't always easy with a Betty in the house, but we negotiated a settlement pleasing to both of us (food related on both sides) and things were able to move along.</div>
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Here's my finished moggy. </div>
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I thoroughly enjoyed drawing her and am definitely going to be using the grid technique again.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEqrphXKXYReWjziBCGSw7sWCw5dbcGCBWuCMT5PgDCOdF_o84MlqvcBJihDkCywjjjVDNSJNhTlvl12y4SND-Hl1_L8maLioVFeq71Yz5D5TM37lCpDLM3zmzYZk6cFAKGCQl_aNoWA/s1600/catartmimiandtilly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="373" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEqrphXKXYReWjziBCGSw7sWCw5dbcGCBWuCMT5PgDCOdF_o84MlqvcBJihDkCywjjjVDNSJNhTlvl12y4SND-Hl1_L8maLioVFeq71Yz5D5TM37lCpDLM3zmzYZk6cFAKGCQl_aNoWA/s400/catartmimiandtilly.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I felt happy while I was drawing. A little bit of nourishment to heal the heart. I'm going to try and draw more often. Building up a small moleskine journal of sketch pages to help my heart heal. It's what Mum would have wanted.</div>
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Have you tried the grid-drawing technique? Did you like it?</div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-80705313523635628142015-01-12T21:11:00.001+00:002016-05-01T23:53:55.128+01:00Hello 2015So the anger has gone.<br />
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As the clock ticked down to midnight on New Year's Eve, in the happy company of my close friends, and while eating gorgeous food, I felt myself being enveloped in a blanket of sadness. It wrapped around me in a silent attack. Out of the blue, totally unexpectedly, it slid out from behind the chair I was lounging in and covered me with it's heaviness. <br />
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I thought I was dealing with my mum's death fairly well. We had got through her funeral, had survived the run up to Christmas, had managed to laugh and smile on Christmas day, and had navigated all the happy, family-based traditions that go along with the "holiday season" with minimal damage to body and mind. The anger I'd been feeling about it all was starting to mellow.<br />
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And then the countdown to New Year's Eve happened on the TV.<br />
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I could see the clock. Hear the numbers getting smaller, 10... 9... 8...<br />
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And all I could think was "NOOOOOOOOOOO!"<br />
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I felt pulled towards a new year, away from 2014. How could this be a new year already? Mum was a part of everything up until October 25th 2014. If I stepped over into 2015, I was moving away from 2014. The place, in my heart, where my mum was still.<br />
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And for the past few days, that deep, lonely sadness has held me tight.<br />
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I understand I need to feel all the feelings, but I find some more uncomfortable to feel than others. I find anger powerful and sometimes unsettling and in the past have tried to push beyond it, sometimes through gritted teeth.<br />
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I find sadness heavy, and have been known to consider trying almost anything (bar stand-up comedy or watching Lenny Henry) to move through it..<br />
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But over the past eleven days there has been nothing to do but feel it all. Because I've physically and emotionally not been able to do anything else.<br />
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I've lived with M.E for twelve years and understand more than your average person about exhaustion. <br />
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But I have learned how best to flow with it. How to minimise the chances of it crippling every minute of every day.<br />
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In the past, I've been told by certain doctors who don't understand M.E. that I've been depressed and not physically ill and I've struggled to explain that it isn't my heart or mind that feels exhausted, it's my body.<br />
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These past eleven days have shown me very clearly the difference between depression and physical exhaustion.<br />
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I have felt a weariness with life that just wouldn't leave me. A loneliness and isolation that has whistled around me like a storm wind, emphasising all the empty spaces. A sense of feeling heart-broken, broken-hearted, unable to feel any love, joy or peacefulness. I have felt broken in two, wounded, bruised, and hurting. With no desire to love life. Too full of darkness to be able to see anything more than the heavy moment I'm living in.<br />
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I have felt utterly vulnerable. Red raw. Unable to stop the pain.<br />
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For someone who usually sees the world through not just rose-tinted but full-on hot pink glasses, this has been somewhat troubling.<br />
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As well as a tad effing frightening.<br />
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A friend called me on Saturday and asked "Have you painted any of this?"<br />
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"No".<br />
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I haven't known how to paint this out. It has felt too painful to get too close to my heart, the place where I paint from.<br />
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But, I listened to my kind friend's words and took out my art journal and pens and I painted what came out onto the page.<br />
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It is OK to feel sad. It's OK to grieve. I have given myself permission to let the tears fall. To emotionally curl up and lick my wounds. To hibernate for a while until I'm ready to uncurl and carry on.</div>
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I know that if I allow myself to feel this sadness, I will move through it to the other side. </div>
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If you're grieving a loss too, I send you huge love through the internet ether. </div>
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Wishing you a beautiful 2015.</div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-23524089835346491832014-12-08T15:08:00.000+00:002016-05-01T23:57:06.343+01:00And BreatheHow are you doing? I hope you've still got all your limbs intact during this run-up to Christmas?<br />
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After witnessing my first ever British Black Friday, (via online videos, I stayed indoors that Friday with a crash helmet on and wrapped in foam, you know, just in case) I am only partly jesting. </div>
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So this is the first Christmas without Mum. </div>
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Back at the beginning of 2014, that wasn't a sentence I thought I'd be writing any time soon. But if this year has shown me anything, it's that life can turn on a sixpence and big things can change faster than you can say "What the feck just happened?".</div>
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It's four months since we got Mum's diagnosis, and two months since she died. </div>
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Navigating the run-up to Christmas has been a new experience. Strangely I've felt closer to Mum. She loved making Christmas flower arrangements, swags of foliage wrapped in ribbon around the banisters and fireplace. Having Christmas decorations everywhere has reminded me of all my childhood Christmases where Mum made me believe in magic. Sweet, warm memories of my Mum loving us. Laughing. Hugging. Putting my sister and I to bed on Christmas Eve with kisses and pillow cases hooked on the wooden knobs of the chest of drawers.</div>
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It's a kind of madness this grieving thing isn't it?</div>
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An intensity of emotions that I have felt could possibly somehow break me. </div>
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The depth of my rage and anger has been the most overwhelming aspect of this grief for my Mum.</div>
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Rage at how much Cancer hurt her. Rage at my powerlessness to do anything about that. Fury at the unfairness of what my mum experienced. Fury at myself for not knowing how to help Mum. Anger at Life/God/The Universe for handing this to Mum. </div>
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And relentless anger at my mum for leaving me.</div>
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I know. I feel bad even writing it out and admitting it.</div>
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I know logically that my mum didn't want to go anywhere, and had no control over the cancer she was battling. But in the days leading up to her death and in the days and weeks immediately afterwards, I have been heart-breakingly, eye-poppingly, teeth-clenchingly livid that she could leave me in the world without her.</div>
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And I have had to forgive myself over and over again for feeling that way. </div>
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It's grief. It does strange things to you.</div>
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Grief is changing me, and I've had to make some conscious decisions about what I want those changes to be. More brittle, closed, hardened, cynical? Or, open-hearted, softened, more sensitive and flexible, bending into life's challenges?</div>
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I think hard things can make us softer and stronger at the same time. And I think that's beautiful.</div>
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I can feel angry, bitter, and resentful, knowing it isn't a permanent state of being to feel those things. I can give myself a break and understand that even though I'm feeling painful things, everything is OK. I'm OK. They're feelings, not the truth about me.</div>
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I can trust and know that I am bigger than anything I feel, no matter how painful it is. I can understand that no feeling, no matter how overwhelming, will break me. And I can allow myself to feel all my feelings, knowing that in feeling them, I allow them to flow through me and subsequently pass. If I block them, or judge myself for feeling them, I stay stuck in them.</div>
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So, I'm not judging myself for my anger at Life right now. I'm allowing myself to feel it, trusting that I won't always feel this way.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dDhE8HYE5JM11rfferQas7IWuVr5Npor3c5lMyaiOXbd7A9RqPkkLm4gaoE2nr91Mh9ql7M_TrKlboTx979LAsTmOhoG8r1-GPbydkhqpmQ0XorhBwApUIyseoS5Ai1OpVVkUiPeRG8/s1600/elspeth2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dDhE8HYE5JM11rfferQas7IWuVr5Npor3c5lMyaiOXbd7A9RqPkkLm4gaoE2nr91Mh9ql7M_TrKlboTx979LAsTmOhoG8r1-GPbydkhqpmQ0XorhBwApUIyseoS5Ai1OpVVkUiPeRG8/s1600/elspeth2.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
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I know too that by choosing to look for the beautiful, the small sweet things of life, while I'm feeling this anger, I stay focussed on what is the real bedrock of my life.</div>
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I can feel livid, angry, resentful and furious at Life for the loss of Mum, and still believe in the beauty and magic of life while I'm letting go of these feelings.</div>
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And I do. I believe that Life is working for us not against us. I believe in the tender joy of life, even in the midst of loss and sadness and deep, deep grief. </div>
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It's a strange line to tread. A wonky, contradictory balancing act. And, for me, it's these uncomfortable contradictions that grief brings, that makes grief so tricky to experience. </div>
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Here's Elspeth. A painting I finished just a few days before we got the news that Mum had cancer again. She tells me to "Look for the Extraodinary and the Fantastic". </div>
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It's very important that we do.</div>
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Sending you (and the people you love) huge love for Christmas and 2015.</div>
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Thank you for all your love, support and friendship through 2014.</div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: x-large;">♥</span></div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-16126698421214501132014-11-30T21:16:00.000+00:002016-05-01T06:48:19.345+01:00The Beauty of Small ThingsHello.<br />
<br />
How are you? I hope life has been treating you kindly and you're enjoying the sweet things of winter.<br />
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Back in July, in the midst of summer, I made a commitment to tell you my truth. (You can read more about that <a href="http://mimiandtilly.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/the-art-of-living-glittery-life-telling.html" target="_blank">here</a>.)<br />
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So, I'm going to launch right on in...<br />
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At the beginning of 2012, completely out of the blue, my beautiful mum was diagnosed with cancer. She was given treatment for it and we were told later that year, that the treatment had been successful.<br />
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As you will know if you've been reading my blog for a while, in the summer of 2013, my beautiful sister was diagnosed with cancer. You can read more about that <a href="http://mimiandtilly.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/hello-winter-hello-friends.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://mimiandtilly.blogspot.co.uk/2013/12/teeny-tiny-art.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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Just as life was starting to settle into a gentler flow of warm summery days, after my sister's chemotherapy had finished, my mum was diagnosed with cancer again this August. <br />
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My beautiful mum died in October, just over a month ago, ten weeks after her diagnosis in August.<br />
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My mum and I were very close.<br />
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For the past few months since my mum's diagnosis and her subsequent death, I have been feeling immense grief.<br />
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The past couple of years have been an intense journey for my dad, my sister and I. A journey where we have become much more intimately acquainted with cancer and the effects it has on individuals and families. It has been and continues to be extremely challenging.<br />
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Grief is a strange thing. Not one emotion but a combination of many different emotions. Each taking their turn to be felt.<br />
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I have been left with choices about what I do with what has happened. And I find myself stepping tentatively along a path where the world looks and feels different and strange, and "normal" isn't normal any more.<br />
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There are some things that I am learning as I go along. Things that matter and have become the bedrock on which I am building a new normal in a world without my mum, a world which contains cancer, and loss and messiness, alongside beauty, huge love and immense kindness.<br />
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I'd like to share with you those things that The Universe is teaching me. That I'm doing my best to learn.<br />
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<b><u>Lessons From The Universe</u></b></div>
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<b>1. Emma, above and beyond all other things, it's important to look for the beauty in small things.</b><br />
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When life hurts, and you feel like your heart is breaking, it's important to bring things down to their smallest common denominator. Look for the beauty in small, simple things. A warm blanket that you can snuggle in, a soft pillow where you can lay your head for a while and rest, a cat to hold while you listen to it purring, a hot bath to ease your tired, stressed muscles. Grief causes tension and it's important to be especially kind to yourself as you're feeling it.<br />
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<b>2. Emma, let yourself be loved by the people in your life who want to love and help you.</b><br />
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Letting someone help you is giving that person an opportunity to show you how much they love you, and even though it can be monumentally difficult to do, be courageous enough to really let people love you. It's easy to dismiss an offer of help for fear of putting someone out, to deflect a compliment, to reply with "I'm fine" when people ask you how you're doing. Don't. Tell the truth about how you're feeling, what you need and what you don't need. Allow the people who love you to show you their love with their actions. Let people help you.<br />
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<b>3. Don't judge what you're feeling or how you're expressing what you're feeling. </b> <br />
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People deal with loss and grief differently. Some people cry a lot. Some people don't. Some people feel angry and frustrated. Other people feel confused and isolated. <br />
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Emma, it's OK to feel what you feel and to let yourself feel it without judging yourself. Allow yourself to feel what you feel.<br />
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<b>4. Stay in the moment.</b><br />
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It's normal to feel overwhelmed when you experience a loss like this. To feel disorientated and confused. Try not to project into the future and grow frightened of what's around the next corner. Live in the present moment, which is ultimately all anyone ever has, and make that moment matter by doing the "next right thing".<br />
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Even if doing the next right thing is climbing into bed, pulling the duvet over your tired head and sleeping.<br />
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All you have to do, Emma, is listen to your heart and gut, and you will know what you need to do in this moment to take care of yourself and be kind to yourself. <br />
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All of those small moments of being kind to yourself and following your heart will add up to hours, then a day, then days, then weeks, of doing all the things you need to do to take care of yourself, and move through this grief. <br />
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All you need to do is listen, in this moment, to what you need to do next, and then gently do it, without pushing yourself, or judging yourself.<br />
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Always remembering that, sometimes, the next right thing to do is "nothing".<br />
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<b>5. Trust that you will not always feel like this.</b><br />
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Emma, when you're in the midst of feeling such immense sadness and loss, it can feel all-consuming. The world can feel a little bit broken and life can feel as if it's lost it's sparkle.<br />
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Trust me when I tell you that you won't always feel like this. Your heart will heal and you will laugh huge great belly laughs again. Sooner than you think.<br />
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<b>6. Life is made up of contrasts.</b><br />
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You appreciate warmth, Emma, because you have experienced cold. You soar with joy because you've had times where you've been metaphorically face down in the mud. You are experiencing huge grief at the moment, and there will be a time where you feel huge happiness and connection, and will appreciate it with a new intensity, because you have felt the depth of grief you are feeling now. Life is full of contrasts, and part of living life to the full is experiencing all of those contrasts.<br />
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<b>7. You are not broken.</b><br />
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Losing your mum hurts deeply, but you are not broken. If you can allow yourself to feel the full weight of your grief with your heart wide open, you will know what it means to be present. <br />
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As Leonard Cohen said "There's a crack, a crack in everything, it's how the light gets in."<br />
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<b>8. You're doing better than you think.</b><br />
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Emma, you're doing brilliantly. Be gentle with yourself. You are enough.<br />
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So, these are the things I'm learning. That the Universe is teaching me. <br />
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I know none of us get through life without experiencing huge grief and loss. If you are experiencing great loss right now, I'm sending you huge love.<br />
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Bonkers Betty is doing everything she can to make sure I know I'm loved (including sitting on my shoulder and shouting in my ear. For a small cat, she can make a lot of noise.)<br />
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The painting "Embrace the Beauty of Small Things" is one I did a while ago and didn't get round to posting. I'll put it in the "Free Glitter" section for you. A small gift from me to you, with love.<br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: x-large;">♥</span></div>
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P.S. We raised £535 for Cancer Research UK. The winners of the prize draw were Rashell, Liza and Annie, who have all been notified that they were the winners. Thank you so much for all your support. It has an added importance and poignancy for me now. Em x</div>
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<br />Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-2484548982424346242014-07-16T16:25:00.001+01:002016-05-01T06:48:37.949+01:00The Art of Living a Glittery Life: Telling My TruthHello. How are you?<br />
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I've missed you.<br />
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I'm sat at my computer desk, with a little cat called Betty, who is walking over the keyboard and head-butting my hands, making it very tricky to type. <br />
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This is Betty...<br />
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I know. She's a doll.</div>
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Betty and I got acquainted in May, when she decided to take up residence in my shed and have her three kittens in there.</div>
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We got further acquainted when I managed to bring her and the kittens safely into my home (with the help of the RSPCA and a very supportive local animal welfare society).</div>
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I fell in love with her when she developed a severe case of peritonitis after being neutered, and I very nearly lost her.</div>
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Here she is this week.</div>
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Yes, that is an inflatable rubber ring around her neck. No, I don't have ambitions for her to become the next Esther Williams. (Carmen Miranda, maybe, with a little hat made of mini fruit.)<br />
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Ernie the cat has a big ole crush on her. Eric the cat is 15lbs of wibbling mess in her presence. Terrified. Of. Her. She weighs 6lbs. You do the maths.<br />
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I will tell you Betty's full story in my next post. Today, I wanted to tell you about something else.<br />
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A few days ago, a very dear friend of mine came to visit me. It was the first time I had seen her in 19 years. As soon as she stepped through my front door, we hugged and cried. It was so amazing to see her. The years fell away and we talked about all the things we had experienced over the past 19 years.<br />
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I told her my truth, she told me her truth, and it was beautiful.<br />
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As we talked she said to me, "Why don't you write about all of this on your blog?" <br />
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I told her that I struggled to walk the line between being open on my blog and giving way too much information. She responded with...<br />
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"Emma, people want to know your story."<br />
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So, as scary as this is, I think it may be time to go deeper and tell you my truth here on my blog. Not because I lack a healthy set of boundaries (OK. sometimes I do. I can't help it. Rude jokes are funny.) but because, in all honesty, living with several long-term illnesses that all trigger into each other and cause a lot of physical complications, limitations and pain has taught me some things about how to be happy.<br />
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I know that sounds odd, but you read me right.<br />
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I have learned some things about how to be happy because of the pain of living with illness.<br />
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If you're ok with it, I'd like to start sharing that sh*t with you.<br />
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Above all things in my life, I want to be honest and authentic. It feels scary to take off the mask and go deeper with you, but, if you'll be patient with me, and excuse my clumsiness as I get used to doing it, I'd like to tell you my truth. The reality of life living with illness, and what I've learned about how to live a glittery life even when it doesn't look exactly how you expected it to look.<br />
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There will be swearing. I will make inappropriate jokes. Sometimes things will get a bit dark. And I will probably get giddy and over-excited without meaning to. But I promise, above all else, to be absolutely honest with you, in the hope that you will be able to read something that touches you.<br />
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So, here is the first piece of my telling my truth. My sister has finished her chemotherapy and is recovering from the strenuous nature of that. She is doing amazingly. She's actually doing the Race For Life in a couple of weeks (walking not running) to mark her claiming back her life.<br />
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I am so proud to be her sister.<br />
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I went to the Family History Unit at the hospital today. Due to the history of different cancers in my family, I have an increased chance of getting breast cancer. I will be having annual screening for breast cancer from now on. I will also be referred to the genetic testing unit to see if I need to be tested for the breast cancer gene.<br />
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This is good news. <br />
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I am being given the opportunity to get intimately acquainted with my boobs, and to share with you how important that is. I now know what I need to know. There is no mystery for me. Today, I was shown how to check my breasts for lumps and was shown exactly what a milk duct feels like in my breasts and how different that feels to a lump. I now understand fully how important it is to get to know my own breasts and what's normal and abnormal for them.<br />
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I was pretty much close to hyperventilating on my way in to the hospital. I have studiously avoided having anything to do with my own breasts ever since my sister got her diagnosis. That's quite impressive considering my breasts are pretty much, you know, right under my nose. But going into the hospital today and being given very clear, open, supportive information about what I needed to know, took the fear away for me.<br />
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I know what I need to know.<br />
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When we have all the information, we know what we're dealing with and can make good, safe, loving choices for ourselves about what we want to do.<br />
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So, stepping off the deep end in my first post digging deeper into honesty and authenticity, I'm talking about boobs, touching myself, personal lumps and bumps. <br />
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You lucky, lucky people. I am on fire...<br />
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Is there something you've been putting off doing or checking out health-wise because you're nervous of knowing what it might mean?<br />
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Have you never checked your breasts because you're not quite sure what to feel for?<br />
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Could you feel OK about taking a deep breath and doing it anyway?<br />
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Wishing you the courage to do what you need to do health-wise to take care of yourself. <br />
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You are important. You matter.<br />
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With huge love,</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg92VmaAEGqEo57cNluMM7IWUU9NoJFSBw5wYvINRTZ1ReMm-_9RbKFO_McPNZYdKJOZI7gUkGwPQnzrTHsGO_DsOSewJEbOsyEfaS8jFqhQk8TnGlyqynZ6ullW7y6uAMGa5zxf8vt_Io/s1600/small+emma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg92VmaAEGqEo57cNluMM7IWUU9NoJFSBw5wYvINRTZ1ReMm-_9RbKFO_McPNZYdKJOZI7gUkGwPQnzrTHsGO_DsOSewJEbOsyEfaS8jFqhQk8TnGlyqynZ6ullW7y6uAMGa5zxf8vt_Io/s1600/small+emma.jpg" /></a></div>
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P.S. We've hit £350 on my Cancer Research UK fundraising page at <a href="http://www.justgiving.com/Emma-Saunders6" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">www.justgiving.com/Emma-Saunders6</span></a> and have only £150 to go before reaching our target of £500. Thank you for all your donations. There is still time to donate and enter the fine art raffle to win a signed and framed print of my painting of Ella. Please donate if you can. Em <span style="color: #990000;">♥</span><br />
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<br />Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-61819306091147426992014-05-24T16:24:00.002+01:002016-05-01T06:49:10.310+01:00Fundraising For Cancer Research UKHello there.<br />
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If you've been reading my blog for a while you will already know that my beautiful sister, Charlotte, is currently undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer. She has her final chemotherapy treatment this coming Tuesday 27th May 2014. Yaaaaaay!<br />
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In 2012, my gorgeous mum was diagnosed with cancer and was successfully treated for it. She has been cancer-free for two years. That feels good to write out.<br />
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Two of my grandparents died from cancer.<br />
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Cancer is an illness very close to my heart. It's an illness that can leave you feeling very powerless when you are watching members of your family experience it. The fear and the physical hardships they are going through can be very, very painful to witness. I have felt at a loss to know how to help my sister and mum as they have been walking their journey through living with cancer.<br />
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Supporting my sister, holding her hand, as her husband shaved her head will be an experience that will never leave me. The memories of hearing both my mum and my sister say to me, "it's cancer" within a year of each other will stay with me. Watching them both bravely face their fears, and the gruelling physical treatments, will stay with me. Watching my dad worry about his wife, and then the following year, see his eldest daughter go through chemotherapy, will stay with me. As a little girl, and young woman watching my grandparents fight and ultimately lose their battles with cancer is something that will stay with me.<br />
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Cancer sweeps into your life and brings with it huge change, uncertainty, fear and gruelling physical treatments. It is devastating for the person going through the treatments. It is frightening and painful in ways I don't know how to explain. It is devastating for the families of those diagnosed with cancer, as they watch their loved ones suffer and feel powerless to know how to help. <br />
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Because of this I have decided to raise money for <a href="http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/?gclid=CjkKEQjwhoGcBRDlu9S3mo7-udIBEiQASEw7QuB3NpxfdO7oTnCVyRvm4kFgIopTYPGyQ9V4ggk4vL3w_wcB" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Cancer Research UK</span></b></a>. A wonderful organisation that fundraises to finance research and studies into the causes and treatments of all kinds of cancers. Cancer Research UK receives no government funding and relies on donations from people like you and me to support their wonderful work.<br />
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Due to my own physical limitations I am unable to do the traditional things normally associated with fundraising. Running marathons, climbing mountains and sky-diving are not things that I am able to do (I'm slightly relieved!) but I have decided to raise money by doing something I can do. I have painted a picture in honour of my family members who have been diagnosed with cancer. I am raffling three prints of this painting, all proceeds going to Cancer Research UK.<br />
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Here is the painting I have created...<br />
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Ella</div>
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She is called "Ella" which is a derivative of "Eleanor" and means "beautiful fairy". She is made from antique book pages, vintage Japanese washi paper, acrylic paints, Prismacolor pencils, and art pens.<br />
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She has been painted with huge love, and has the words "Love", "Joy" and "Hope" hidden within the layers of paint and paper. In honour of my sister , mum and grandparents and all other people living with cancer.<br />
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I have opened a JustGiving page here <a href="http://www.justgiving.com/Emma-Saunders6"><b><span style="color: #990000;">www.justgiving.com/Emma-Saunders6</span></b></a>, and am asking people to make donations to Cancer Research UK through my JustGiving page in increments of £5 (£5, £10, £15, £20 etc), giving whatever you wish to give in increments of £5. Each increment of £5 = one entry to the raffle. So if you donate £5 your name is entered into the raffle once. If you donate £10, your name is entered into the raffle twice, if you donate £15, your name is entered into the raffle three times, etc, in increments of £5. If you enter your full name when making your donation, so that it is visible to me next to your donation amount, I can enter your name into the raffle the relevant number of times.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WJH6JRvFjp9YSItneX23kCNMDkdaAWCzA-e1F7OWJlQkYKxcfqqVAMEc_iqVvItpje_s93aYPXzY-SRxvVaKB6iqmSXtdy2BdMuCbgwpXE-BtGscUporoCe4dFUiN26aUCV-4KFnRcc/s1600/hope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WJH6JRvFjp9YSItneX23kCNMDkdaAWCzA-e1F7OWJlQkYKxcfqqVAMEc_iqVvItpje_s93aYPXzY-SRxvVaKB6iqmSXtdy2BdMuCbgwpXE-BtGscUporoCe4dFUiN26aUCV-4KFnRcc/s1600/hope.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>If you donate anonymously, I will take that as meaning you want to make a donation, but do not want to be entered into the raffle.</b><br />
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If you are NOT UK based and wish to enter, make a donation at the current exchange rate, of £5 British sterling or in increments of £5. For example, at today's rate £5 GB Sterling = US $8.42<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSi7qPo8aQqO0Hgm5suH_YO3n50L2lwb2z8LdQIBaTX_MfOnArpLrmOTnAU15mTCD2CghX4eELcXXX4gHmjWzXvUyl28GFJRSGNYeW7tZJgGvYV3i58aEAwM1bRfzd7j5TCEwreeM9fXs/s1600/joy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSi7qPo8aQqO0Hgm5suH_YO3n50L2lwb2z8LdQIBaTX_MfOnArpLrmOTnAU15mTCD2CghX4eELcXXX4gHmjWzXvUyl28GFJRSGNYeW7tZJgGvYV3i58aEAwM1bRfzd7j5TCEwreeM9fXs/s1600/joy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Please follow this link to my JustGiving page to make donations. Thank you so much for each and every donation you make to support <a href="http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/?gclid=CjkKEQjwhoGcBRDlu9S3mo7-udIBEiQASEw7QuB3NpxfdO7oTnCVyRvm4kFgIopTYPGyQ9V4ggk4vL3w_wcB" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Cancer Research UK</span></b></a>. A wonderful organisation that doesn't receive any government funding at all, but tirelessly works to fund studies into the causes and possible treatment of all types of cancer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQuvQt8edrhFF0Dr1JK_I-OLpVyRkbCaarbLeNWcMWyJT_st-7IOyFrCwLfUnvfcuiVxAQ1dA0ZksIkDkUrf_EJth0VpO-plajeDAgDdnAXRTOPFUZSU67c9gdpmqwV-c9XDnUL1LEfus/s1600/love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQuvQt8edrhFF0Dr1JK_I-OLpVyRkbCaarbLeNWcMWyJT_st-7IOyFrCwLfUnvfcuiVxAQ1dA0ZksIkDkUrf_EJth0VpO-plajeDAgDdnAXRTOPFUZSU67c9gdpmqwV-c9XDnUL1LEfus/s1600/love.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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There will be three fine art glicee prints of Ella available to win, printed on fine art paper using archival quality inks, tested and printed to Fine Art Trade Guild standards. The first prize will be signed by me, mounted and framed, and will be A4 sized. The second and third prize will be mounted and signed by me ready for you to frame yourself, and will be A5 sized.<br />
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If you've been reading my blog for a while, you will know that I don't sell my paintings. They are something I do, as and when the illnesses and energy allow, to lift me. No other paintings or prints of my paintings are currently available. Only these three prints of Ella will be made. No further prints of Ella will be available.<br />
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I have been scared of doing this in case no-one likes my paintings or is interested in owning a print, and I'm therefore not able to raise much money. But, on reflection, my sister and mum know the meaning of fear. With that in mind, I can put prints of my painting out into the world...! <span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">♥</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrO5EMcJsg8pBgQtMgVbupdOLYSfhQYze3HamA4YmfCStFzOvFdOz5lzfBHf4aTVZ85X7aHxkHitpt4wSu129H5taoSnAXgKVyozDK830tl-aeOnDUDFV48ZNm0SUClQwS0zxCeSu9udM/s1600/joy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrO5EMcJsg8pBgQtMgVbupdOLYSfhQYze3HamA4YmfCStFzOvFdOz5lzfBHf4aTVZ85X7aHxkHitpt4wSu129H5taoSnAXgKVyozDK830tl-aeOnDUDFV48ZNm0SUClQwS0zxCeSu9udM/s1600/joy1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The draw for the raffle will take place on 21st September 2014, when all the names of the people who have donated will be entered into a hat the relevant number of times based on their donation amount, and three names will be pulled from the hat by my sister, Charlotte, my mum, and me. The winners will be announced here on my blog in the days following 21st September 2014. The 21st September is my sister's and brother-in-law's wedding anniversary, and seems a happy day to draw the prizewinners on.<br />
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I hope that this is all easy to understand. It seems the easiest way to do the raffle with the money going straight to Cancer Research UK. I will not be handling any of the money. All proceeds go straight to Cancer Research UK once you have made your donation via my JustGiving page. Thank you so much for all your donations. I spoke to my sister, Charlotte today, and to my mum, and they both wanted to let you know, they very much appreciate your donations and your support.<br />
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Much love to you through the internet ether,</div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-8028127306176413802014-05-02T22:13:00.000+01:002016-05-01T06:49:40.504+01:00Grace<div style="text-align: center;">
This is Grace.</div>
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I painted her about this time last year. She's the first A3 size canvas I painted. It felt lovely to be able to fill the space and try out different shapes and textures. </div>
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"Grace"</div>
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She was a real labour of love.</div>
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Before doing anything else, I drew and coloured her face so that I could get an idea of who she might be. As weird as it sounds, every lady I draw is completely different and seems to have a personality all her own. I never know what colours the finished picture is going to have. It all depends on what the lady's face looks like.</div>
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So I sat for a while and got a feel for what kind of colour combinations might suit her. That's when the background of the canvas started to take shape. I used vintage sewing patterns, pages from antique books, vintage Japanese washi paper, pastels, acrylic paints and art pens to layer up the background.</div>
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I positioned her face onto the background and started to paint in the details of her body and dress.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6Bk7rhI4vbJnnPafkzxl5BY9jyeGNLU6wM5qFTc45WmAVFcWWCoz1VMJkvkmyejKIgRe1OK6exmlChPKZ7QVNKlQAVvVg3ZXvAfqgsTKMMr48d_-VbGw5OZgVdJycTyELzMc7U_BXQw/s1600/grace5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6Bk7rhI4vbJnnPafkzxl5BY9jyeGNLU6wM5qFTc45WmAVFcWWCoz1VMJkvkmyejKIgRe1OK6exmlChPKZ7QVNKlQAVvVg3ZXvAfqgsTKMMr48d_-VbGw5OZgVdJycTyELzMc7U_BXQw/s1600/grace5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Every dress I paint is different.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhgHuESafDG7JiehxZSexmSVcTlNk_cubzZI3PnNp-9AgVMjq0uFB909-vcWvP61nn-9UQLYUwdykf-UCrnYvu9SB_IffIn6DRBbm_HeHcHezt6fahVuxTv-WiBbFXqRcm34_P0TR4q8/s1600/dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhgHuESafDG7JiehxZSexmSVcTlNk_cubzZI3PnNp-9AgVMjq0uFB909-vcWvP61nn-9UQLYUwdykf-UCrnYvu9SB_IffIn6DRBbm_HeHcHezt6fahVuxTv-WiBbFXqRcm34_P0TR4q8/s1600/dress.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finally, I used art pens to draw in the details. The white dots on her face and the lace of her dress. Adding the final touches.</div>
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Each painting takes time, but I enjoy doing little bits here and there when energy allows, in short bursts. Layering up and playing with colour. It makes my heart smile.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVjEDlC0ClBPm1oCOGS6lEjesppdAGtw0FJouneVcQ7FrNEcV4jlKnYqYiaUVdjl0MNqEMKShzbWTnD2SQNRTRIw7YD0IQurLtmBe98CgMxtgFmvESU9Obe2MHiboFsusH0ukzpa-TAxw/s1600/sharper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVjEDlC0ClBPm1oCOGS6lEjesppdAGtw0FJouneVcQ7FrNEcV4jlKnYqYiaUVdjl0MNqEMKShzbWTnD2SQNRTRIw7YD0IQurLtmBe98CgMxtgFmvESU9Obe2MHiboFsusH0ukzpa-TAxw/s1600/sharper.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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"Grace"</div>
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My sister has one more round of chemotherapy left. Hopefully, by the end of May she will be be able to say that the chemo has finished and she will start to feel better. It has been six long months for her going through this gruelling physical marathon. I had no real concept of what it meant to watch someone endure chemo until seeing my sister go through it. The hurt of watching her suffer and the complete powerlessness I have felt to make any difference at all. She has always been bubbly, feisty and funny, but I had no idea she would be able to make me snort laughing about the indignities of the cancer treatment, or that she would opt not to wear a wig, and instead, boldly and bravely take off her scarf in public. Allowing herself to be truly seen while at her most physically and emotionally vulnerable. She has carried herself with such grace and I am so proud to be her sister.</div>
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When the end of May comes and her chemotherapy treatment is finally over we'll breathe a huge sigh and things will feel lifted. Just in time for Summer. </div>
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Yaaaay!</div>
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With all of that in mind, I opted for a new blog design, based around one of my latest painted ladies, and some of the colours I have used in my mixed-media canvases. In honour of new beginnings, and a bright, happy summer. With huge thanks to Darius for his marvellous computer trickery. </div>
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What do you think? Do you like it?</div>
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How are things with you? </div>
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I hope that you are enjoying your days and that life is treating you kindly.</div>
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With huge love,</div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">♥</span></div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-29349836033467553282014-03-20T17:47:00.000+00:002016-05-01T06:49:56.902+01:00It's Spring!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvHx1pH1LpiNYSkIRMJ242zHtUMfxghLvXgv_LwLp0Of-bEW2TkoJ08_D51TXoJzhiLzaMhUmUwIfc55sbiUnrCagQxAwnWIbWbjpvH348TlhZrMg3iGD_6nctIh8Kb-pm9qYtaaGc30/s1600/10003981_10152233120786855_798696664_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvHx1pH1LpiNYSkIRMJ242zHtUMfxghLvXgv_LwLp0Of-bEW2TkoJ08_D51TXoJzhiLzaMhUmUwIfc55sbiUnrCagQxAwnWIbWbjpvH348TlhZrMg3iGD_6nctIh8Kb-pm9qYtaaGc30/s400/10003981_10152233120786855_798696664_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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Happy first day of Spring.</div>
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Ooh, ooh, and International Day of Happiness.</div>
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I hope you're having a beautiful day wherever you are.</div>
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Sending much love,</div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-85225159963753731382014-03-16T00:19:00.000+00:002016-05-01T06:50:24.531+01:00Breathe In The Beauty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; line-height: 31.420000076293945px;">When it’s over, I want to say: all my life</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; line-height: 31.420000076293945px;">I was a bride married to amazement.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px;">When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">if I have made of my life something particular, and real.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">or full of argument.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px;">I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px;">~ Mary Oliver</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px;">I've drawn another picture for you to colour in. "Breathe in the beauty, breathe out the junk". It's important to remember to do that, I think. Not to let our fears get the better of us and hold us back... Life is full of beauty if we just see it and breathe it in. I've put this picture in the "Free Glitter" section so you can copy it, and have a doodle. With maybe a cuppa? And a wee slab of cake... Go orn. Go orn. I'm going to. </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px;">My sister is more than halfway through her chemotherapy, and is starting to get excited that it will eventually be finished, hopefully by the end of May. Gawd, I love her!</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px;">And spring is here. <span style="color: #990000;">♥</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px;">How are things with you?</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 31.420000076293945px;">Sending you oodles of smiles and a big dollop of love,</span></div>
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</span>Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-25050531324476572552014-02-14T00:30:00.000+00:002016-05-01T06:52:00.149+01:00Sweet ValentineToday we celebrate the day dedicated to love. Love. My favourite word (apart from collywobble).<br />
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When I was growing up, Valentine's day held huge hope for me. I was a teenage romantic and the word love represented romantic love. (I spent the earlier part of my teens sporting a 24 hour shadow on my top lip. A beautifully impressive set of orthodontic braces. A mono-brow. And a slightly bemused look. Romantic love remained a distant dream until I discovered cream bleach and tweezers. I wondered recently if this was just a distorted view of myself I was remembering, and then I found my old school bus pass amongst some bits and bobs. My view of myself was wholly accurate.)</div>
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Now, Valentine's day means something different to me. As an adult, I've learnt that "all love is sweet". Including, if I can manage it, a loving acceptance of myself. Just as I am.<br />
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I like to focus on how much love there is in my life and be very loving to the people around me. I try to do this every day, but more so on Valentine's day. All love is sweet. </div>
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I take a day off from negative self-talk. I let go of all the "I wish my legs were longer, my bottom smaller," self-flagellation and try to only have kinder thoughts towards myself. More "well, hello you's" as I pass by the mirror and fewer screams. </div>
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Sometimes I manage it. </div>
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And painting my nails pillar box red always helps. As well as grabbing my cats, getting cosy under a blanket and watching a good film. With the odd chunk of chocolate here and there. </div>
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I try to do as many loving things as I can on Valentine's day, for myself and other people. Give smiles more. Say "I love you" more. Phone some one I love and share some time hearing them instead of talking. I focus on these things as much as I can every day, but I make a conscious decision to fill Valentine's day with all kinds of love. Because, as far as I can see, love is what this living thing is all about. <br />
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At the end of Valentine's day, I like to grab my cats, give them a good ole squeeze and tell them I love them too. They hate it and their eyes bulge. But as I've mentioned, all love is sweet. Even the eye bulging hugs kind.</div>
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I hope you have a beautifully loving Valentine's day. How do you like to spend yours?</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Lily and the ones she loves</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Lily</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Cuddle a cat 'til their eyes bulge. It helps.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Ck8OHA7Aet5N0SPOnDCBWjfjZAS27_KxVz5fnulEj__qEUeogPm3oMYAyHg1aD7ed5mEJrVtFEoFSgTdjvZ669FRCTQnl5njhlKX6m8i0qlIXx2B4O0s71XJ5M5QIs5vscVBLwpkf08/s1600/slippers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Ck8OHA7Aet5N0SPOnDCBWjfjZAS27_KxVz5fnulEj__qEUeogPm3oMYAyHg1aD7ed5mEJrVtFEoFSgTdjvZ669FRCTQnl5njhlKX6m8i0qlIXx2B4O0s71XJ5M5QIs5vscVBLwpkf08/s1600/slippers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Fancy slippers are very important</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzAm0aXGiok75W6pTHVZrHeK90luXpsv7XbkNOvw1suSj-glkXy_yv3Hw43tJ8XA9mz2_OS0amkdXfDVI4WLxViFCy9mD0CEaPCTScwkY6cAAG-i4JnTJFLIkEvWgma_EFtKIHBBgJ6gE/s1600/copyrightfreddie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzAm0aXGiok75W6pTHVZrHeK90luXpsv7XbkNOvw1suSj-glkXy_yv3Hw43tJ8XA9mz2_OS0amkdXfDVI4WLxViFCy9mD0CEaPCTScwkY6cAAG-i4JnTJFLIkEvWgma_EFtKIHBBgJ6gE/s1600/copyrightfreddie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Surround yourself with fluffy things</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidxnf82lAiEo96_jd8bBXOV8_n0BQdT0WCsgqZ4woIuJAKFMyZmH8JQ4JQN6vGI7KgOBxcHkUPRijj-gnjGZGoKW6Y698jMl8nKkXT8qA6sATwE3kkFDB49cgumutP3iAMpjpSl_xNyfo/s1600/cuddleacat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidxnf82lAiEo96_jd8bBXOV8_n0BQdT0WCsgqZ4woIuJAKFMyZmH8JQ4JQN6vGI7KgOBxcHkUPRijj-gnjGZGoKW6Y698jMl8nKkXT8qA6sATwE3kkFDB49cgumutP3iAMpjpSl_xNyfo/s1600/cuddleacat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>But don't squeeze too tight</b></span></div>
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Sending huge Valentine's day love to you and yours.</div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">♥</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWPqYPj5nKzp3Pv7v2UszSPw4SYZBVvcBW5qpS0VU0z-ebAlSfMsfsWlostUMvt1_olK9IP7rgzoFAqvcwsDS61vnlddY3dBCFAGc_5fS9-Y4x4FVIEdhGrCcObkqzXv5EZrLpjWaLoA/s1600/small+emma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWPqYPj5nKzp3Pv7v2UszSPw4SYZBVvcBW5qpS0VU0z-ebAlSfMsfsWlostUMvt1_olK9IP7rgzoFAqvcwsDS61vnlddY3dBCFAGc_5fS9-Y4x4FVIEdhGrCcObkqzXv5EZrLpjWaLoA/s1600/small+emma.jpg" /></a></div>
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P.S. I've put Lily and her big comfy chair into the "Free Glitter" section, so you can download her for your desk-top screensaver. All I ask is that you don't use her for re-sale purposes. Happy Valentine's day. Sending love. Em x</div>
Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-57787167281456647082014-01-28T11:46:00.000+00:002016-05-01T06:52:33.255+01:00Believe<div style="text-align: center;">
This is what I believe.</div>
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This song is by <a href="http://www.amysteinberg.net/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">Amy Steinberg</span></a>, an American independent songwriter and I love everything about it.</div>
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"I am exactly where I need to be, I need to be exactly where I am."<br />
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"I believe that we are light and we shine."</div>
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Sending you huge love, </div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: x-large;">♥</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJH1ahLuqcsSxjMLUZvdS3wnpqBJuzddomF79kBUx4SuWCE4NWQSyCbv0sJj7wXb58zj1YixV58XisqqOh9y_OXnsKBBaZoisZSK4HaGMcUKyxLPClubvcSMSZZjHfzGZAfDsiBvDaC0/s1600/small+emma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJH1ahLuqcsSxjMLUZvdS3wnpqBJuzddomF79kBUx4SuWCE4NWQSyCbv0sJj7wXb58zj1YixV58XisqqOh9y_OXnsKBBaZoisZSK4HaGMcUKyxLPClubvcSMSZZjHfzGZAfDsiBvDaC0/s1600/small+emma.jpg" /></a></div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-13282206020137394212014-01-14T20:20:00.000+00:002016-05-01T06:53:11.699+01:00My First Pencil PortraitA little while ago, I wrote about how I was practising drawing different facial features in a bid to be able to put them all together and create a portrait that didn't have any cubist elements to it. You can read about my attempts <a href="http://mimiandtilly.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/eye-eye.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">here</span></a>. <br />
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After managing to master the intricacies of drawing lips, eyes, a nose and ears, I took the plunge and drew a portrait. This was actually in the spring of last year, but, for anyone who's been reading my blog for a while, you'll know that the proverbial c**p hit the fan in May last year, with a multitude of things happening throughout the summer that meant that my blog had to take a back seat, while I navigated the series of "Unfortunate Events" Lemony Snickett style. You can read about that <a href="http://mimiandtilly.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/hello-winter-hello-friends.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">here</span></a>.<br />
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So, in a bid to "catch you up" with what I drew last year, here are the pencil studies of the facial features...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjxt6SaLZM5S4HPAI1H_JFRiiVNqPKV2EpRzmzUvTlsYHRcGE-KA1lNDRrcUtdDIkUuku0i9VppD3ITMFpgyq6BVQrwzqzKS4izzNHEi1JC-p7zuoEPQosq6UQhlxkJdtAEH38A0s_9Sk/s1600/mouth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjxt6SaLZM5S4HPAI1H_JFRiiVNqPKV2EpRzmzUvTlsYHRcGE-KA1lNDRrcUtdDIkUuku0i9VppD3ITMFpgyq6BVQrwzqzKS4izzNHEi1JC-p7zuoEPQosq6UQhlxkJdtAEH38A0s_9Sk/s320/mouth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And here is my first pencil portrait. Her name is Abigail.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicU1R61BR7SmXTtPa9CQD2t6jdjcxHc-8Ch-jRtae3et0fKNrX5PK0HF2G3UU10gR6bS8JWLu0tTDbMT4Sy0njyWL_UX1AJY8pgS3ceV3jvsQzC7uaFoEiZff958CyX9p5LrH1bE9yc8Y/s1600/abigailmimi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicU1R61BR7SmXTtPa9CQD2t6jdjcxHc-8Ch-jRtae3et0fKNrX5PK0HF2G3UU10gR6bS8JWLu0tTDbMT4Sy0njyWL_UX1AJY8pgS3ceV3jvsQzC7uaFoEiZff958CyX9p5LrH1bE9yc8Y/s640/abigailmimi.jpg" width="468" /></a></div>
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I drew Abigail with the help of a library book all about how to draw portraits. She took several days. Due to energy being a very precious commodity for me, I had to work on her in short bursts, and take "energy breaks" to sleep and rest up, (my energy doesn't last too long when concentrating or sitting in one position! Boo!) But, I'm learning to listen to my body and be gentle with myself and I have very happy memories of being completely surprised as she started to appear on the page. <br />
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I still can't believe I drew her!<br />
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How are you doing with your creative adventures?<br />
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Sending much love through the internet ether.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJH1ahLuqcsSxjMLUZvdS3wnpqBJuzddomF79kBUx4SuWCE4NWQSyCbv0sJj7wXb58zj1YixV58XisqqOh9y_OXnsKBBaZoisZSK4HaGMcUKyxLPClubvcSMSZZjHfzGZAfDsiBvDaC0/s1600/small+emma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJH1ahLuqcsSxjMLUZvdS3wnpqBJuzddomF79kBUx4SuWCE4NWQSyCbv0sJj7wXb58zj1YixV58XisqqOh9y_OXnsKBBaZoisZSK4HaGMcUKyxLPClubvcSMSZZjHfzGZAfDsiBvDaC0/s1600/small+emma.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-84909749880541168792014-01-04T15:43:00.001+00:002016-05-22T21:09:41.197+01:00The Best Postman In The World<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">I have the best postman in the world. He's called Phil and gives me a smile and a wave every day as he goes past my house.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">He laughs and jokes with me whenever I need to sign for anything. He's an all round decent bloke who, in small ways that I'm sure he has no idea about, makes a difference to my days. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">He knocked on the door this morning to drop off a book I'd ordered, and I got a chance to give him his "Thank you for being so great" Christmas present. We got chatting and during the chat he said to me...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">"You won't see me for a few months now, Emma, I'm going to Afghanistan for nine months. I'll be back in September. My little girl is 8 years old so she's old enough for me to go. I've been wanting to do this for years but the last chance I got to go my little girl was only 2, and if anything happened to me she wouldn't remember me. She's old enough now, so I've decided to go. I've been in the Territorial Army for years and I want to make a difference. I'll be at Camp Bastion."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">In the smallest moments of any day, you never know when you're going to have a moment that touches your heart. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">Every day I've seen him, and smiled and waved back, having no idea that he was harbouring this dream. Or that he'd have to wait until his little girl was old enough to remember him before he could fulfil it. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">I asked him how he felt about going and he said, "Hopefully I'll be OK."</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">It was the moment he said those words and I saw a quick shadow of doubt go across his face, that I understood how much going to Afghanistan mattered to him, and how difficult it had been to make the decision to go. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">I'm going to miss his wave and smile as he goes past each day, and will think about him over the next few months and hope he's keeping safe. I have the best postman in the world.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span>Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-45105882663971472502013-12-04T20:28:00.000+00:002016-05-01T06:59:55.303+01:00Christmas Colouring InAt 45 years of age, I know that Christmas in December shouldn't come as a surprise to me. But each year in September I think, "Right, autumn is on it's way. THIS year I'm going to be so organised. I'm going to have Christmas sorted by November 5th."<br />
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And then, I enter some kind of trance. My mind occupied with thoughts of cracking out my big pants now that the cold weather has arrived, and my time spent grumbling about how cold my butt cheeks get, never warming up 'til mid-June. Then, generally around 3 weeks before Christmas, I snap out of my Cold Weather Coma and my thought patterns go something like this...<br />
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"Sweet Christmas Pudding and all the Pine Cones! Where the eff did October and November go? I need to do some Christmas shopping. Oh, for the love of tinsel, where did I put those Christmas cards I bought back in January?"</div>
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Just to let you know I came out of my Cold Weather Coma today and after mentally doing a "Chicken Licken" for a good few minutes, I realised I had itchy art fingers again. </div>
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So, I decided to do some doodling in my art journal. And this is what appeared on the page...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2TvxxQfHQ6F0P-PLbvveJEwWcbISwiwBxbm36CmQgFVhcE01l-hdhDsaz5AqHMD3vGoaY86578s8mraOotFOVNv_ktYoKyvDEHQewaZokKIxUd5kmzz0Mn7iuVow3c1q8SNyeYRWuNno/s1600/christmaswreath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2TvxxQfHQ6F0P-PLbvveJEwWcbISwiwBxbm36CmQgFVhcE01l-hdhDsaz5AqHMD3vGoaY86578s8mraOotFOVNv_ktYoKyvDEHQewaZokKIxUd5kmzz0Mn7iuVow3c1q8SNyeYRWuNno/s640/christmaswreath.jpg" width="588" /></a></div>
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A Christmas wreath.</div>
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The preparations for Christmas can be stressful for everyone. What better way to relax than with a pile of coloured pens and a wee spot of colouring in? I've never lost my love of colouring in and I figure a lot of other folk out there haven't either... <span style="color: #990000;">♥</span></div>
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So, feel very free to print off and colour in this Christmas wreath. To help you chill out on long winter nights once the children are in bed. Or to colour in with the children as a lovely Christmas decoration for your home. You could get really creative and turn it into small Christmas cards, or decorations for your tree, or link several small ones together to make a dangling "string of wreaths" or wreath bunting! I'd love to see what you create.</div>
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You're welcome to use my wreath drawing in whatever creative way helps you chill out. A gift from me to you. If you're a teacher, feel very free to photocopy it for your class to get them practising their fine motor skills in the wind-down to the Christmas holidays. All I ask is that you don't use my wreath art for re-sale purposes. </div>
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Sending love and Christmas happiness to your neck of the woods.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHfaHgYxftTpmitsdDCEAyp5r-RTyjIBkPDNFrm3ifRSthkPiQ1i9Aad1h4XdI6eNSmY2JuFbtmUagTVA8VhvEQ5L-Yw5DVmInuRGZTajnZLdGWMGbVmBSE75CEhNvkuzJtYXwGjnEIhE/s1600/small+emma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHfaHgYxftTpmitsdDCEAyp5r-RTyjIBkPDNFrm3ifRSthkPiQ1i9Aad1h4XdI6eNSmY2JuFbtmUagTVA8VhvEQ5L-Yw5DVmInuRGZTajnZLdGWMGbVmBSE75CEhNvkuzJtYXwGjnEIhE/s1600/small+emma.jpg" /></a></div>
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Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-56342282019770638632013-04-10T17:28:00.000+01:002016-05-01T07:01:51.869+01:00Eye EyeThank you for all your warm words, support and feedback. I love reading your comments. You make a big difference to me on this creative journey and I really appreciate your coming by to see what I've been up to.<br />
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Eric and Ernie are enjoying playing out in the garden now that the weather has warmed up a bit, and I've been taking a cuppa, my art journal and a cluster of pencils out with me into the garden to sketch for a few minutes while I watch them play. I love the fresh, cool air.<br />
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I like to sit with my bare feet on the grass. It's freezing, so it wakes me the heck up, but it also feels good. I read somewhere once, I can't remember where, that when we walk barefoot on the ground we are connected to all the animals out in the world that are doing the same. I like to think of all the big, lollopy lions who are out there somewhere treading barefoot on the ground too.<br />
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Yes. These are the kinds of thoughts that roll round my head. Nervous?<br />
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I'm on to my next drawing ambition.<br />
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To draw a detailed portrait. Showing light and shade, full features. Without the person looking as if they are gurning...<br />
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So, in preparation, I've begun doing detailed pencil studies of different facial features. Starting with an eye.<br />
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If you're a bit queasy about close-ups of an eye, step back from your desk now...<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Scan of drawing</span></div>
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I used a simple HB, alongside two coloured pencils in black and grey. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimGk-NdhIPVGBubUu4W-nfDtga31PeWJbAZUmXWFGYBfV3Q3Bgbv-Yypk9CAN4djFlWywJQ4jmMV2si_B-GeyEBiuhSMpgca2KVcuomOAZ3GVeDrsrsvCScOWOZxzzkfa0IVIr4Pl08Vk/s1600/602081_10151510511261855_947554106_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimGk-NdhIPVGBubUu4W-nfDtga31PeWJbAZUmXWFGYBfV3Q3Bgbv-Yypk9CAN4djFlWywJQ4jmMV2si_B-GeyEBiuhSMpgca2KVcuomOAZ3GVeDrsrsvCScOWOZxzzkfa0IVIr4Pl08Vk/s400/602081_10151510511261855_947554106_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo of drawing</span></div>
<span style="font-size: normal;">I'm off now to have a go at a nose, ear, mouth and eyebrow. This whole exercise feels like some twisted Mr. Potatohead game!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: normal;">What have you been up to?</span><br />
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6htLCLQPYXUovIzQXCNnkNZpeSeStgf27nt281oxMeTyQKrLJt4PDx66xo9Y9DDpQUL4qKhyM-2t4hC0CQMxaFBZOrOvwEwTOeT43hZQSDEe3ZzzHC29Esskp1zdUXxD2ArMhcJxBMk/s1600/96887ee10f6aacec11a059c96c20636e.png" />Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427118246454500794.post-44261816718882032142013-03-28T16:21:00.000+00:002016-05-01T07:03:07.723+01:00Something MagicalI've always been a bit of a thinker. <br />
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I can remember being 6 or 7 years old and pondering the age old questions "Why are we here?" and "Do we get more than one go at being here?" I remember very clearly being in the back of the car, with my parents up front driving along the motorway, pondering these thoughts as I looked out of the window. Y'know, the way you do.<br />
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It doesn't take much for me to find myself having a good old ponder about something or other that's popped into my head. Pulling at the proverbial thought string and then tying myself up in knots, 'til I come out the other end, either feeling a lot clearer about something or being absolutely none the wiser. I genuinely like thinking.<br />
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Since getting ill, the one thing that I've had in abundance, is time to think. And one of the things I've realised is that there can be a lot of stuff rolling round in my mind that perhaps isn't always doing me any favours.<br />
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When your body won't do what you want it to do, the very means by which you move through life becomes out of your control. Life itself feels much more fragile, much less safe. Things become very basic. The small things in life become mountains to climb. Especially when you're experiencing pain and physical discomfort.<br />
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Before I got ill, if I was feeling a bit blue, I'd get myself into the great outdoors and go for a good walk. Pondering all the lovely things I was seeing along the way. Birds, flowers, leaves, the sunshine. Or I'd take a dance class, go swimming, or rock climbing. Generally do something physically demanding until I felt lifted again. It worked well, and I never had any weight issues as the more I worried about stuff, the more physical exercise I did.<br />
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Not much of an option when you haven't got enough energy to scratch an itch...<br />
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At the beginning of last year when I was feeling particularly overwhelmed I started doodling, as a way of passing the time, and keeping myself upbeat. It's very easy to get very low, and find yourself feeling worried, isolated and alone if you let your thoughts run away with you. And my thoughts were running away with me. I realised I needed to find a new way of expressing myself that didn't involve high kicks.<br />
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Drawing and painting were the love of my life, alongside ballet, when I was a child. I took art as an exam subject whilst at school and struggled to understand what was expected of me by the exam board and teachers at school. I passed my art exams but in the process lost a lot of confidence in my abilities. Picking up pens and pencils and committing anything to paper became a bit of an issue for me. Was I doing it right? Was what I was drawing any good? I had somehow become really critical of my own drawing and painting skills and couldn't seem to let go of those critical ideas. <br />
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Last year, scared stiff and feeling vulnerable, I decided it was time to let go of the bully inside my head who was giving me a really hard time whenever I wanted to draw or paint anything. I picked up pens and pencils and started to get what ever was in my head out onto the paper without thinking about whether it was any good or not. My only plan? To fill the paper with fun and colour.<br />
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Something magical started to happen. No matter how overwhelmed I was feeling, no matter how many scary thoughts were floating around in my head, when I picked up my art journal and started to doodle, my mind calmed down. So I kept picking up the pens, even if only for short blocks of time.<br />
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Very unexpectedly, and to my great delight, I discovered I had found something that gives me as much joy as dancing ever did.<br />
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But I still had a nagging doubt at the back of my mind. "You've never painted on canvas. Artists paint on canvas. What if you can't do that?"<br />
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As a result of this persistent doubt, I'd never painted on canvas in case I was s**t at it and I would then have to let go of my dream of "really" being able to draw and paint. Waving it off sadly, while blowing my nose noisily into a lace-lined hanky, and silently sobbing to myself. I'm nothing if not quietly dramatic.<br />
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Then, in January, I thought, "Screw that! If I never put a paintbrush onto canvas I'm never going to know. I might very well be ruddy bloody good at it."<br />
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So I sat down and over the past few weeks, I've had a go on three small canvases I had in my house.<br />
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Have you ever found that a huge fear you had was completely unfounded?<br />
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6htLCLQPYXUovIzQXCNnkNZpeSeStgf27nt281oxMeTyQKrLJt4PDx66xo9Y9DDpQUL4qKhyM-2t4hC0CQMxaFBZOrOvwEwTOeT43hZQSDEe3ZzzHC29Esskp1zdUXxD2ArMhcJxBMk/s1600/96887ee10f6aacec11a059c96c20636e.png" />Mimi and Tillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01538674717041795218noreply@blogger.com26