Being Thankful

This week I am thankful for all sorts of awesome things; many of which I cannot write about here. But there are several things I can write about!

• I am thankful that I went to my friend's dinner party last Friday evening. I got my sister to baby sit, but I felt rubbish and really just wanted to go to bed. I sat here at my desk trying to psyche myself up to leave the house and trudge across town in the rain... but then once I got there, I had a fabulous time and talked to some really interesting people.
• I'm thankful that I believe in synchronicity and the power of coincidence. Some very... synchronous things have happened to and around me lately, and it's all been quite amazing to witness.
• I'm thankful, as ever, for my beautiful S who is a shining light in my life and makes me feel lucky to be alive every single day.
• I am grateful for all the shitty things that have happened in my life, because they have led me right to this point, which is where I needed to be.

This is a linky, and I would love it if you would link up any positive post you have written this week.

The Secret... is it to be a Mum?

I watched The Secret a few years ago... and I read the book. Then I had a nervous breakdown, and forgot all about it.

Just recently, I've been reminded of it. My sister bought me The Secret Daily Teachings for Christmas, and I've been reading through it. Then I realised The Secret was on Netflix, so I watched it a couple of times.

For those who don't know, The Secret is about the Law of Attraction. The basic principle is that if you concentrate on the bad things in your life, you will attract more bad things. But if you focus on the good, you attract more good. The experts in the book and the movie say that this is more based on your feeling than your thought. So when you feel great about everything, more great things will happen. There's a bit where they say you should try to feel more love, as you then attract more love to you.

This made me think... I don't think I really knew what love even was until I had S. That absolute, definite knowledge that I would lay down my life for her. That constant feeling of "ohmygodyouresoperfecthowthehelldidImakeanythingthisawesomeyouareamazing." I miss her when she's at nursery. Sometimes when I go to bed at night I want to wake her up just to give her an extra cuddle. I live for that smile.

So it's safe to say that I'm feeling more love in my life than I ever have before.

And I'm also experiencing more awesomeness in my life than I ever have before.

So perhaps the Secret is to have a shitty time, and then a baby and more of a shitty time. And then awesomeness will rain down upon you.

Just a thought.

What Does My Underwear Say About Me?

I've had a few deep-and-meaningful chats lately with various people, about my plans for the future, my past, the way I feel about myself.

The other day, I was talking to a lady who lived in Australia for a number of years, returning in May last year. I mentioned Primark, and she had no idea what I was talking about.

I explained to her: it's a shop where all the clothes are really cheap, but not fabulously made. She pulled a face. I told her it was good for stocking up on t shirts and underwear or if you needed a cheap pair of jeans. She pulled another face. I said it was good if you were thinking of trying out a new style or trend and didn't want to waste a lot of money if you weren't sure. She pulled a face.

Eventually she said, "do you really think so badly of yourself, that you would only spend £2.50 on underwear for yourself? Are you not worth a bit more?"

I think perhaps she makes a valid point.

I used to buy a lot of underwear. I unconsciously stopped wearing my beautiful matching sets when I started seeing the ex. It wasn't something I realised I had done until recently. It sounds silly, but I didn't want to wear my nice underwear in his house. Then I got pregnant, then I was breastfeeding, and now I'm a completely different size. I can't bring myself to throw any of it away, so I have a black bag filled with gorgeous underwear sets in the back of my cupboard upstairs. 

Underwear from a Previous Life

For the last couple of years, I have been buying multi-packs of plain black pants in Primark, and just wearing those. I have a drawer filled with just plain black pants. Literally nothing else. Last time I went to Primark, I branched out a little and bought a patterned set instead - but still the cheapest, nastiest underwear you can get. After speaking to my friend, I went and found all my lovely underwear in the back of my cupboard. The bras are useless to me now, but some of the knickers still fit - and look and feel a hundred times better than the boring black ones!

During my conversation with this lady, we also talked about where I live. For those who don't know, I live in a first-floor maisonette on a council estate. It is arguably the "roughest" council estate in this area (this is a very affluent area so it's not gangland warfare or anything) and has certainly always had the worst reputation. I've a friend who moved to this estate from Fulham in the 1980s, and wondered what the hell he had let himself in for. I don't like it here.  But when I moved here, I didn't have a great deal of choice over where I lived - and I was pretty much at rock bottom, confidence-wise. When I moved in here, I was little more than a puppet with someone else pulling the strings. This lady's opinion was the same as with the underwear - I clearly didn't value myself very much when I moved in here. She's right, of course. 

So perhaps she's right about Primark as well. Perhaps I should value myself a little more highly than paying £2.50 for 5 pairs of plain black pants. Perhaps I should aim a little higher than jeans that are cheap but don't fit well, or tops that are cheap but lose their shape quickly and look awful. It's all very well saying "but I have a toddler..." but should I really wear exclusively shit clothing just in case some poster paint is splashed in my direction? I think not!

The other week, I went to a local independent underwear shop and spent what I would consider to be a small fortune on one bra. One bra that was fitted by a lady so good at her job, she didn't even have a tape measure on the counter, much less around her neck. She took one look at me, went into the stock room and came out with a beautiful, coral-coloured bra that fit me perfectly. When I wear it, I stand straighter. I know I look good, even with a cheap jumper over the top of my fabulous bra.

Perhaps I shall do this more often. Perhaps my friend is right. 

What is your underwear saying about you?