It’s my favourite day. Sunday for me is the start of the weekend. It’s a lazy day in which I rest before the onslaught of a busy week. As I was lying in The jacuzzi I realised that I was thinking about what I was going to do next and it dawned on me that I do that a lot. I am always living in the next task, instead of being in the current moment. There is always a lot to do, but why waste time on the future when I could be enjoying such a wonderful treat now. So I stopped. I looked around me. The sun was shining, there was a gentle breeze, the Palm trees looked amazing against the sky, the water was warm and I was sharing precious time with my husband. Today I spent longer in the jacuzzi than I have since the summer, because I decided I didn’t need to rush to do something else. Result… More contentment.

Since getting out and drying off, I have still done everything I set my mind to do today. So nothing lost and everything gained.

My husband’s new publicity poster is photoshopped and completed. I have ironed sheets and put them on our bed. Nothing nicer than clean sheets, I have typed up another chapter of my book and now I am blogging while my husband cooks dinner. We have rung both Mums and caught up with their news so all is well with the world.

Today I was struck by a new idea for a book, so now I have 4 in my head. I can’t write fast enough, but I am very happy to be back writing. There is a wonderful release in putting words together. It allows me to be creative and I can express any emotion I am feeling without making it about me. The scary thing is, the more I write, the more ideas I have. I just hope that I am a good enough writer so people want to read more. That’s going to be the crux of the matter.

Watch this space…..

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Life’s rich tapestry

Once again, it’s been ages since I wrote anything.  It seems I have to be in the right place to write.  When life becomes too busy or difficult, it seems that I cannot put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard.  I am now trying to remember why I started to write a blog and to reinstate the feelings that writing gave me.  I felt that this year was going to be the year for upward movement, but here I am at the beginning of February and nothing has progressed.  In order not to loose momentum, I am forcing myself to type up my book and edit where I think it needs it.  I thought, in my infinite wisdom, that if I wrote my book on my iPad, I could take it everywhere with me and add to it as I pleased.  The fun part about that decision is that I was writing it in a format that cannot be transferred to word on my laptop, hence, re typing the last 15 chapters. Luckily, I am a fast typer so it shouldn’t take too long.  Whilst doing this though, the story is not progressing and that makes me a little frustrated.

I have come to the conclusion that the reason I cannot find time to write, is there is not enough time in the day.  Even over the Christmas period when I had time off, the days still flew past with nothing achieved apart from cooking, cleaning and the laundry, so I am going to have a word with him upstairs and ask him to add a few hours. Do you think it will work?

So here I am again, making a deal with myself to write every day.  I may not be on a blog, but this or my book is going to be an added priority.  Surprising how cathartic just writing these few words has already been.

I must not loose my connection to myself.  I must follow my dream of finishing this book and getting it published.  The sequel is all in my head waiting to be let out.  I need to push forward and not let anything get in my way.  Is that easier said than done, I wonder?

 

Soya versus cancer

As usual this morning, as soon as I awoke, I reached for my iPad and logged into Facebook.  Reading down all the new posts, I came across one that was  originally added by Health digest and is entitled Latest Cancer Information by John Hopkins.

As I am a complete health nutcase and do believe that we are what we eat,  I am always interested in what these articles say.  I have also lost a lot of relatives to cancer, including my father, so any information on a cure, is a must read for me.

To be honest, there was nothing in the article that was new to me.  It talks of the occurrence of cancer cells that naturally occur in the body and that our immune system, if built up using the correct nutrition, can fight and kill these cells.  It goes on to explain that someone experiencing cancer is nutritionally deficient in many areas and changing the diet can bring about a cure, whereas chemo and radio therapy causes scarring and is poisonous to the human body.  It goes on to recommend food substances that can help.  Most I agree with but not soya. Never soya.

Years ago, I read a lot of articles about cancer and it causes.  I also met someone who was given 6 weeks to live because his body was riddled with cancer.  The fact that I met him 2 years after that death sentence and after he healed himself using a macro biotic diet, instilled in me the knowledge that our westernised diet is possibly not the healthiest.

At the time I lived in the Uk and had access to plentiful organic produce.  I bought a book about detoxing and found by following that and staying on a vegan diet, I felt healthier, happier in myself and was able to loose weight.  I was so wrapped up in my new found health regime that I believed nothing could touch me.  In a way I was right because for 3 years I was never ill.  Not even a cough, cold or sniffle.

I was appearing in Pantomine as Prince Charming in Cinderella over Christmas of  2002.  I was a very young looking 38 year old and had the legs needed to play the part. My husband was one of the ugly sisters alongside his brother -also and entertainer- and we were having a ball.  During the time, I experienced my usual monthly event, but I never had a problem in that area, so continued as normal.  It progressed in its normal way and after a couple of days had gone, or so I thought.  One night after the show, upon returning home, I experienced something I hadn’t before.  On getting out the car, I felt a rush of liquid and on running to the toilet found all of my nether regions, pants and trousers covered in clots of blood and the next eight years, every month continued in this way.

It was horrendous. Every month was filled with dread for that time of the month.  It  loomed at me and filled me with fear.  Many a time, I ran away from a social evening in order to save my dignity.  Medical examinations found that I had a fibroid in my womb and because it was touching the inner wall, it was causing these problems.  The doctor prescribes a pill that I would take on the first day and that would lessen the flow to some extent.  It wasn’t perfect but it helped me avoid a hysterectomy, which was my worst fear.

There was no education as to what caused it or what could help it naturally.  It was purely what medication could help the problem, so I struggled on.

In 2005 we moved to Spain and I continued to have problems.  My stomach was larger than before as the fibroid continued to grow and people often asked when the baby was due.  Once, on a flight, I was told that I couldn’t sit in an emergency exit seat, because pregnant women weren’t allowed to open the doors if there was an emergency landing. It was very embarrassing.  In the end I started saying, “I am not pregnant, just fat.” As it was easier than explaining that I had a medical problem.

After another trip to the gynecologist, I was telling my female neighbour that I may need a hysterectomy.  She questioned me closely and I told her most of the details.  She went inside her house and then presented me with a book. It was entitled “What your doctor will not tell you about menopause.” by Dr John Reed MD.  She explained that a friend of hers from the USA had exactly the same problem as me and that she had cured herself using the methods in this book.  Also my neighbour had been diagnosed with osteoporosis about 6 years ago and was healthy because of this book.

The book was an eye opener and I urge every woman on the planet to read it.  Many of our women’s problems are caused by our bodies becoming oestrogen dominant.  It’s a state that occurs when we stop ovulating and producing progesterone.  Drugs companies who produce HRT  to combat symptoms of menopause bombard women with more oestrogen and women who are diagnosed with osteoporosis are also prescribed drugs containing the same.  When our bodies become oestrogen dominant, we can develop breast cancer, ovarian, uterian and cervical cancer.  Polycystic ovaries and fibroids can also result from this.

The book advocated the use of progesterone cream and I started to use it.  It was brilliant.  Although it didn’t cure me, it helped so much.  My neighbour with osteoporosis had been told she would be in wheelchair in 5 years, but she was defying all the doctors by being perfectly healthy and exercising normally with no degradation of her bones.  Wonderful, I hear you cry.

Well, no.  Eventually I had to give in and have a hysterectomy because after 8 years of battling it, I was weary, very anaemic and desperate for an end to the worry.  My fibroid had continued to grow and I looked 6 months pregnant.  I think even the doctors were relieved when I finally had it done.  Thankfully, I have been very healthy since then although I continue with the progesterone treatment.

It was the birth of my grandson that brought me the final bit of information I needed to explain why I hadn’t been able to shrink my fibroid.  He had a problem with formula milk and as his sister experienced the same when she was a baby, we moved him onto soya milk.  If formula milk was a problem it was insignificant to the problems he had with soya.  It was terrible, so being me, I logged on to the internet to do my research.  There was website after website that warned against men drinking soya milk.  Why?  Because soya is a natural oestrogen and feeding a baby boy soya milk was equivalent to him taking 5 contraceptive pills a day.

Needless to say, we took him off it straight away, but the shock to me was without president.  All the years I had been battling my fibroid whilst eating a vegan healthy diet was being countermanded by my intake of soya.  I drank it as a milk, ate it in its tofu form, it is in 60% of all manufactured food. It is rife.  The tropical rain forests are being cleared to make room to grow more soya than any other product, so our planet is also paying a high price for this so called healthy food.

So, my advice to anyone is to boycott soya.  It is NOT the health food it is made out to be.  In fact, it is the opposite in my book.  It promotes cancer, premenopausal and menopausal problems, and can cause infertility in men.  I will never eat this stuff knowingly again and wish that there was more education for the people that do.  It’s all there in black and white for anyone willing to look.

 

 

 

A Life of Sundays

It’s Sunday, she thought as she opened her eyes.

Sundays, as a child, had always been mind blowingly boring.  Apart from helping to cook Sunday lunch and the long winded trip to church, the day seemed to drag on forever.  There was too much time spent in the company of irritated parents who couldn’t wait to get the kids back to school the following day.  A childhood full of disappointing Sundays.

Sundays as an older teenager and young twenties, was spent sleeping and recouperating from the crazy partying that seem to accompany that age.   If enough time was passed in sleep, the monotony of the day never broke through the drink addled haze.  If there was a boyfriend on the scene, the afternoons would find her lips glued to his or slouched on the sofa, watching a movie. Sunday was a wasted day.

When the children came along, Sundays were a crazy day.  There was little chance of a lie in as there was always someone ready to bounce on the bed, shout “Mummy, I’m hungry.” Or  “Mummy, look what she’s done!” Or a high pitched wail as someone got their fingers caught in the door again. The only chance of the day not being spent in a state of mayhem, was to take the cherubs out and let them run off some of their pent up energy.  Sundays were exhausting.

Sundays with teenagers was different again.  Time was spent standing at the bottom of the stairs, either yelling for them to get out of their lazy beds or trying to be heard above the sound of the latest music craze.  There was the inevitable “Is your homework done?” followed by the excuses as to why it wasn’t, the ensuing argument and the “I hate you.” stomp up the stairs and slam of the bedroom door, shaking the whole house off it’s foundations.  Sundays were spent praying for Monday morning to arrive early.

Then came the Sunday when the front door closed for the final time. The car packed with boxes, pulled off the drive as the last child disappeared to their own home.  After years of looking after so many people, nothing could prepare her for the devastation of no longer having anyone to care for.  Sundays were silent, eerie and sad.

It’s Sunday, she thought as she opened her eyes.  Today is a day full of possibilities.  The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the garden is full of flowers. There is music to play and art to behold, dogs to walk, books to read. What shall I do today? She smiled. I think I shall do everything I want to.  Sunday is my day.

.com

Although my blog is not quite a week old, I have decided to go for it and purchased the domain name of Discoveryandachievement.com, so now I am a .com and very excited.

I always thought I would enjoy blogging and I am surprised by how much I love it.  It was started to see if it would improve my happy state and it has.  It is a pleasure every day receive emails from the site to say someone has either enjoyed something I have written or decided to follow me.  I find it remarkable that there are so many like minded people out there.

Today is only a short blog as it is my day off and I intend to spend the rest of the day in the pool or jacuzzi with my husband, or writing my novel, for which I have renewed enthusiasm and the perfect plot line.

Happy Sunday everyone.

A little night reading

She sat behind the heavy brown curtain.  It was a big risk to sit there and she was nervous, but the book pulled her in.

It was way past bedtime, a balmy summers evening and far too bright to sleep.  The light crept through the sides, top and bottom of the curtains, beckoning.  The words of the book under her bed whispered so loudly that she almost couldn’t help but slip from her covers and crouch down in the window bay.

She had no idea how long she had been there but the pins and needles in her knees told her it had been some time.  Mr Galiano’s Circus took her to places she could only dream of.  How lucky was the little boy to have become a part of this circus, to live in a caravan and move from place to place.  To see clowns and trapeze artists, to work with elephants and eat as much candy floss as he could ever want.

Her escape into the book was almost total until she heard a door open and then close.  She held her breath as someone climbed the stairs.  She knew if she ran back to bed, they would hear and the game would be up.  She held her breath.  Would the footsteps stop at another bedroom door or would they continue on to the bathroom next door.  Would they come into her room and discover an empty bed.

“Please go past, please don’t come in.” She whispered as a mantra over and over.

She could feel the panic rising from the pit of her stomach.  If it was Dad, it would be ok.  He would quietly but firmly tell her to get back into bed and go to sleep.  She would too, but knew he would be so disappointed in her, that the guilt would be unbearable.  Really though, it was unlikely that Dad would even bother to come into her room.  She didn’t really exist for him anyway.

Oh, but if it was Mum! Any minute all hell could break lose.  There would be screaming and shouting. The whole house would be woken and everyone would know that she had been caught doing something else wrong.  She knew the beating that would follow. The punishment always far outstripped the crime.

Time stood still for an eternity.  There was no air entering or leaving her lungs as she repeated her mantra.  “Please, please, please.”

The footsteps carried their owner nearer and nearer.  Why hadn’t she stayed in bed? Why did she always think she was going to get away with it?  Closer and closer. Then… The bathroom door opened and closed again and she heard the toilet seat go down.  She allowed herself a silent drag of air to fill her lungs and as quietly as she could extracted herself  from the window bay.  She tiptoed raggedly, on pained legs, across the room, book in hand and slipped once more between the sheets.  She stuffed the book underneath the pillow and prayed that she hadn’t been heard.  She lay in the silence listening to her heart pumping.

The fear only subsided when the footsteps descended the stairs.  She was safe for now.  Till the next time.

She lay in her bed on a balmy summers evening.  Fingers of light crept through the curtain and Mr Galiano’s circus called from under her pillow.  She crept from her bed to the bay of the window and pleaded with the darkness to stay away until she read at least one more chapter.