Christmas time is my favourite time of year. A time for new beginnings, reconciliation and hope. A time where we reflect on the year that’s passed and usually hope that the new year brings better things.
As the oldest of four children I felt privileged that I had my beautiful parents longer than my siblings did. Brought up with very few pennies but lots of love always made me full of gratitude that Bill and Ena had once again put themselves through endless worry and stress to provide us kids with the perfect day. Especially good given that my poor mum Ena had severe anxiety and bad nerves for most of our childhood. My dad was kind, caring and supportive and at times I was annoyed with him for indulging her and cross with her for being sad. What was her problem! I always saw anxiety and depression as tremendous weakness and often resisted the urge to tell her to get a grip.
How terrible was that. I understood more as I got older about her disposition but still wasn’t really sure why people let silly little things get them down.
I was lucky, I was strong – life had made me strong. My life experiences had ensured that I coped with things others would never have to cope with, I saw things that some may never see in a lifetime – but that was fine cos I was strong. I always maintained that my gift and Norman ensured that whatever life dealt me, I would be fine.
That was until March this year when I had a breakdown. I couldn’t cope with everyday life, with things that I coped with every other day before that day. What was happening to me. I spiralled out of control and into the depths of despair. Why? Why me? What was going on. I was meant to be the prop, the supporter of others. I was too tired to even consider why. Over the following months I worked and functioned and eventually pulled myself together with the help of the people who love me (you all know who you are).
When on a saner footing I have asked through meditation why that episode had to happen. I am told it was so that I could learn the higher love of compassion. How could I possibly know how my poor mother felt unless I felt it too. So ok why had it happened – easy! I had spent too much time and energy being kind to others and not enough time being kind to myself.
We always remember the things we regret the bad things we’ve done and yet we fail to remember the good deeds we do on a daily basis. The times that we’ve listened, helped and healed when we perhaps need those things ourselves. Being kind to others is admirable – being kind to yourself is essential for mental health wellbeing.
So this Christmas time think about the loved ones lost who would say if they were here “look after yourself, I’m worried about you”. Take their advice. You are of no use to anyone if your broken, in pieces. We all love those Christmas movies with happy endings. Make your life have a happy ending and know that those we love who are absent want those happy endings for us.
We all know someone who is struggling right now. Don’t let them crash before you help. Step in, prevent it if you can. I was inspired to write this because of a lovely friend who’s having a real hard time at the moment. Be kind to yourself sweetheart, surround yourself with positive people who love you and want to help and know that your Angels are doing everything in their power to lift you.
Blessings
Julie xx