I thought about my life: about how I arrived at this place, in this room, at this moment, alone with my thoughts. I pondered how far I’ve come in this past decade: from a place of extreme sadness, fear, helplessness, anger and injustice, to the current feelings of strength, wisdom, contentedness, acceptance and peace. I had been unable to change my fate: the inability to have a child. So, slowly but surely, over time – in stages so tiny and gradual as to be almost imperceptible until I look back at them retrospectively over this lengthy period – I came to terms with my situation.

I can finally see all the great things that I am, rather than focusing on that one thing I’m not: a mother. And I thought that sharing this seismic shift in perception might be useful to someone else currently struggling to see a future and find a way out of that dark maze of pain. So I sat up in my bed and wrote this poem. Always remember: you are unique, special and worthy. You are enough. You will get through this, and come out stronger than you ever thought possible. You will not only survive; you will thrive.

Badass Superstar

I’ll never be a mother

Is a statement that has taken

A decade for me to speak aloud

And even now, I’m shaken.

Sometimes the thought pops into my head

That I’m no longer someone’s wife

I never thought that ‘divorcee’

Would become my title in life.

But instead of dwelling on what I’m not

I list all the things I am:

A sister, aunty, boss, daughter and friend

Who answers simply to the name of ‘Sam.’

I’m a lover of life, a writer

I crave adventure; parties; fun

Dancing and travelling are my favourite things

I’m a free spirit; a party of one.

So don’t focus on the things you’re not

Instead remember what you are.

You’ve survived through all life’s highs and lows

You’re a badass superstar.

Sam x

The post Badass Superstar appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

When Little Miss Organised hit her 30th birthday, she took stock. Now, she thought, would be the Perfect Time to start a family. Only Life had other plans. After a year of trying to conceive became 18 months, Little Miss Organised took herself to the doctors. Being a headstrong and determined kind of girl, she was sure she could overcome this little hiccup, as she’d always leapt every other hurdle in her path with ease. She was a strapping six-footer, after all; healthy and strong and otherwise fit.

The doctor referred her for a series of tests, which revealed blocked fallopian tubes, probably as a result of an infection following that pesky cell-removal op. He said the tubes must be removed. “Sterilisation?” she asked, dubiously. “But I want a family.” “Simple,” he replied confidently, “we’ll perform IVF. You’ll have a family, don’t worry.”

A decade later, and Little Miss Organised has a completely different life to the one she’d expected, the one she’d worked so hard to create. She is sitting on a pile of rubble, rubbing her eyes, shell-shocked. Looking around at the devastation, she strives to take it all in. The big house, the husband, the perfect life – all gone. There are no children; no happy family. Instead, she has an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach, which is partly from the loss of her life as she knew it, and partly from the missing organs that were removed without the potential consequences being explained.

Because not only have her fallopian tubes been removed, but also any hope of a family, and her health as she knew it. The operation plunged her into premature menopause, robbing her of her fertility, her marriage, her health….and almost, for a while, her sanity.

Now Little Miss Organised has a new life. It is not the life she wanted. It is not the life she planned. But it is the only life she has. And, by fuck, is she going to make the most of it. But she’s not going to plan. Well, not in the way she used to, anyway. Because she now understands that, ultimately, she is not in control. She just hopes and trusts that the journey will unfold as it should.

Because Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.

Let go. Let life happen.

The post Let Life Happen appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

Ella is writing a book entitled Yeah, Right: A Girls Guide to Surviving Teens and asked me to contribute to the Image And Appearance section, explaining how my negative body image, specifically around my height (I’m almost six feet tall), affected me then and now. Here’s my story:

The Height Of Happiness: How I Grew To Accept Being Tall

I’ve always been a tall girl; as a child I was the very embodiment of “growing up.”

I grew up. And up. And up.

Like many young girls I attended ballet classes – mostly because I loved the idea of wearing frilly tutus, prancing about looking dainty and elegant. Unfortunately though, it quickly became apparent that being the tallest in the class meant I’d always be sidelined for the female roles; instead I was chosen to play the male partner in the dance shows. While the other girls shimmied and swirled in their frothy pink outfits, I’d tug at my boyish shirt and pedal-pushers crossly.

In photos I always had to stand at the back, a body-less head floating above the crowd. When my nan made me jumpers she’d have to click-clack away with her knitting needles, adding extra row upon row to the arms, like she was kitting out an octopus.
In my early teens, my average-height girlfriends could borrow each other’s clothes, chatting away at school about which items to swop with one another for the party at the weekend…but their stuff would never fit me – the arms and legs would be miles too short. At that age, we all wanted to look the same – or at least very similar – to one another. Matchy-matchy, like a girl band.
When it came to boys, they seemed to prefer the shorter girls – cutesy curvy ones they could tuck neatly into their arms, dropping the occasional kiss on the top of their head. Which guy wants to have to reach up to kiss his girlfriend? I was about as curvy as an ironing board; my family nicknamed me Olive Oyl after Popeye’s gangly girlfriend (if you’re too young to know who she is – google it and weep). My mood swings were vicious: I’d shout and slam doors, or lash out at my mum for making me such an unlovable shape. It was a design flaw, a genetic defect – and therefore all my parents’ fault.
But then, something quite remarkable happened. I grew into my lanky body. People starting complimenting my stature, suggesting I become a model. I was stopped in Oxford Street by scouts when out shopping. I did a modelling campaign for a bridalwear company, where I was actually being PAID for my height.

Suddenly, my height was my USP (Unique Selling Point). We all have one – several actually – I just hadn’t figured out that my height was one of mine. By now I was almost six feet tall. People noticed me. When I spoke, people listened (I also have a very loud voice, but that’s another matter entirely). In shops I went straight to the bottom of the folded pile for the 34 inch leg jeans without complaining. At concerts I could see everything, whilst my shorter friends craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the show. I could reach tall shelves without a ladder. Boys asked me out. People looked up to me (they had no choice, but hey, it felt good).

These days, I love my height. It turns out that being tall is an advantage, not the disability I saw it as as an awkward teenager. I used to think my legs looked like golf clubs – huge feet on the end of stilts. I stooped; hunching my shoulders to try and look shorter, yanking my sleeves down over long arms. Now I know that my feet are perfectly in proportion, as is the rest of me. This is how I was meant to look. And I look pretty good (…well maybe not when I first wake up, but after breakfast, certainly). I’m 41 years old (which I know sounds ANCIENT to you) and this body has given me a wonderful life so far: I’ve travelled the world, got married, worked hard, danced and partied and laughed and cried. My body is strong and healthy and has served me well.
So if you’re feeling down about your appearance remember this: your uniqueness is what makes you you. If we all looked the same the world would be a boring place. Whilst you’re worrying about your looks, you’re wasting valuable energy that could be spent having FUN.

That other girl, the one you wish you looked like? She’s worrying about her looks too. Be kind. You’re so much more than a big nose, or frizzy hair. Your personality is what makes you shine; it’s what people remember the most. When you talk to yourself in your head, your body listens. So tell it you’re amazing. Tell it you’re thankful for everything it’s doing to keep you alive: pumping your blood, beating your heart, inflating your lungs. If you tell yourself good things, you’ll feel good. Try to look outside of yourself, rather than always looking inwards. There’s a big world out there, a whole life waiting to be lived. The things that matters to you now probably won’t matter to you later. When I think of all the hours I wasted fretting about my looks, I wish I hadn’t. My height, that thing I hated most? It turned out to be one of my best assets. I’d never have believed it if someone told me that when I was your age. Love yourself. Embrace your individuality. Be kind to your body. It’s the only one you’ll ever have. I wish you happiness and joy and a wonderful life. Now get out there and live it and stop worrying about your hair.

Sam x

To support Project Teen and get Ella’s book Yeah Right! A Girl’s Guide To Surviving Teens to the girls that need it most, click here. Please share this post to raise awareness of the campaign, the issues facing teenage girls and to let them know that we love them, we support them and we have their backs. 

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post The Height Of Happiness: How I Grew To Accept Being Tall appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.