When challenged, we grow

Whenever I am plugged into life beyond my small world of minding three children, the same message keeps popping up:

Be Present; Hold Awareness!

I guess this is very telling of the kind of social media accounts I follow, the books I read and the emails I receive but it does seem to be a movement and I am buying into it. Not fully, I haven’t become vegan and I don’t keep bees but I meditate and I try to hold myself in awareness rather than in my very busy mind which, as it turns out, isn’t actually me! I relate to what I hear and read from people further on in a space of greater awareness; it is only our own thoughts that hold us back. I know in the very core of me, if I could free myself of my conditioning, my thought patterns, my fears, I could get out of my own way and become the me that I am after one glass of champagne on a warm day by the sea.

Becoming a mother stripped me bare of everything I thought I knew about myself. I was brought to a place of such vulnerability that I had no choice but to start building myself up again, slowly, in the presence of three impressionable young souls that I could either hinder or empower. I stumble and trip and cause them future psychological damage at least once a day but they do make me want to be better which gives me the reassurance that my love for them is unconditional even though at times I wish to be far, far away from them. Being needed to the level a child needs a mother was hugely challenging for me but upon reflection, it seems to have led to personal development.

Moving countries also presented an entire obstacle course of new challenges for me to tackle. One challenge in particular jeered at me like an upcoming smear test, it was inevitable and for the best. I would need to learn and enjoy skiing in order to survive Swedish winters. The delight that Swedes take in this winter pastime was confusing to me at first. Why would they choose to spend holidays going further north where there is more snow? I didn’t get it; not until I myself stood in skis on a mountain (or in my case, a slightly sloped piece of land) covered in fresh sparkling snow, backdropped by a deep blue sky with sunlight reflecting the sparkle in joyful praise. In the depths of Swedish winter, I felt like Dorothy arriving into technicoloured Oz after the monotonous greys of Kansas.

The first time we tried out our local ski club, I mustered up enough false confidence snow ploughing in serpentines down the family slope, following behind ski lessons for 6 year olds as inconspicuously as possible, to believe Philip when he told me that I would be well able to manage the adjacent very gentle piste. Philip took our 4 year old, Elsa, in a harness attached to him and instructed our 6 year old, Oscar to,

-Look after Mama, she has never done this before.

Oscar looked up at me in disbelief. The person that tells him what to do at all waking hours of his life is now counting on him for guidance. We headed towards the anchor lift and waited for our turn to be slowly dragged up the mountain like a fish on a hook. Once hooked to one side each most unnaturally, Oscar advised me to keep my skis straight and look down at them.

I was not afraid as I had no idea there was any need to be until it occurred to me that I would need to get off at some point. In my head I ran through all the basic advice a nurse would give a patient before a vaccine,

-Don’t panic, don’t tense up, breathe, it’ll be over before you know it.

I am proud to say, I did one thing right, I was a good mother. I can be, what some might consider, a selfish mother. I feed myself first and only give away items of clothing in cold weather begrudgingly but this time, I made sure Oscar was safely off before attempting anything myself. Then, I tensed up, stopped breathing, closed my eyes, blacked out for a few seconds and fell off.

There have been so many moments since moving country that my children have seen me fumble. Dropping a box that was too heavy, at my wits end with nerves at the supermarket checkout going over the same Swedish phrases in my head in order to appear casual, or dressing them in rain pants and runners when all the other kids in day-care are in overalls and boots. Oscar looked down at me fumbling yet again, face down in snow, in utter confusion. What kind of a grown-up has been assigned to be my mother??? I attempted to assess the situation by lifting myself up and out of the snow a little but Oscar cautioned me to,

-Stay down mama!

Anchor lifts were coming overhead, I had to put my face back in the snow for cover. An unbeknownst Philip, a little way off, concerned himself with the tightness of Elsa’s helmet so Oscar and I were left to face utter humiliation. A male 20 something year old walking advert for Helly Hanson in reflective sunglasses and winter sun bleached skin grabbed my ski boot and pulled me to safety. This was altogether too much for Oscar, the hero that operated the anchor lift could not know that he was associated with the woman who couldn’t embark from the anchor lift. My eyes squinted in judgement at the little boy who was too afraid to go to the shed to get his skateboard alone, now side stepped on skis away from me.

Managed to take a photo after anchor lift fail and pre starfish slide

After a rushed mortifying display of thanks to legendary anchor lift operator hero, I caught up with Philip still fussing over Elsa, completely oblivious to MY needs. There was no time to grieve my dignity the very gentle piste awaited. I did somehow manage, in my state of shock, to remember to take a quick photo though.

Once again I was offloaded onto Oscar who at this stage had lost all respect for me and whizzed off with such ease, tucking his little body for greater speed and shouting something about

-Other slope…better…

Disregarding Oscar’s efforts at guidance, I followed the others, blissfully unaware. Philip, who knew my only previous ski experience had been in a shopping mall in Dubai and an astro turf mountain in Cabinteely, offered no support but as he descended the first slope, his elegant swishing slowed and his body gave in to an acceptance. I recognised this body shift. I had seen it before during a surf lesson. Philip had pushed me on my board into a wave that became a much bigger wave than he had anticipated and instructed me to paddle. I paddled with the upper arm strength of a hamster and noticed a swell building underneath me, a powerful force that I didn’t understand but knew I couldn’t control. The last thing I saw before the wave took me into its raging thrashing was this same shift in Philip’s body, shoulders dropped, breath released, already accepting my blame. As I slid down the too steep for me slope in starfish position, I immediately transferred all blame once again to my accepting husband,

-Phiiiiilllllllllllllliiiiiiippppppp.

Snow gathered up the back of my jacket as I went, poles long ago abandoned in favour of protecting vital organs. Pushing my legs into the snow with all my might, I gradually came to a heap at the feet of my husband and 4 year old. He voiced his realisation with just a smidge of smug,

-There’s another way around for beginners.

I tried to keep my cool in front of Elsa who in her little furrow browed concern asked me,

-Why did you do that Mama?

As Philip retrieved my poles, I mustered all the self-confidence available to me after 5 consecutive years of baby brain and made it back to the safety of the family slope where I regained my courage amongst groups of beginner Indian and Asian tweens.
In a get back in the saddle move, I allowed myself to be dragged up by the anchor lift and once more, in an attempt to get off, I blacked out and I fell. Not quite so spectacularly this time at least. A kind woman helped me up and soothed my frantic, hysteria with gentle reassurances. Amidst the frenzied excitement of young semi-professional athletes in flashy skiwear, this 50 something year old sensible woman in sensible clothing of sensible colours was so present and held buckets of awareness.

-Breath, you have time, don’t panic.

As my kids took a chance and soared without me, it was I who needed motherly wisdom and security to face this challenge and the universe had delivered it to me.

I made it down ok which fed the new found confidence and queued one final time for the anchor lift. Upon which I grounded myself.

-Be present, hold awareness, don’t let fear take over.

I breathed, I took my time, I stayed conscious, I unhooked my bottom, held on for a moment to steady myself and let it go. I let it go with the fear it was holding over me and put my arms up in absolute triumph. I looked around to celebrate with someone, no one was there, I was alone. This wasn’t for anyone else anyway, this was for me.

As I made it down the very gentle piste I thought about all the times I had relied on Philip to help me accomplish something. Having known him since I was 19 years old, I had grown up with him. As a child I had placed my own recognition of my success, of my self-worth even in my family and as I grew up, I had transferred that to him. I decided there and then to take it back and build up trust in myself, in my own abilities.

When challenged, we grow.

Philip and the kids were taking their skis off when I joined them. I told them of my victory. It wasn’t that big a deal for the kids, they accomplish several new things a day. Philip saw me though, radiating in love and joy at my own accomplishment. Just like a kid winning a medal on sports day, I was invincible and he delighted in it with me.

As we walked out, Oscar took my hand and I felt like the me after one glass of champagne on a warm day by the sea.