memory

Connection, Causal Comments and Costumes of our Life

| Rohana Aisha Dewfall

I wrote this more than a year ago … for some reason, I thought it wasn’t right to share at the time. Perhaps because I felt raw from the day, or perhaps because I got busy … either way, I’m sharing it now. Because as I read it back, I realised just how much I needed my own words today… and I am so immensely grateful that I have this space to write.

With love, from a past version of myself xox

” I was on the bus today, and of course, bus trips mean lots of people. Always opinions, some lovely, others not; but more recently, as I’ve been building up to solo trips with the kids again in the better weather, with them all being older, and E, now 20 months having lots more opinions about the buggy; I’ve thought about how we use the time travelling to connect.

Today, we played I-spy, our version of the game, using colours instead of phonics, and sometimes throwing in the odd shape or physical reference like ‘tall’ or ‘wide’ instead. The kids sat, and looked around, and E started to whine because he was strapped into the buggy. Luckily, another mum got on, and the connection between him and her daughter began, until he fell asleep!

We (mums) chat for a while, talking about kids and coping; she shared some wisdoms about being a mum of 7, and I shared some frustrations about villageless parenting. We connected – over the shared experience of splitting ourselves into multiple pieces, stretching so our children could have parts of us, and simultaneously loving the chance and choice to do this, and being exhausted by it. I told her I thought her family must be beautiful, and I admired her honesty. She told me that it gets easier and harder, affirming that no choice is right, but that we do what we can with the knowledge we have.

A brief, meaningful chat, interrupted by a gentleman getting on the bus and sitting down adjacent to my older 2. “you’ve got your hands full” he said gruffly to me.

“Oh I really do” I replied. “Full of love with my amazing children”.

“Uh, not all the time I bet” was his response!

The other mum looked at me and we shared a moment of horror at the roughness in his voice.

“They really are amazing” I told him. It was our stop. We left.

And once again, I thought about connections. Some positive, some negative, all, inevitably will have an impact on our energy fields. Why do some people feel so harshly about children? Why do they judge when there is more than 1? What did he gain? What was so triggering for him? I wondered aloud a little, with the general cautionary calls to my kids about the road. I thought about how hard it might be for some people to see kids being so free and confident, when they might have never been given the chance to be so.

I wondered how my children felt. Though they know we’ve had these comments and conversations before, so they said they were hardly ruffled, more interested in the scrap metal yard instead. But how does this impact children? How do we make them feel when we comment about how hard they are constantly?

What message do we send when we say, I’ve had enough of you? Because in most instances they never get to say that to us.

Thinking about my children, and the brief beautiful encounter with this lady, I remembered a quote I’d read in an email this week by Rupaul that “You’re born naked and the rest is drag”.

Kindness costs nothing.

The appearances we choose every day impact every single human around us. We are born naked, and needing others to survive… as we grow we create costumes for ourselves every season of life… and yet, when we die, we return to the earth .. dust. The short space of time in between, in the costumes we choose may be brief, but it is so powerful.

The lady on the bus today gave me hope… and it was thanks to her, that though the gentleman’s words stung, I could brush them away, and hold my babies close. A year ago, I might have been brought to tears (probably would have!). Thank you, whoever you are. I am grateful.”

That’s it.

That’s the post. A short meeting that left a big impact.

Whatever your day looks like. Wherever you are in the world. I hope you know this:

You are loved. You are important. You are so much more than enough.

A Childhood Memory

| Rohana Aisha Dewfall

Recently a friend asked me to think back to one childhood memory that stood out. No thinking, just do it.

I urge you try.

What did you come up with?

Was it something Happy? Exciting? Sad? Angry? Shameful?

My memory was a happy one, one that brought a smile to my lips. This was actually the reason my friend had asked to me to think back, to remind me that even though life seems hard sometimes, overall, my life has been pretty damn amazing.

It got me thinking about how much our childhood influences the way we raise our children. If you had a perfectly happy childhood, you try and replicate the same for your kids. Similarly, studies suggest that people who were raised in unhappy households tend to pass on this cycle to their children. Most of us are somewhere in the middle, with good bits and bad bits; with the hope that the good outweighs the bad, the happiness is prominent than the sadness.

But, as Alfie Kohn points out:

To get better at the craft of raising children, we need to be open to seeing what’s unpleasant in order to evaluate what our parents did right and where we might be able to improve on their approach.

We learn from the way we were parented and pass it on, or we take what we have learned and adapt it.

My memory was catching butterflies. This is what I wrote when I thought about it: 

We are walking around a field of sorts, it is not green, rather yellow-ish because of the warmth. It’s the 4 of us, with Sid and I holding nets and jars, I think they are empty at the moment; we are looking for butterflies. It’s a family outing. I remember feeling happy. 

Next thing I remember is the fascination of watching a butterfly, inside the jar we have, the one that is meant to be especially designed for them – now that I am older, I highly doubt this, but I remember believing it. The butterfly is sitting on a twig or something we have but inside the jar, it is colourful and beautiful. We admire it, and then let it go. it flies away and we keep walking.

This is one of my favourite memories, and I am sure it has very little to do with the butterflies and a lot to do with the fact it was a family trip. We did a lot of them and even though I know we squabbled, and were hungry or tired or both, I don’t remember those bits. The bits that stick are the feelings of warmth, of excitement and of joy; they are the kind of thing I want to pass on to my child. We learn from our parents and we better our own parenting from them; I’m pretty sure if we do that, then generations get better and we raise good people to keep the world running.

Thanks for reading,

Xoxo

R