⚡️ 11 years of Manners

Hey loves,

It’s that time of year again where I celebrate the anniversary of Manners which is 11 years old this month, and simultaneously feel a whole load of grief and pride in mixed proportions. Because really, Manners started from a dream to be free at a time when I wasn’t. There wasn’t a plan, just a box of clothes, a shit load of hope, a sprinkle of bravery and a dusting of having nothing to lose.

It’s 11 years since this all started, and recently I’ve started to think that I don’t know how to cry anymore, but someone asked me something today. Pointed out something I had said, and it opened up a whole can of worms I wasn’t prepared for. (*yay for friends who ask you the hard stuff)

It’s the trickiest time of year for me. Where my nervous system annoyingly seems to still remember. In a way myself (as a separate functioning entity) does not. But then at some point every year they are forced to meet each other (me and my nervous system) and feel a whole load of shit, which is 50% relieving and 50% ‘are we really doing this again’.

Cos, it’s 11 years since I ran away. Since I grabbed my kid and a few belongings and left. Left all our life and job and things we’d gathered to make our home a home (which after 10 million moves is something I’m really very good at) and ran. With no plan except to be safe, and one day, maybe even free.

And my whole being shakes every year when I think about that girl, that baby so-fucking-brave me who did that. And about how she had to believe she could do that and make it better all alone. And that little 5 year old who just had me to try and make his one little life good. And I remember the feel of his hand as we rushed through the airport eyes down in case I saw anyone who knew us. And I remember his little face looking up at me flit from the screen on the plane seat back, as he played hangman, and how, on the screen the first word he had to complete was the word ‘escape’. There in capitals.

And then I look around and I don’t know how that life turned into this one. It’s so peaceful here. I’m sat at my table in my bikini with the door open and I can hear at least 4 different birds singing. I never noticed a single bird singing for so many years because my mind was so fast and full. And now, now I hear birds singing every day.

And this year although it’s 1 year further away from that day, it’s hit even harder because my kid just suddenly grew up. Like SO fast. In previous years I could have had a little cry and then had to just crack on cos there was so much shit to do. And yesterday my teen (who’s now 16) has an actual full time summer job and yesterday made his own doctors appointment without any help, and likes to cook his own food and now for the first time in nearly 17 years I have this huge space which was once filled with being someone’s whole world, and I really really just don’t know where to put myself. I feel like a jelly fish in the sea just bobbing around, jelly, see-through (and a little bit dangerous - but thats prob the start of peri menopause 😆 )

And when I feel like this, my signature move is to find endless things to fill this space with, but this hole is maybe just too big for that. I’ve done some loose maths and worked out how many dance classes and gym sessions it takes to fill a 17-years-of-parenting void, and unless I wake up 5 hours before going to sleep, it’s not looking good for me.

So I guess imma go get my new stripey beach chair and a big old pad and a pen and some snacks and some very dark sunglasses and my absolute smallest bikini (cos a girl can weap and tan at the very least) and go feel some shit. Because this new space isn’t going anywhere. So I need to work out how we live together.

And although this all feels huge and new and scary as hell. That messy brave frightened girl raised a whole human who at 16 is happy and independent and kind, self-regulated, and pretty mean in the kitchen.
And I really hope I can be more like him when I grow up.
Thanks to all who have joined me on this 11-year ride.

All the love
Always
Sal xx