Choosing Me

I’d been mulling over a few things of late – you know, the kind of things that stand in front of you and don’t budge until you really take a call? Yes, the kind of thing that challenges you to really hold your ‘values’ placards in your face, legs akimbo, raise an eyebrown and say, ‘Well?! Whatsit gonna be?? Whatcha gonna do??! What’s your decision?? Who you gonna choose?‘

And I chose myself.

Easy, you think?
Not at all – not even for someone whom many of you perceive as ‘strong’ and ‘clear headed’ and all sorts of things… making such choices is not easy. It has taken me months to fully own this choice (no, I will not go into the details), but trust me, it was hard.

I had to look at myself as an individual, as a woman, as a mother and as someone who has a circle of influence, as show up with responsibility. I could have kept it to myself too, but this also serves as showing up for the one person who deserves this more than ever – myself.

I had to show up for myself and be true & real to ME.
I was tired of the half-assery… like literally tired – physically drained… and very honestly, for nothing! You know that bone-deep exhaustion that comes from putting way too much energy and personal effort into something that doesn’t have the capacity to receive it? A wasted effort… or worse, an unvalued one…?

Yeahh… even the best of us can fall through the cracks sometimes and you’ll have all your friends and best wishers who will see it and tell you, ‘Hey girl, what are you doing? Stop! I can’t believe YOU are letting yourself go like this….’ and they’ll worry about how it is taking a toll on your health, your mind, your productivity, your energy, your relationships, your LIFE….

but they’ll also know to hold space for you, not just because they love you, but also because, some decisions you will make only when you ready to learn and decide. (The one fierce friend of mine who knows this and will be reading this – will fist bump the air and call me tomorrow morning – I’m sure of it!)

So, yes, I chose me…. and I chose being true to myself, being authentic… and to tap into that thing called resilience.

And you know what? It is not that bad… I thought it would be worse, but it isn’t.

Authenticity fosters resilience against emotional harm and gaslighting by enabling us to fully belong in our skin, accepting our strengths, flaws, and works-in-progress.

Authenticity and resilience may appear as two sides of the same coin at times. It takes resilience to show up with authenticity. Not many people can handle unapologetic & unbridled authenticity in others.

It is not uncommon to be blamed for making others uncomfortable when we stand in our truth – either because they lack the spine to stand up for what is… or just because it is deeply unnerving & unsettling to stand in another’s light.

I will not dim my light to take on someone else’s darkness.
I will not take on misplaced guilt for someone else’s shortcomings. That is not on me.
I will not, ever, apologize for showing others how to treat me. Making it clear, to another’s discomfort, is not being unreasonably demanding, it is self-respect and a blue print of an expectation. Not a reason to feel lesser than, and not a reason to apologize.

If you cannot take that, the please step aside.
I choose to move ahead… to look ahead….

and continue to be me – unapologetically me.

~ Luvena Rangel

The Need to Talk About Women & Child Safety

I’ve been having many conversations on Women and Children’s Safety in India of late. Interestingly, I wasn’t prepared for the level of resistance to many processes and initiatives to keep women and children safe or even to initiate the conversation. The excuses were usually the cases of the misuse of law and legal resources by women that are highlighted to undermine the genuine trauma, PTSD, abuse and violence faced by the majority of victims and survivors.

As a community, however, we do not speak openly and compassionately of such matters – leaving those who suffer to languish in misplaced shame and devoid of the support of family or friends.

This is a long discussion, but some key thoughts I’d to share:

1. Sexual harassment is not just groping, physical assault or rape. Unnecessary and uncalled for lewd comments, leering and ogling, making suggestive actions etc. are all forms of harassment that make the target of such behaviors feel uncomfortable and violated. Also remember, there can be no tangible proof for such behaviors.
2. A victim of such harassment will very often not complain because of the shame they will experience and that they (and their body) will be treated like an object for public discussion – without empathy or sympathy.
3. The perpetrator will often cockily walk away with the ready and self-exonerating statements like, ‘If I made them feel uncomfortable, they should have said something to me and I would have stopped. They didn’t – actually, THEY were flirting with ME – They wanted to sleep with me.“… No, it doesn’t work that way. The space created was not a safe space… and the responsibility is not on the victim to educate a creep of misbehavior when their primary objective is to get away from a threatening space and a dangerous person.
4. Victims are usually hesitant to report incidents because they feel the onus of showing proof is on them. How do you prove that a lecher’s behavior, especially when no one else was around, made you uncomfortable? How do you prove that you were molested if there aren’t any cameras to capture the deed? And then, who walks away with their head held high?
5. Present day teenagers and children are most vulnerable as they appear to be more aware with facts. Sadly, having to deal with pedophiles while they are still learning their way through adolescence is a terrifying ordeal to endure.

Part 2: The shared responsibility to protect the vulnerable.

Overrated Friendship?

Are we overrating ‘friendship’ these days?

In the past 2 months, I’ve seen people treat others whom they’ve known for years, some even for decades, in the most appalling ways… In different instances, here are some things that happened:

• Publicly humiliated, targeted & e-lynched a friend with strangers over a highly exaggerated incident taken out of context.
• Lied about a friend to others over drinks
• Practically attempted to pimp away a friend‘s significant other to someone else in the presence of so called friend
• Called friend all sorts of slurs on a public platform
• Abused friend viciously in their absence at a gathering…. the words reached so called friend from well wishers to keep an eye out for back stabbers.
• Fabricated intimate stories about themselves with friends (to set up rumors)
  … and so on…

I’ve both witnessed these instances happen to my friends.. and, well, been on the receiving end of some too…  I don’t think I had this level of stupidity even when I was in high school! These are adults I’m referring to!

Do they affect me? Not entirely… because the immaturity of it is really not something I’m overly envious of…

But it affects me for the sake of my friends who have had to endure this low level of betrayal and shoddy treatment at the hands of those whom they called (some still call) friends. How does one even call someone their friend and then proceed to throw them under the bus or speak crap about them to validate their own distorted stories?

I sense insecurity, jealousy and envy – for others’ life, choices – both available and availed of, of self pity and self loathing. Then there’s the gaslighting, the inability to listen / acknowledge the pain they’ve caused, the refusal to apologize and then to go on a relentless slandering spree. Uff!

I’m really lucky, I’ve got some fabulous people in my life who have my back. Those others, who showed themselves through their behavior both towards my dear friends as well as myself, I’m happy to distance myself from and give that time to better, nicer people (both in real life & Facebook friends and groups). It isn’t difficult, really it isn’t.

I mean, seriously folks – friendship needs cultivation…. not just partying through the ups but also hanging in there through the downs. You should be able to both support and lovingly hold the mirror to your friend when required. It also means holding yourself accountable and being willing to be shown the mirror instead of being the abusive defender and then going on a rampage.

Friendship is respectful and maintains boundaries, although a good friendship may push those boundaries a little bit in the best interest of the friend…. with love and care always. … but never, ever violate it… Friends allow each other to grow – individually as well as with each other. Friendship does not stake a claim or ownership, neither does it stand in the way of other significant relationships & friendships.

Sigh! To have witnessed this hurtful exposition in the name of friendship is harsh.. but we have all kinds, no?

The Fantasy of a Strong Woman

Let’s see, patriarchy is a crappy system for us – ALL of us! We have many women and ‘aware’ men (or so we ALL like to believe) who stand up for a world based on equity and parity. Yet, patriarchy is a bloody truth that we all are a part of.

So where does the strong woman come in? She comes in to defy the very fabric of the stereotype. She stands up, even though she has been broken, and she stands tall and steely, through blood, bruises, tears, whatever…. and guess wtf happens?

The boys club rallies together in support of the patriarchy. Yesterday I saw first hand the coming together of ‘men’ in solidarity with one of their own – a man who openly, cockily & haughtily admitted to doing what he did They steadfastly arrived to be there by HIS side but also refused to meet the eye of the woman who was standing all by herself at the other side doing what needed to be done. Men who knew this woman, interacted with her, spoke to her, apparently ‘held her in high regard’… all that BS… but when push came to shove, and despite knowing that she could have done with at least a supportive word or an unbiased “Do you need a ride home?”, they ignored her – IGNORED her like a stranger. And, gave company to an arrogant, abusive jerk – because, well, all in the name of US v/s her.

Perhaps things would have been different if she just toed the line & fit the image of a weak woman who would be the ever compassionate & forgiving picture of Indian docility and brush everything under the carpet…. then perhaps they would be happy to help an Ideal Indian Woman who they would come forward to help – allowing their chivalry an opportunity to shine.

Strong women? Nah! Weak men cannot handle strong women…

That is the reality of the people we live with. So here’s to Strong Women, may we know them, may be raise them, may we be them!

Hands Off My Boobs!

When I was in my early 20s, I had opted for a professional bra fitting. What happened in that fitting room, without a measuring tape and the attendant who cupped and fondled her way (with a perfect poker face!!!) to offer me one the best fitting lingerie I’d ever purchased till then will, I guess, remain to be a confused-but-wtf-just-happened kinda memory for some time to come.

Fast forward to present times, as an advocate for women’s safety and a knuckle rapper for all things ‘sexual harassment’, I guess it’s a normalised idea that men touch inappropriately. I’m saying this because, as it turns out, my ‘girls‘ seem to have caught the attention of mixed preferences! And while I know it is a violation of personal space and a sexual advance regardless of the gender of the violator, I didn’t know how to react, let alone respond at the time.

Having a woman sneak up behind you and grab an obvious handful of bounty, in broad daylight is, well, clearly not done. It wouldn’t have been ok even if it wasn’t in brad daylight, just to be clear. Advocating for equal rights and sexual identity / preference does not mean, you get off on me. Sorry… no way, Jose! Your preferences do not mean I oblige per convenience – especially when MY preference is clear. I’m into men – and even then, I decide who gets close enough to cop a feel

(and please – that is not an open invitation to attempt!!)

Here’s what my thoughts were over this: I was caught off guard. I felt numb, of sorts… I definitely did not like/ enjoy it… I was surprised. I almost equated it with a little child inadvertently putting their hand on me…. but I know the woman intended it. It was not a joke. Even if it were, I wasn’t laughing.

Anyway, I’ve figured out a way to address this and I shall do so in my own time. But until then, folks, if you don’t like the attention, speak up. Your personal space is your own.

As for me, a little caution never hurt anyone.

The Thorn of Divisiveness

Yesterday, I just happened upon the last 15 mins of the movie, ‘Parzania’. Today, it’s ’31st October’ that’s going on while I walked into the room… Both very painful movies portraying the horrendous riots and violence that our country has seen… the Godhra riots of 2002 and the massacre of innocent Sikhs in 1984… the pain of the marginalised or minority… or injustice one section of our country have been dealt… It hurts… because I’ve seen and heard those very movie ‘dialogues’ (not necessarily towards me, in person)… but about my ‘faith’ and my ‘people’…. sly insinuations intended to sear deep within.

So it all boils down to assuming that the ‘majority’ would value their pride of place and live and let live the minorities…

Or is it that ‘majority’ equated with decimating every minority to assume complete control? And then use petty but incendiary tactics to instigate gullible or sensitive mobs to do crazy things…?

And finally…. we see these pervasive, insidious thoughts in our families… divisive, exclusive propaganda taught by parents to their children… indirectly… making scathing remarks about neighbors of other faiths – refusing kheer from Muslim neighbors or scowling at ‘Malayali Christians’ … yes, even I didn’t know there was a specific section of the community until I heard it…. but, then, maybe… just maybe… the specification was to mollify me as I wasn’t a Malayali??

Or perhaps, and this is more likely, that I was given the label that ‘Mangaloreans are all money minded’ 🤔🤔 Or just the wide brush accusation that Christmas is, after all, a festival of ‘all show’….. so that took care of me, I guess…

But no, no one knew the answers to the symbolism of some of the pooja samagri, or direction of placing tulsi (& why)… or even that 3 Ganesha idols in a house is supposed to be bad energy…. and how does that matter anyway?

But no…..

But yes…..

That pain, inflicted as well as experienced…. nationally, societally and individually, is real…. and the intention to cause another person, community or group pain…. simply because one is capable of doing so…and allowed to… and get away with it because … they have the privilege to get away with it.

Such is life….

I live… I learn…

And… with this, my core, my foundation, my essence only talks about … inclusion…. because to not include is to harbor that thorn of divisive disharmony.

What are we if not one?

In our homes, in our offices, on our streets, in our classes….

I am a Single Mom

My oldest had his high school graduation yesterday. It was a week that saw me in a frenzy running all over Bangalore getting his clothes organized, yes with him in tow – finding places that rent tuxedos, getting into a teen-boy’s mind to match what his version of panache is v/s my ‘ancient‘ idea of what worked and what didn’t. It was a week of juggling work, mothering, more work and then even some more. Bottom line – I did it alone… because, for the most part, that’s how single moms function.

I sense this share is going to be intimate (I think) –  but I still don’t know exactly what will come through in the words that follow. What I do know is that many of you follow my posts on Facebook and many more of you are my friends and relatives. Some of you may have wondered why my pictures had a missing ‘male member’ and still others might have connected the dots from my blogs that are usually bursting with subtle undercurrents of ‘make-the-connection’.

So let me make this clear, this is not a post to satisfy anyone’s curiosity – though that may happen, it is not the primary intention. This is also not the clothes line where my dirty linen is out washed and drying, I have a huge pile of dirty clothes and washing it clean is going to take a while.

What this post is about is me breathing in and telling myself, “Luvena, you did good.”

This post is also about me coming out of the closet and accepting myself and everything in it for what it is. Coming out of the closet to bust the ambiguity surrounding complicated relationships and the chaos – mental as well as physical – that comes from being in difficult and trying circumstances and attempting to navigate crippling situations.

I am raising three young children single-handedly and have been doing this for the past many, many years. Being a single mom is not an identity that a document or legal issue declares. It is the effort that goes into waking up every morning to nudge, nurture, educate, teach, build values, argue, bully, wipe tears, cry with, hug, hold, feed, explain, share, listen, clothe, walk with, tickle, fix boo-boos, clean puke, soothe fevers, hospital rooms, diary notes, school meetings, test papers, messy hair, pizza parties, hormones, holidays, birthdays, deaths… and life… and being the mother and the father – because that is how it is..

And doing all this… and more… alone… because the other party is unavailable – physically, emotionally, financially, spiritually (huh!)… unavailable… end of story.

It is waking up daily and wondering about the choices that I made that were obviously wrong – love that was offered at the wrong place, to the wrong person – and yet teaching that love is still possible for every single one of them… us… them… and hope they sense the honesty in it.

I don’t need to be divorced or widowed to be a single mom – all I need is the circumstance that dictates the situations that would follow – all I need is the knowledge & awareness that I’m out there on my own to make or break. That’s the recipe.

Making choices for three children as, by far, the only parent who actually gives a damn about them is hard. It cracks open the door to scary feelings of guilt and doubt – Am I doing the right thing? Is this good enough? Should I just have sucked it up and put up with it all after all?

And then SNAP! Crystal clear as ever, I would know that there was never any going back to the abuse, disregard and abandon. Never.

I could never respect a man who threatened day in and day out to throw his wife and children on the road. I would never give a second glance to a man who would use money and food as a means to control. And I would never lift an inch of my attention on someone who would get back at children with tit-for-tat, refusing to wish them on their birthdays and worse, making snide remarks over milestone occasions like high school graduation.

<Deep breath>

I am a single mom because for the past 16 years I have parented my children by myself. I have paid for my boarding and have earned for myself – big money, small money all included. I am a single mom  because although some expenses were taken care of, those expenses were always calculated as an offer – not because parents do these things. Those expenses were and are, even now, used as accounting to how much was spent. I am a single mom, because after those fees were spent by someone else, everything else I did myself. I am a single mom for creating a life and a world for my children – helping them swim safely to shore in a ocean that is only filled with sharks and piranhas.

Relationships are complicated and their dynamics are even worse to get your head around. Our choices around relationships are also not that easy to figure out – especially when there are a zillions thoughts and questions rattling in one’s head before taking even one step ahead.

Not easy – but very possible…. especially if you have at least one private room to have your panic and anxiety attacks peacefully every night. Still, possible…

Why? Because being a single mom teaches you faith, trust, perseverance and grit. It teaches you focus to walk the talk and take those single steps that make up the path. It teaches you to go beyond what you think is expected of you and step out into what is right in front of you. It teaches you that no one else knows your reality but yourself – and no one knows the reality of your own fears, doubts and terrors – and that you still do whatever needs doing. It teaches you that no one can take away your power unless you give it away, knowingly or unknowingly – and even after you have given it away, you can still take it back, because you are entitled to your own power. It teaches you that showcasing the burns and scars of the journey is nothing but proof of the path of fire you walked, or are still fumbling through – and those are war-stories that not only toughen your outside but tempers your heart too. It teaches you that downplaying or shadowing your single-motherhood to patronizing patriarchs who think that a woman needs a ‘husband’ or a ‘man’ to balance her family and commitment to her work is utter rubbish… and that in turn teaches you that the muscles of the middle finger can be trained to be strong enough to flick at anyone who thinks they know better.

I know all of this to be true because being a single mom taught all this to me – and much more – and still continues to teach… or, at the very least, it is my truth.

But above all of this, being a single mom brought me closer to knowing those who are there for me – family that are so supportive, it would be devastating to go through all this without them – the lineage of strong women I come from – grandmothers widowed young and single moms themselves, parents who taught me resilience and how to smile through tough times because these too shall pass, my mother who reminds me that she is there for me every single day, my sister who fights with me even now but knows I have her back and I know she has mine, my brother who constantly reminds me that there are real, good men, friends who laugh with me over the fun times and cuss their hearts out with me during the not-so-good times even when they are oceans and time-zones apart….

And most importantly, single motherhood has given me the opportunity to see my children evolve in the midst of all this chaos and put my doubts to rest. The intimacy and trust that comes from showing up as that one person they can fall back on, knowing that you won’t fail them (even if sometimes you come pretty close to breaking) is precious. Those precious hugs, bright smiles and kisses that work to mend the deepest bruises that your heart hides make the struggle SO WORTH the tears.

I see them growing up smart, happy, considerate and good people in the making – and I think to myself, “Not bad, Luvena, you’re leaving behind some pretty fab human beings.”

And I’m proud of that. I’m proud of them – of who they chose to be in the face of all the shit that no child should be allowed to experience, but unfortunately, they did. And they came out just fine.

A friend of mine commented on my son’s graduation picture today – a momentary picture where I asked him to look at his cuff links:

“He, in that moment you captured when you said,”Look at your cuff links!” You captured him ‘in-the-moment’ for that second. Our minds race so fast and a lot of energy/thoughts can be in that second. Your son is calm with it but his feet are beginning to ‘grab’ the earth. You taught him that my love”

Mission Accomplished.

Signing off,

A Single Mom

Standing up for Me

A few days ago I was challenged. I was challenged for expressing my anger and upset. I was challenged for my audacity to stand up for an unfair blame. I was challenged with anger and angry abusives. I was challenged by being questioned for my sensitivity to a remark that apparently I should have allowed. And I was challenged for not accepting the anger that was directed at me for showing my non-acceptance of that abusive behaviour.

I was challenged for saying ‘NO’

So let me be honest here and say that the incident began as meekly as most arguments – arising from a ridiculous matter – but seeing it take milliseconds to escalate into a barrage of verbal assault was nothing short of abnormal. There was a serious dysfunction at play here – and matching it with any shade of normal attempt at pacifying was just not available.

I was agitated – physically and emotionally – and I was shocked. For a brief moment, I couldn’t understand what was happening until I started recognizing a pattern – that was using every trick it the book to abuse the hell of me and attempt to ridicule, insult, humiliate and make me look lesser – and validate whatever the f**k was going on in that person’s head. (trust me, we don’t want to go there .. not yet)

And suddenly, even though I could see this pattern and a trained part of me was telling me that it wasn’t about me, the ugly truth is that it was very, very hard to be neutral and demonstrate all that big-hearted compassion we all strive for in face of it. It was near impossible to get past the immense hate balls that were being thrown on me – when the argument wasn’t even about me to begin with. Simply put, it was easier to retaliate and give back in the language the other person seemingly understood.

But every time I tried to calm myself down and breathe in some quiet – believe me I tried – I was dragged back to perpetuate the scenario over and over again and refused my time to disconnect and get out of that space – leaving me no opportunity to even slip into a corner in my head that was meant for ‘peace of mind‘

Surprisingly, though, I found myself remaining rooted in my values and upholding the boundary that was being ruthlessly violated in those moments.

So here’s what I did.

I called out the behavior. I called out the crap that was absolutely unacceptable to me and I very clearly said that I was NOT going to accept it any more. I refused to lift my head and look at the person in that state and I told them exactly why I was not going to look at them. That I wanted no contact until that person spoke decently, respectfully and maturely.

More importantly, in the face of abuse, I found myself refusing to ASK for basic courtesy and respect – instead, I demanded it as a basic right that I was not going to throw at the discretion of someone who clearly did not value another person’s sense of respect – let alone, self-respect.

In short, I bloody well stood up for myself.

As I’m looking back to that day, I can again confirm that I have no regrets about what I said. Yes, it was anger that prompted me to say the things I did, but I meant them. I meant it when I called out the behaviour and I meant it when I said that I was done with that relationship if staying in it meant that I had to put up with immature insanity. Caring about someone does not come with a defacto ‘Get away scot-free’ card that allows you to be abused and mistreated. Neither does it come with any clauses that ask of you to be mindful of being considerate but have your own respect and boundaries violated senselessly.

Many Indian families (even my grandmother) have this rubbish idea they use to have their unruly, misbehaving kids get away with bad behaviour – they often refer to their children as having a harsh tongue but a soft and loving heart. A bigger pile of BS, I haven’t heard in this context. Nasty is nasty,  rude is rude, being mean is being mean – and these people were unfortunately raised with the idea that their bad behaviour was pardonable because their parents believed in the goodness of their heart. Good heart, I agree, because I know this person, but no – it does NOT give anyone any permission to be so rude, mean and harsh and cover it with any other band-aid psychobabble.

Uh-huh – sorry – might have been there, might have done that, might have given folks the impression that it was OK – but the buck stops here! Not happening again – ever!

And just as surprisingly, I was told one thing that made me sit back and think over the days that followed.

I was told that I had changed.

At face value, my change might have been one that said, “Hey! She’s not putting up with my tantrum like she used to! She’s changed! I don’t like this version of her.”

So I thought about it.

And the more I thought about it, the more I peeked into my heart for any feelings of remorse or guilt at how I had maintained myself. I questioned myself over and over again to see if I had missed something and if my anger was, in fact, misplaced and unjustified. Was I wrong to have voiced my dissent? Was I wrong to have stood up for myself? Was I being a hypocrite with all my ‘spiritual’ take? (Yes, I was called out for being a goody-two-shoes with all my meditation crap & for having you folks read and like my blogs/ article – yes, you guys came in too!)

And no matter which way I looked at it, I felt no guilt, remorse or fear. I felt grounded and calm. I didn’t find me justifying to myself (or maybe I did at some point, I don’t know), but I recognized that I was speaking from a place of calm and deep-down genuine love for this person. I hated what circumstances had done to this individual’s sense of balance, self-worth and to some extent, I hated this new person who I really didn’t recognize – I guess change affects everyone either way – but regardless, I was not ready to trade in my changed status of self-respect and self-worth for anything.

I remember being mocked at for saying, ‘I valued those who value me‘ and this sentiment inferred as if I were only thriving on the adulation of those who put me up on a glorified pedestal. Yeah, that would be fun… only, I’m not that famous yet (but I’ll leave that invitation open). But here’s the thing, why, WHY would I want to hang out with people who would not value me? Why would, why should anyone??

Little by little, I started moving away from the ‘what just happened‘ phase and started easing into the understanding behind why and how I had changed.

Some years ago, I recall sharing with a dear friend, Mubeena, about this so-called wisdom that people were saying I had. I remember telling her that I questioned this wisdom, because I wasn’t entirely sure it was mine entirely. It was wisdom that I had read in books, scriptures, articles, courses, seminars, conferences, and such experiences and then at various times through applying life experiences to understand the karma of it all and, then, maybe somewhere somehow it became mine. That day, Mubeena held my shoulders and said that she believed it was mine. I hugged her for being my friend and left the inquiry for another day.

This morning as I was watching my tea infuse (I think I mentioned in a previous blog how this tea infusion time is my mental space time), it dawned on me out of nowhere that this wisdom I was trying to apportion was, is, collective. No one owned it. It was for everyone.

I realised that awareness and enlightenment come to us in various forms – written text, spoken words, experienced moments – and yet, what we make out of it, how we embrace it makes us who we are. At the end of the day, me moving myself outwards and upwards was my responsibility – as it everyone else’s for themselves. Whether they chose to see it and shift was their business, me choosing to shift was mine.

That is how and why I had changed.

The books I read, the teachers and mentors I followed and learnt from, the philosophies I subscribed to, had all slowly seeped into my behaviour – my way of being – and were now reflected in my responses, so different to the reactions of the past. Don’t get me wrong – I’m no saint and I have my fair share of reactions (ask my children!), and I’m your contemporary woman with contemporary tragedies and catastrophes, but I had changed.

And, best of all, I am happy and proud of what I have changed into. If this is the kind of example I am working on setting for my children, if this is the kind of grounded woman I aspire to inspire in others, if this is the soon-to-be-40 year old woman I am turning into…

So be it.