The Encouragers Life

"You are just really... weird."   This was the sentence that confirmed what I already knew. I was different. I was only seven at the time. Growing up as a, 'misfit,' has its draw backs. You don't get invited to everyone's parties. You don't get picked for a game. People may roll their eyes when they're paired with you during class. And I could go on. Each disadvantage makes a cut. Each moment of rejection, or misunderstanding from another, leaves a mark. But... there is an advantage to being an out-of-the box individual in an in-the-box world. From an early age we are inclined to fit in. "Don't be too loud." "Don't be too quiet." "Don't be in to frogs, be in to dolls." "Don't be in to dolls, be in to frogs." It can cause a lot of confusion and even steer us to being drawn to people pleasing. Or, we are classed by our skin or where we live, to how we labelled in the world. As I see, it society like

Disclaimer Please be advised that the following article has details and description surrounding surgery and childbirth which some people may find upsetting.   I lay on the operating table as nurses and doctors buzzed around me.   One male nurse stayed with me.   I had had an epidural, a top up and then when it failed to numb the necessary, a got a spinal tap. Although I couldn’t feel my feet, or much else for that matter, I began to feel a burn.   They had retrieved my son from my stomach.   The hard part was over.   They had wrapped him and gave him to my husband.   I had even fed him whilst lying there open to the room full of people.   But I knew something wasn’t right.   I was there far too long.   The female doctor who had performed the caesarean looked panicked.   They nodded to each other from across the carnage that was my belly and one went and picked up the phone.   I was surprisingly calm.   Maybe it was the drugs?   Maybe it was shock.   But I remember feeling very clear

  I sat on the stairs in disbelief.  I was shocked at what I had just heard from the person on the other side of the phone.  I was so disgusted that I had to pull the phone away from my ear, look at it for a reason I will never understand and then return it to answer the woman on the line with, ‘Yes it is important that I know that I can attend my mother’s funeral the day after tomorrow.’ In the beginning I thought fostering was the answer to prayers.  An instant family that involved me supporting children and their families in times where they just needed helping hands.  The reality however was shockingly different and the brutality I was facing from those that were designated to support was growing. We had a young person who was severely triggered around death.  My mother had been sick for some time and unfortunately, we lost her.  I set aside my grief.  Swallowed my emotions so that I could protect the child in our care.  All I needed was the day of the funeral.  That’s all I wa