Mary Poppins Syndrome

I got sick. Again. This time around it was supposedly just a cold, picked up from my Mum while we were visiting. But while Mum and the kids were under the weather for a few days, I’ve been ill for over a month with no sign of improvement. It’s a measure of how run down I am, I suppose. There simply aren’t any reserves left to fight with. So; long blog break.

In the last couple of weeks we’ve started our appointments with CYPS. So far Lily’s psychologist seems more concerned about me than Lily – at least, there’s the recognition that I’m too exhausted to start implementing new domestic routines to help with Lily’s behaviour. I’ve more than a sneaking suspicion that the Psych believes that everything will be fine if only I could be a bit more patient with Lily, and that a marvellous transformation will occur if I’m able to face every situation with calmness and positivity. There should be a law stating that no one can make that kind of judgement until they’ve lived with Lily for at least a week, and then multiply their stress by a total of fifteen years. Like yesterday, when the kids had agreed to make their own way to the school bus stop so that I could have a lie in, I then had to intervene over the phone as Lily was refusing to give Ivy her spare bus ticket – Ivy was crying, thinking she’d be left at the bus stop with no way to get to school and yes, Lily was quite happy for that to be the outcome. It wasn’t even 7.30 am, so goodbye lie-in and hello more stress. Still at least the Psych realised that I’m traumatised from the abuse during the divorce, and that the day to day demands that I’m facing are just too much to deal with. When I ran through the stresses I was facing, the psychologist looked at me in horror “But no one could cope with all that,” she told me.

Yes, I know, I wanted to scream. Here I am, not coping. There’s talk of what support will be put into place, referral to this and that, but I know better than to hold my breath. Too many times we’ve been promised support and none has arrived, so I’ll believe it when I see it. Either the support doesn’t exist, has sadly just been de-funded, the people delivering it are too flaky to make it consistent and sustainable, or the support on offer isn’t the support you actually need. Frankly, I want someone to look after the kids for a week while I get sent on an all-inclusive holiday – that’s the kind of rest I need. Or for someone to come round and cook dinner, wash up and hoover for a couple of weeks. Or drive the kids to school and back for me. Something tells me that these options won’t be included in the support package. When you’re this burned out, what you want is for someone to say Honey, go to bed. I got this.

Being so ill and drained all the time is incredibly frustrating. The pallets I’ve been collecting for months are laying around in the garden, ready to be turned into a shed – if only I had the energy to tackle it. There are plants and bulbs waiting to go into the ground. The decking attached to the garden cabin has rotted, because whoever built it didn’t think to put gutters on it, so that all needs redoing – as well as the roof finishing off properly (People, do not half-tile an already felted roof. Tile it all or don’t bother.) I keep forgetting to tackle the jobs on my list, such as getting home insurance quotes before it automatically renews, calling one lot of builders to see if they’re booked in to fix my shower, and calling the other builder to see about replacing the rotting doors. And oh – the dishes, the endless stack of washing up piling up in the kitchen. So I’m flunking at all the stuff that needs doing, never mind the additional stuff that I want to do on the house and garden. Right now, trying to make sure the kids get to school, we have food in the house and clean plates to eat it off is pretty much all that I’m managing. It sucks.

It sucks doubly because the kids are getting older. Which means two things; one, they should be old enough to help and take responsibility for themselves instead of me having to do everything for them. Two, they won’t be kids for much longer. And there’s the heartbreaking reality – I want them to be able to look back on their childhoods and remember the good times, not the living with an irritable, burned-out exhausted mother in a cluttered home where everything needs fixing. It’s like the bulbs for the garden – if they don’t get planted now, they won’t bloom in Spring. It’s too late. If I don’t start building the shed, the wood I’ve gathered will start to rot. If I can’t somehow pull together our lives and our home into something more harmonious, the kids will have grown up and left. As much as I want to heal and go gently on myself, there’s a timeline here. I can’t press a magical pause button so that the world will wait until I’ve caught up.

It’s Mary Poppins Syndrome, the desire to click my fingers and have everything fall nicely into place, preferably with the aid of a magical helper. Living – the real life we should be living – is deferred until the future when everything is in order. I have the firm belief that if I could just catch up with myself, get to a place where the house is in order, then life will begin to run smoothly and everything will be less overwhelming. I’ll be on top of things, instead of constantly skidding down the avalanche of chores and responsibilities as they pile up on top of me. No doubt life would feel more pleasant if I lived in a home that was always Instagram-ready, but I have no idea of how I’d reach that mystical stage without Ms Poppins’ intervention. The inbox is never empty though – even if by some miracle the house was “done,” it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Sustaining it requires energy, and that’s exactly what I’m lacking.

Clearly my healing and recovery needs to include my physical wellbeing and it’s fast becoming a priority. Doubtless the physical is also affected by the emotional/psychological, and vice versa; it’s hard to be upbeat if you’re constantly ill and exhausted, and stress/trauma will likely create ill health. Healing needs to take place across all areas, and apparently at the same time. So tomorrow I’m heading out to forage some elderberries, if any are still around, and maybe some rosehips too to make an immune-boosting syrup, on top of the supplements that I’ve begun taking. Time too to think about therapy, to start looking for help rather than struggling on alone, to make plans for recovery rather than waiting for Mary Poppins.

The Grand Plan

Garden design starts with a plan. Usually. Except, as I’ve mentioned, the dimensions of my garden simply don’t make sense on paper, it’s absurdly long and narrow. I’ve tried sketching out ideas, but the garden refuses to be pinned down. Instead, I’ve found myself feeling my way into it, having a rough idea of what I want and kind of where that might end up, but working it out as I go. Building from the ground up and seeing where it takes me, rather than imposing any artificial design that’s been sketched out from the comfort of my living room.

Here’s the starting point, from the estate agent’s pictures before I moved in. Sadly, that’s not my bench.

All very clean and tidy – but there’s nothing there. An old rose bush and the plum tree, plus straggly grass with trip-holes for the unwary dug by the previous owner’s dog. No flowers, no herbs, no soul. A fence halfway down to contain said dog, and the garden office/cabin beyond. A blank canvas, in other words.

The first idea was to have three circles cut into the grass – I marked out the first couple last year, but ran out of time and energy to properly cut them out. To get rid of the unwanted grass and cut down on weeds in the meantime, I put sheets of cardboard down – it looked hideous but helped to get the job done.

Phase one, the first circle with a large new flower bed between it and the patio is pretty much complete. More plants could be fitted in, but planting will be an ongoing process according to finances and hopefully the ability to raise some from seed – at the moment the priority is to mark out the bones of the garden. My instinct has been to create at least one small area that feels like a garden in the meantime, and seeing the flowers from my bedroom window always brings a smile to my face.

Phase two is to cut out the remaining two circles of grass, edge them and weed the newly created planting beds surrounding them. Both circles have been cut, and one has been edged, albeit wonkily, with timber edging that I managed to get on sale. The weeding wasn’t completed, and as a result both circles are being invaded by an eye-watering amount of convolvulus – bindweed. Nightmare. I want to garden organically, but have started to fantasise about a large dose of Weed n Feed, as there’s no real way I can beat the bindweed, especially as it’s burying its pernicious roots into the “lawn.”. Even if I miraculously beat it back to the fenceline, it will just keep creeping back in from next door’s garden as Mike isn’t much of a gardener.

Phase three; my much-wanted herb garden, just beyond the now-removed centre fence. Based on a mandala design, a circular area of path that buds into the surrounding planting area, giving a larger reach. This has been marked out for over a month, the edges outlined and cut halfway – until the weather became so hot and the ground baked solid. So progress has halted until we get at least one decent rainfall to soften the ground. Plus it’s just too hot to start digging, even if I didn’t have to use a pickaxe to get through the soil. It’s been left, as Lily said, looking like I’m marking out some kind of satanic ritual. This picture was taken a few weeks ago – the grass is like dried straw by now.

With these areas marked out, it’s easy to see that a little potting shed would be perfect in between the grass circles and the herb garden. A strip of decking outside the shed could double up as both a path and a place to sit, and the little space left is where the pond should go. It’s easy to see all of this, in the bliss of my imagination. Creating it though is another story. I need a new car and my shower is still broken. Three doors need the attention of a handyman, for three different reasons. While there are sheds at B&Q that seem fairly cheap, by the time delivery costs have been factored in, never mind assembly costs, it’s just too expensive. Realistically I need to build the shed myself, from pallets and scraps. Rather more realistically – I have zero building experience, and as Ivy would say, have obviously been spending far too much time on Pinterest. Ah, Pinterest – the mythical realm where inspiration triumphs over actual ability. A pond? That seems doable, until I likely unearth a large sunken concrete bunker, or fail to drive the spade in more than six inches deep. Oh, and of course I can’t handle the electric pump installation, neither can I afford to hire someone… and so it would be a stagnant swamp rather than pleasant pond. What should be phases four and five are fast becoming a personal Everest, the litmus test that decides whether I can manage to seriously push myself into new skills or whether in fact I’m just seriously deluded. More pallets are required before I can think about starting the shed though – and it’s far too hot to be trying to lug pallets up the street, or so I’m telling myself.

Phase six – and by now I’m probably fortune-telling rather than planning – would be to build a covered pergola adjoining the cabin to create a social space that’s further away from the house. See, my head figures that by now I’ve already managed to build a shed from scratch, so a pergola should be a breeze, right? This would be the perfect place for an outdoor sofa, I’ve always wanted somewhere comfy to sit outside. There’s a gap between the herb garden and the pergola area, that the kids are asking to keep as long grass, although eventually this could become a veggie patch. And finally phase seven or eight would be to spruce up the hidden orchard area that lies beyond the cabin, pop in some woodland plants and tame some of the tangled undergrowth. Oh, and if I could, I’d also pop in a covered porch along the back of the house; we built these in our last two houses and it’s soooo useful to have a little rain-proof area outside your back door, whether that’s to have a clothes airer standing outside, or to nip out to the firewood pile without getting wet.

That’s the plan then – technically more of a dream than a plan, given the issue of my having no idea how to construct it all. But a dream is a starting point, right? And until then… there’s always Pinterest.