Childlessness in a book that wasn't kidding

I recently read a book recommended by Loribeth. Yes, I've been managing to read again and listen to audiobooks. Yay. You Are Here is by David Nicholls, a wonderful writer, and takes you on a journey across hills and dales in England. There's a discussion of childlessness at one point, in which a character mentions  "the tyranny of proving your life is fulfilled, and not a leaky bucket." (paraphrased as I listened to it as an audiobook).

I've written about that here - the expectation that we have to have a Next Big Thing if we are not having children. When actually Life is our Next Big Thing. And it comes with joys and challenges just like life with children. 

Later in the book, I noted a comment about friends re-emerging from parenthood as their children grew up. That too has been my experience, and I have of course written about it too. That friends are able to be friends again, without the all-consuming need to be with their children. I've even noticed that friends who dropped us years ago because they were only or mainly socialising with other people who had kids, the parents of their kids' friends, for example, have now reappeared. Maybe they realised that those were really friendships of convenience, and once the children were grown, they didn't have much in common? I don't know. But the reappearance has been nice too. Of course, none of that made the fact that we were dropped any easier. Or reduces my new levels of wariness around them too. But being open to reclaim these friendships has been good for all of us.

How nice to see ourselves reflected in a book in a calm, non-histrionic way, when childlessness was not the central feature of the book, but it was a very present, talked about, and acknowledged feature that contributed to the richness of the characters and story. 

 

The healing power of travel

Klara at The Next 1500 Days has written a most beautiful post about visiting a glacier and how it helped her and her husband heal after their first IVF, and gave them strength for the future. Go read it here, if only to see the fabulous photo, but also to read her wise words. Klara and I both love travel. So of course, she got me thinking. 

Before we started IVF, after our first ectopic pregnancy, we took a trip to France.  I have written before about it here, about how it taught me to hold joy at great beauty, and sadness for a loss at the same time. Later, between our first and what would be our last IVF attempts, we had six weeks between cycles, and we took off to nearby Vanuatu for a short beach holiday. More recently, after a difficult diagnosis and treatment, we have been on a bucket list trip to Egypt and a cruise. It took us away from the reality of diagnoses and treatments and necessary home maintenance that were threatening to overwhelm us. 

Travel brings me great joy, whether it is through extraordinary landscapes, or famous sites, or food, or learning new things. That joy, for a short time, helps me forget sadness, or at least, it helps remind me that I can hold both at the same time. In fact, travel almost requires me to do that. Because at home it can be easy to push away any pleasure because I might feel guilty for feeling joy in awful circumstances. I felt that with the loss of pregnancies, until I allowed myself to let go of the guilt. Travel almost demands we do that. After all, we owe it to ourselves to enjoy something that is out of the ordinary, something we paid for, something that has taken a great effort to experience. 

It can even allow me to forget those stresses and realities of life. Because there is only so much we can hold at once. Travel insists that I concentrate on a new environment, maybe different languages and almost always cultures. That brings a real focus on where I am and what I am doing, on experiencing the immediate, the now, and of being aware and appreciative. And in opening my heart to wonder and joy, to experience that, makes it is easier to shut out some of the troubles we are facing. It allows me space to breathe. My posture improves, my shoulders relax, and the biggest stress is (usually) where to eat dinner each night. It makes it easier to forget sadness. And therefore easier to relax. When we are mindful, and focused on that, it gives our brains and our hearts a welcome and much-needed rest. It allows us to stop thinking about the "what-ifs" and what is going to happen in the future. Our brains and our bodies can relax. Our souls can heal, just a little. It allows me some rejuvenation of body, if possible, and almost definitely of spirit.  

By opening our hearts to experience the now, to be mindful, I feel relief. I noticed this first when I just needed to be away from a stressful job. Then after some more serious life events, including pregnancy loss. Travel, for me, provides some healing, and reminds me that there is much happiness to be found in this world, if we stay open to it. I am especially aware of that if I am relaxing in a gentle breeze in Asia, or absorbed in an animal sighting in Africa, or appreciating a beautiful village square in France, or most recently watching a lovely sunset over the Nile. But there is joy in a sunset at home too, or in a funny encounter, or seeing a beautiful flower. Travel has helped teach me that, too. Even if or when we know that there is worse to come, a brief respite of mindfulness can be welcome relief.

The stress of being in new places might be too much for some people. Certainly, travel is not completely stress-free, even when we love it. I'm not a brave intrepid traveller, oblivious or blase about risks in different environments. But for me the benefits outweigh the risks.  That is not the case for everyone. I know too it is a luxury to be able to travel. I hope I will be able to continue to travel, but nothing is certain. So if travel is not for you, I am sure there are other things that can deliver the same awareness and relief for you. When I think about it, a hobby, a good book, a walk or run, a film or play or gig, a day out, or even cooking and eating a delicious meal can be healing, if we let it, if we are mindful, if we are open to letting small moments of joy and peace into our hearts when all else feels gloomy.