Life is Too Short...

... to worry. 

I know, if you actually know me in real life you are wondering who I am and what I have done with the real Alex, but trust me, it's me. Not sure why, but I am having a totally Zen week, of "what will be, will be". It could be the meditation, it could be the weekend of just "being", not sure what it is, but I feel relaxed and happy. 

Although I am made to worry, I could be a professinal worrier, this week I go forward thinking that if D and I are well, then all is well. 

I am extremely proud of my worry-free status - long may it last! 

Life's too Short...

...to worry about the rainclouds!

We have had an unusually cloudly spring here in Greece. Usually around this time of year it has started to feel like summer. The sky gets bluer, the sun gets hotter and we spend most of daylight hours avoiding being outside, for fear of burning to a crisp. 

Not this year! It has been a cool and delightful spring, with showers and cloud cover galore! It has been wonderful for those lovely long walks on the mountain, and for reading in the garden. Warm enough to enjoy, overcast enough to not get burnt. 

Yet, this silver lining... has a cloud too. We have had a little more rain than usual too. Don't imagine anything anywhere near English rain, just the occasional shower here and there (maybe three per week). 

It has made for very dramatic walks up the mountain for us. But I also know that it has foiled a lot of plans too. You see, we are very spoilt here in Greece. If it rains now, it has usually stopped a few hours later. And so, when the rainclouds gather, we tend to postpone. 

I compare this to how we were when we lived in London. When we would go out training come rain or shine, because we knew that waiting a few hours, or leaving it until tomorrow was unlikely to mean that we would get better weather. And you know what? Well... we never melted. Sometimes it might have been unpleasant (cold December mornings spring to mind) but most of the time it was liberating and life-affirming. 

So here it is: Life is too short to worry about the rainclouds. We are going out anyway (just packing our raincoat too... you never know)! 

The Tuesday TED talk - work/life balance

(And the link if your browser will not show the video is  here)

It had been on my mind for a while. In fact for the last couple of years I was questioning the long term viability of my lifestyle as a teacher. I am not the only one, it seems.  Surveys show primary school teachers (in the UK) working an average of 59.3 hours a week! My own estimates seemed about the same. The premise is this: if you want to be more than just an average teacher, if you truly want to add value to your lessons and facilitate good quality learning at (almost) every lesson, then you need to work at it! 

Again, for a few years I relished it. I love my job, and working with kids, though tough, can be intensely rewarding. I want to be good at it, not because it makes me feel better, but because it can make a difference to someone else's life. Good teachers do matter (to an extent). So I rationalised the long hours, thinking of the long holiday payback. "Yes, I might work 60 hour weeks, but I do get 12 weeks of holiday in the year." That was the thinking. 

Only then, when actually calculating my holiday I realised that for at least 6 of those I was working. Not in the classroom, granted. And the work was much easier than 7 periods of teaching each day. But it was still work. And, here's the crux, it often kept me awake at night. Plus, did I really want to live for only 1/5 of the year? Did I want to always wait for the holiday, in order to see my husband, enjoy long walks, have time to read and write?

I watched this TED talk a while after I had decided to take a sabattical. I watched it after I had asked for it and it had been approved, and after I had started my search for a more viable career. The problem is: I love teaching. I think it is worthwhile, interesting, varied, meaningful. To me that is what a career should be. So where does one find balance?

A quick personal survey and scan of several teacher online-fora indicated that a huge amount of teachers in the UK have found a way to balance work and life. And that way has been working part time. It has been increasingly the trend in schools across the country for teachers to job-share and it sounds like a brilliant idea to me too - all the pleasures of the job, less burn out! 

Yet, we live in Greece. And Greece of the crisis is a very different place to the UK. In a country where youth unemployment rates are above 50% (56 to be exact) and that jobs are hard to come by and when they are there, they are highly competitive and badly paid, I dared to utter the words: "I want a work/life balance!" 

Chaos and attack ensued from various sources, including my family. It was blasphemy: I had such a good job, why would I leave it? Why would I give up part of my salary to have more time? What is work/life balance anyway? 

To be continued... (have to go to work, you see)

Mindful Buying

simple pleasures are usually free

Confusing our needs and our wants is a reality for most of us. Every time we make a choice we confuse our "needs" with our "wants". From the frosted cupcake, to the new pair of shoes, we have lost sight of what we truly need, and what we merely want. 

I have been practising "mindful buying" for the last 5 months. What that means is something very simple: before I make a purchase, any purchase, real or online, I simply ask myself "do I really need this?" 

Since I started, in early January (and no, it wasn't a conscious new year's resolution) I have bought no items of clothing*. (And for those who know me, not even sports kit. I know!)

For some this is fairly normal - no new items of clothing in 5 months is hardly revolutionary. For me too, it has been pretty easy - I was never a big consumer of big into fashion. But when I've mentioned it to people around me, I have been met with incredulous looks and open jaws. "Why would you do that?" is a common question. 

There are several reasons, but here are five of them:

1. Less clutter

I want less stuff in my life. I don't want to be weighed down by tons of things I hardly use. I need less space to store my things and it makes me more mobile (not that we are going anywhere anytime soon). Oh, and it means less washing and less tidying up. This links well with my clearning up and throwing away (read more here).

2. More money

Again, I never spent much money on clothes anyway, I would say an average of 100-150 euros per month. But as we are preparing for living on less money, that is a good amount to be putting away. Spending less will eventually mean I will have to work less, which will mean more time for the things I truly want to do and matter to me! 

3. Better for the environment

We, the human race, consume a lot. Too much, in fact. I know I am not saving the world, but I am consuming a little less (which is probably only enough to off-set my mother's voracious appetite for cheap clothes and accessories, but that's another story).

4.Getting more use from current wardrobe

I have a lot of clothes already. I guess I might need to qualify that: I have more clothes than a lot of people in the world, but also fewer than a lot of the women I know. I have a wardrobe full, as well as 3 drawers. There's enough! In fact I have recently given away three bin bags of clothes and still have more than enough. The good news is, I have gone through everything I own and I can wear the stuff I really like more!  

5. Quicker "getting dressed" decisions

I am not one of those people who "enjoys" the getting dressed process. Who stands in front of the wardrobe and is thrilled to try new combinations out. In fact, I often get obsessed with 4-5 pieces of clothing and will wear them in rotating throughout the season. Same with shoes. Fewer clothes=less choice=quicker to get dressed! Definitely a plus! 

The biggest surprise for me was just how easy it has been. It could be because I don't live anywhere near any shops, and D and I were never into the "shopping as entertainment" habit. But even now when I go into a shop, I hardly ever think: "I have to have this." I might like something, but when I ask myself: "Do I need it?" or "What will I wear it with?" or "Do I have anything similar?" it becomes clear that I don't actually need to buy it. 

So if I am not spending money on clothes, what am I spending on? One is eating out, D and I eat out at least once a week, often twice. It is a treat. It might not be a need, but it is an indulgence and we love it. And the second big expense, apart from basic living expenses (food, heating, petrol, insurance) is... books. Mostly e-books (as you might have read my post on trying to get rid of my books here). I think it is just magic that with 3 or 4 pounds I can buy someone's intellectual property and make it mine! Mine to read and understand. How wonderful! 

*confession: I did buy two pairs of shoes. I later returned both of them, as after bringing them home, realised I didn't really need them. Or even wanted them all that much... 

A few things I've learnt

We have now been waiting for 9 months. For those of you who have not been following, that is 9 months post- match. Normal post- match wait is between 6 and 8 weeks, though for some it's faster and for others slower. 

It is now clear that things have not gone well. We are coming to terms with the fact that this story might not have a happy ending. Seeing everyone come back with their kids, after 5-6 weeks of waiting, seeing people matched well into our wait period and now have completed families sucks. SUCKS. 

Yet, I am also learning so much in this period of my life. So lessons useful, some interesting, some annoying... Here is a small list of what I've learnt, while waiting for our court date.

1. People are different

The same people in the same situation can still have a different reaction. In fact, most do. People have different tolerance levels, different reactions: some close down, some remain unreasonably positive, some get angry. Some offer help, some ignore and go on, some stew. Judging these reactions is not for me, we all do what we can to survive through another day. 

The first point bring me to my second lesson:

2. I have an unusually strong reaction to stress

It could be because of my past: of the trauma I haven been through the last four years. It might be because I was made this way. It might be because I think too much. Whatever it is, is is what it is... I am finding ways to cope with my reaction day by day, with the help of those around me. I cannot change my reaction at his point, I can temper it, accept it and try and learn from it.

3. No matter how bad a day is, tomorrow might just be better

No guaranties with this one. But chances are some sleep and some TLC will make it better. Sometimes it won't, but hopefully there will be another day.

4. It' s ok to be angry...

5. ...but it's not ok to be take it out on your nearest and dearest.

Or on your colleagues. Or the children you work with. Or while driving. Or on the dogs. Basically, you need to find a anger-busting activity to engage in. (Confession: I sometimes write angry emails... And never send them...)

So... I might be full of wisdom (not) but I still struggle a lot as I wait. As I reshape my expectations once more. As I wonder if we will ever become parents...  

A Day of Rest

I have spoken before about Slow Sundays. I have written about the need to have the quiet space, yet often enough other things happen... Life happens.

It is a gift and I am grateful to have this one day a week. It is usually Sunday, by virtue of the fact that I have no work (rephrase: I don't have to go into work. There's always plenty of work at home...). We are also lucky that shops are not open in Greece on a Sunday - although D tells me they were open today. Either way we live too far from any shops for that to affect us. 

I feel I deeply need the one day a week: the Sabbath, the day of rest. I find that when I miss it I start the week hurried and chasing my own tail.

And so today I had the day of rest. I woke up early enough, before 8, but stayed in bed, reading and sipping tea. D had to go out (he took 25 kids to a running race. One of the reasons why I think my husband is wonderful is that he will willingly do this sort of thing) so I was home alone, with the dogs. 

My first hour was spent sitting in the garden with the dogs. I read some more, soaked up some rays, played with the dogs, smellt the flowers. 

I did do some work, but it was at my own pace and it felt more like unburdening my week, rather than loading up my weekend. It felt good to finish it and I go into Monday knowing this. 

I cooked, I cleaned a little, but mostly I relaxed. It felt good to not have a watch, to not care what time it was. I had a nap too! 

I loved my day of rest. I needed my day of rest. It was another one of my slow days. I keep promising myself to have more of those, but somehow working full time, plus my private lessons gets in the way of this. On other news, I applied and got a year's sabbatical leave!! Which means that hopefully soon I can have more slow days, with or without our kids (but certainly without other people's kids)!

Mountain Healing Time

Gosh, that sounds so airy-fairy. And if you know me... airy-fairy I am most certainly not. But I have been trying to find ways of coping with this sustained wait, with the uncertainty and with the tough decisions possibly coming our way. 

One of the main ways that I have always coped with life's ups and downs, apart from personal connections, has been to simply get out. To get outside, in nature, and walk, run, kayak, row, swim or sometimes simply sit. 

There is a magic to outside, a certain calmness and serenity, a certain quiet that is lacking from other spaces. But most importantly for me, I think, there is a vastness. A vastness that places things in perspective. 

That is one of the reasons why I often choose mountains, over any other outside space. There is an imposing quality to them, but also the realisation that things in life are bigger than ourselves. That we are but a speck, in front of the towering mass above us. 

Strangely though, there is also power that comes when you stand at the bottom of a mountain, looking  up at its vastness. And that is the knowledge that you can scale it. Having done it before, you can do it again. Step by step, one foot in front of the other, the mountain can be climbed. Not to mention that the view from the top can be breathtaking... 

So I have been escaping outside lately. Up on the mountain sometimes, simply in the garden at others. I feel the outside grounds me and heals me and I am able to start another day. 

The Tuesday TED talk

Ok, here's this week's TED talk. It's short, even shorter than last week's, so no excuses.

It's a topic very close to my heart. This post about why it's ok to go to bed at 10 is all about it. And the Extra Hour can only be productive because I have had a full night's sleep. (If for some reason my sleep was not as long as it should have been, like last night, I will often make the executive call to stay off the training bike and sleep in for another 40 minutes.)

 I am sick of the kudos attached to no sleep. I want to push towards the culture change of admiting that being fully rested is when we work at our best. Of equating driving after little or no sleep, to driving drunk. I want my surgeon to have had a full night's sleep. Same with my pilot. And if I had kids in school, I would certainly would rather their teacher was fully rested...

Here Arianna Huffington talks about the culture change. What do you think? Can we be part of the change? 

Marathon

D and I are keen long-distance runners. He is fast and I am not, but we both enjoy the training for races the preparation, the anticipation, the pain and the pleasure of starting and of finishing. Not of winning, but of being part of the process, of the communal experience, of, what I see as a huge celebration of life. This might be the reason why I have likened our journey to parenthood to a race.

When we first started thinking about trying for a family we expected it to be a sprint. Many people around us (most it felt like at the time, and feels that way often) would decide to start a family and then, usually around a year later, would have a healthy, bouncy baby in their arms. In fact most of the people who got married around the same time as we did (5 years ago) or even after us, now have one, some even have two, babies.

And so we thought it would be simple. While trying to get pregnant, it started to dawn on me that maybe not, maybe it would not be a 100m sprint – maybe it was a hurdles race, but that too was OK: we had already learnt that we were good at hurdles, D and I.

After getting pregnant and losing the pregnancy at three months we had to re-evaluate. Most people, my doctor included, simply saw this as a small bump (pun wholly unintended) on the road and that, in fact, we would be pregnant again in no time and we’d have our very own baby soon.

They were right, in part. I fell pregnant again shortly after, barely two months after my first pregnancy. They were not right about the second part, though. I miscarried again at 11 weeks.

Things were looking bleak. The race was getting longer and it was becoming clear, to me at least, that nobody knew quite how long it would actually be. Especially as, after some surgery to remove the defunct placenta from my uterus, it seemed unlikely that I would ever be able to get pregnant again.

The race was evolving from a simple 400m hurdles, to the gruelling 3000 metre steeplechase. And the sad fact of the matter was, I had not prepared for it, I had not trained, had not expected to be running so far and was feeling pretty knackered already.

A year later and several surgical procedures, some complications, a post-operative infection and quite a few weeks spent in a hospital setting, I got pregnant again! The race seemed to be nearing its end – I could see the finish line and I thought all I had to do was sprint to the end.

It was not to be, the finish line was to be moved once more and I was to be informed that actually, this was not a simple track race after all – this was turning into a road race – possibly a marathon.

Marathons take grit and determination, they take commitment and preparation and they take the unwavering belief that you are doing the right thing – no doubt can creep into the preparation for a marathon. Adoption was definitely a marathon and we entered prepared. At the same time, all around us, people entered parenthood with what seemed like minimal effort.

But as our marathon unfolds, as we run through the mile markers it is becoming obvious that this is no ordinary marathon. That even in this path that we have chosen, the route is unmarked and, in fact, it is not a simple road race, but a trail marathon, the length of which is undisclosed.

We are somewhere around mile 23, somewhere high in the clouds, led by a compass we are not sure is working, with a map that has several holes in it, but always, always maintaining the belief that somewhere out there is a finish line for us. That, if nothing else, our path to parenthood has challenged us in so many ways that it has made us stronger. That our unwavering belief that we want to be part of this race will carry us through the darkness after:  the tough days of parenting. Because the finish line is not the goal at all, in the end. Because the finish line is also a start line to the rest of our lives. 

Taking things personally...

...and letting go!

I am guilty as charged. I am one of those people. I do take things personally. I read this post on Agnostic Adoption's blog. (I think it needs to make it into my adoption resources page!) and it made sense! 

I loved the graph, I loved the advice and I sorely needed it. But what really resonated was one phrase. Here it is: " If your referral/match doesn’t work out I recommend thinking of the event as “what happened” as opposed to “what happened to me”."

Oh my goodness this rang some bells! That is exactly how I think. Not just in the adoption process, but in everything in life (here is a link to the insanity in full swing in my post The Queue of Life). Everything is personal. My dad's illness and death. D's two years of unemployment. The losses we suffered while trying to become parents. The adoption wait. At some point, it has all become personal. At some point, however, I have also had to let it go and move on.

The main way for me to move on seems to be to get away from the personal, get away from this "what happened to me" and see things simply as they are: "what happened". 

I had one of those moments a couple of days ago. After more waiting and phonecalls with out lawyer, and with adoptive parents in-country, after yet another setback and moving of our court date further into the uncertain fogginess of the future, I broke down. The thinking was just that: "Look what has happened to us!"
Sensitised further by our prior losses, carrying our baggage firmly on our backs, we questioned whether we are "meant to" become parents. Once more. 

D spoke to me with more patience and more wisdom than I have ever possessed (and this is how I know he is meant to become a parent...). He soothed me and presented the facts, just as facts, taking the ego out of it all. This is simply what happened. We move on.

I feel lighter. I have admitted to myself that I have no control, apart from taking my response to this and "fixing" it. I wait and I march on. I have taken the personal out of it! I, at least for now, have let it go!

The Tuesday TED talk

I love listening to TED talks. I usually do so while sitting on my turbo trainer (for those not familiar with cyclist-lingo, this is the contraption that one clips their bike onto in order to turn it into a stationary bike... the potential for boredom is immense).

I tend to train in the morning (that Extra Hour I have often raved about) and I love that I can do my exercise and get exciting, useful, innovative ideas at the same time. It really starts my day with a bang and gets me all inspired! The format suits me well too, I only have 30 minutes or so to get it all in, so I usually manage to watch two of these videos during my morning session.

From now on, on Tuesdays I would like to share one of the TED talks that I have recently listened to that has made a difference to me: that has changed the way I think about something. 

Here is today's: 

(The link does not work in some browsers so here's another link, the old fashioned way How to Make Stress your Friend)

Kelly McGonigal is a health psychologist from Stanford University. This fourteen minutes should change the way you think about stress forever, and, as the evidence she presents shows, that alone, your perception of stress, can be one of the major factors of whether stress affects you negatively or not. I think it is a very powerful message, so, if you can spare 14 minutes, watch this! 

The Week Just Gone

Bronchitis! That's been what my week has mostly been about. A hacking cough, a burning chest, some difficulty breathing. Not great! No fever, no chills, just fatigue. In fact, if I am honest with myself I have had this for close to a month now, since my last cold. It left behind a niggling cough that seems to have worked its way down into my chest. So... here we are. Bronchitis!

The problem with being a little sick (not enough to not go into work) is that life becomes completely sterile. It becomes a race to Friday, a wake-up, go-to-work, try-to-make-it-through-the-day, go-to-sleep, rinse and repeat pattern. All pleasure seeps out. I realise that is largely because of how my life is structured: my priorities is (at this point has to be) work. The rest, the fun stuff, the exciting stuff, the stuff that keeps me happy gets lost in the effort to survive. That's because the "fun stuff" happens in The Extra Hour. And, when sick, the extra hour is useful in other ways... like some extra sleep.

However... I've made it to the weekend. The glorious weekend, with the luxury of time! With the possibility of sleeping for an extra hour and walking the dogs. And then, if I want to, I can also write! Oh, the luxury of time! 

We are also going away this weekend, to the island of Hydra. It is but a couple of hours from our house, and before we moved here we had vowed to visit regularly, but life got in the way and our weekends got taken over by other things. Well, today D and I are off to rediscover the first island that we ever visited as a couple (albeit for a race, which I will not be able to participate in because of the aforementioned bronchitis). 

A picture taken by D on our return trip, back in October 2007, a few months before we moved to Greece and after our first visit. 

Why I don't feel bad for going to bed at 10

(or sometimes before...)

I listen to a lot of podcasts, usually when walking in town or on public transport, and one of them caught my attention this week. It was on the Harvard Business Review podcast and it really resonated with me. Here is a blogpost on the HBR that is related, but as I am not sure how to link to a podcast on itunes (anyone?) you can search for it, if you want to hear it, it is episode 359: Attacking the Sleep Conspiracy of the HBR IdeaCast.

It resonated for several reasons, but one of them is very simple: it gave me a reason to continue to go to bed at 10! I have many friends and acquaintanced who find my bedtime hours weird, and it is often a topic of discussion, especially here in Greece. 

There is a certain "glamour" attached to staying up late, burning the midnight oil and being so busy that you have no time to sleep. I have chosen to reject it in my life, as for me the benefits of 8 hours of good quaality sleep are obvious, but now I have science to back me up. 

Russell Sanna, who is the executive director of the Division of Sleep Medicine at Harvard Medical School talks about a culture-shift in sleeping behaviours, similar to the shift that happened in cigarette smoking and healthy eating. I have often thought of that - yet it was just wonderful to hear it from someone, well, ahem, qualified. 

So tonight I have all the more reason to go to bed early, turn the light off before ten and feel good about getting my full eight hours of sleep, knowing that I am doing something good for my health!

Pretty little girls

This article  has really got me thinking. Has really got me evaluating my responses, looking at my values once more and thinking more about the sort of world I would like my daughter to grow up in. Rebecca Adlington, the most successful British swimmer at the moment, has been hounded for her appearance: for her strong body and for her big nose. She does not conform to the "ideal" and that is worthy of all sorts of criticism, it seems.

It is becoming more and more obvious to me that you are not successful as a woman, in the eyes of the media at least, unless you are pretty. Or rather, you can be successful, like Rebecca Adlington is, no doubt, only for people to talk about how you are not pretty, like all other successful women should be. 

It makes me so angry! It makes me angry that in 2014 we still judge women not only by their achievements, but by the way they look. And it makes me angry that as a society we still value pretty women above sporty women, above clever women, above talented women. 

As a teacher, I find myself falling into this trap occasionally, so deeply ingrained it is. I spoke about it on my post The World of Little Girls and I do find myself complementing girls on their shoes, or their hair, although I often catch myself and make a point of giving "equal" comments to all. 

How do we show our girls that being pretty is not the be-all and end-all of life? How do we show them that we value them as athletes, as musicians, as writers, as lawyers, regardless of how they look? How do we bolster their self esteem so they know that whatever their age, whatever their skin colour, whether their hair is straight or curly or kinky-to-the-point-of-being-unruly, that's ok, they can be smart and polite, they can be talented and the world won't care?

I am not sure - I am yet to find out. Suggestions always welcome! But I dream of a world where successful women do not get taunted about their looks, but are celebrated and respected the way they should be. 

The Road to Simplicity - losing the books?

When we moved to Greece almost six years ago we came with 26 boxes. 26 small boxes, altogether about a 1.5 cubic metres. Oh, and 5 of those boxes were bicycles.

We had very little, as we gave a lot of stuff away, sold some more stuff and donated to charity. We felt light and moveable. It felt liberating not to be weighed down by stuff. It hadn't been a long process either - it came quite naturally to both of us and felt a little like a game: how small could we get our baggage into our new life to be?

I even overcame my aversion to giving away books and donated several boxes full to our local charity shop*. It felt good. I have hardly ever missed one of those books. 

In this moment in our life, during the wait, we have made the decision to re-simplify. To declutter once more. Greece has marked a change in us, we consume a lot less than we ever did in London. That's partly attributed to "having gone off grid a little" and I did notice last time I was in the UK how everyone around me seemed to be wearing new clothes - my clothes looked tatty and old (and they are only 4 or 5 years old). 

My intentions to simplify were bolstered by this post and this blog. It all made sense. It was just what we needed and as our life is about to get more complicated in other ways, well, it made quite a bit of sense to simplify in others. 

I looked at the books, currently proud residents of what will hopefully become the "kids'" bedroom. 

These are my books: the books I have collected over several years of reading, studying, university. The books that people have given me as presents, I have bought for myself, I have looked for in second-hand bookshops. I have cracked their spines and read them - I have enjoyed their company.

These are our books too - the ones we bought together as a couple, the ones we have read and discussed. How could I get rid of them?

I am still not sure what to do. The reality of the matter is I very rarely re-read a book. I love reading them the first time round, relish their company, dive into the content. Yet I don't like to go back - unless looking for a reference and rarely re-read a whole book. 

And then of course there is my Kindle. And that too is full of books, electronic ones. And part of the reason I bought it is because it is much easier to buy English books in Greece in electronic form, but the other reason is that I was slowly becoming aware of the book-crisis in our house... We were running our of space!

And so I sit and contemplate and wonder if any of the advice in that article is useful to me. I make bargains (if I simplify our kitchen, then surely I can keep the books). I think of ways to get rid of them, but to also keep them (we have a big storage spot in our attic). I think how, one day, our kids might weant to read this book - in a way it is a legacy to all we have ever read, to all we have thought important. 

I have not made a decision about the books yet. I keep them there, look at them, consider carefully what their future holds. And to date, I have not thrown a single one away!

*The decision is all the more complicate because there are no charity shops to donate these books and so I would have to throw them away. And there is a big part of me that feels that books should never ever be thrown away! Hmmm... I think we are doomed to live in a library! 

Duality

(or why life is not always black or white)

I am not a physicist, but I love science. There is much comfort in the certainty, the replicability of it all. There is a semblance of knowledge, an inkling of control, that very much appeals to my inner control-freak. 

I was listening to a podcast the other day, that discussed wave-particle duality and it really resonated with me. 

We are brought up to believe in dualities, in false dichotomies: it is either A or B. Children are taught to think that way, because, in reality, at a younger age that's all our brains might be able to understand. 

I find myself doing that a lot when teaching: at that age (7-9) the moral code has to be dual for most children, it is difficult to explain to children than life can be... well... different shades of grey. In the same way, we want to believe that things are either A, or B and it is difficult for us, conceptually, I guess to see that the same thing could simultaneously be both A and B (and C and D and many things beside).

Yet some of us never grow out of this dual nature of life. We judge people absolutely: he is either good or bad. It is either black or white. We make these judhements daily (OK, I make such judgements daily) and it is difficult when we are confronted with evidence to the contrary. 

A lof of what I have been thinking, a lot of my ramblings, are linked to adoption, actually. And how some people want to see it as simply good, or simply bad. Experience keeps teaching me more and more that life is way more complicated than that and the simple pigeon holes we make for big ideas (adoption included, but also democracy, the free market, globalisation etc) are only there to fulfil our wish for duality. 

Life seems to be a lot more complicated than that... 

(Sorry for the philosophical post. It's been brewing awhile. Also, if you are a physicist and can explain this wave-particle duality to me in more depth, I'd love to hear from you!)

On Silver Linings

We have had unusually cloudy weather for the last couple of weeks. Spring does bring its showers, but this year the clouds that have come have really been so impressive to behold. This, coupled with my fourth anniversary of my dad's death and the difficulties in our adoption process has really got me thinking about clouds and their silver linings. 

I am slowly realising that the often-used saying about every cloud having a silver lining, is in fact true. And it seems to me that often, the darker the clour the more shiny its lining too. Here are the "darkest clouds" of my last few years and their silver linings...

1. My dad's illness

Cancer is ugly. It can suck the life out of a person, it can reduce their physical body to something still alive, but fundamentally dead. That happened to my dad and in a way, looking for a silver lining here is not easy. It did, however, show me that the spirit is much more resilient than the body. My dad remained strong and full of life, in spirit, until the end. 

My dad's illness also brought us to Greece. Although that journey seemed (and was) hard at the time, here we are now. And being in Greece has facilitated, through its own difficulties, some of our biggest successes. 

2. My dad's death

My dad's death taught me to value life. Here's one of my posts about it, on my old blog, the day after my dad died. Life goes on. Life is short. Life should be full of the things that matter. Those lessons were my silver lining. 

3. My miscarriages

At the time they felt like the biggest, greyest cloud. It felt like we would never resurface. And yet we did, and now we are waiting to be parents for the first time, through adoption. Adoption is not the only silver lining for us. Those losses have made me hugely more empathic. They have made me think about the magnitude of the losses my future children will have felt by the time they come to us. I am a different person for having lost and gone on. For having learnt to adjust the sails. 

4. D's unemployment

One of the obstacles we had to face after moving to Greece, back in 2008 and in the midst of the crisis, was that D was not able to find a job. He had been a banker for 12 years and the crisis, coupled with a lack of Greek and a lack of connections, meant that he could not find a job. He kept looking, with undiminished energy, but I could see, in the way he was, in his demeanour and enthusiasm (or lack thereof) that each month of unemployment was taking something away from him. 

I guess unemployment can be partucularly difficult for men, especially if they have been working ever since their late teens and D was no exception. The cloud was large and unmoving, lingering over our lives and casting its shadow on many areas. 

The silver lining: D decided to follow his dreams and change careers. He took a year our where he retrained as a teacher, and in 2011 he started teaching at an international school in Athens. Again,  adjusting the sails was needed, but fortune favours the brave... and it worked out in the end. 

5. The difficulties in the adoption process

Anyone who has adopted, or has even considered adoption is aware of the difficulties of the process. They know about the endless paper-chase, the doctors and social workers, the lawyers and other professionals that are involved in creating a family through adoption. They know of the painful wait before the match, and what feels like the even more painful wait after the match too. They can imagine the difficulties when laws and regulations change, when unexpected obstacles appear in your way. 

But here's something I am convinced of, which I also heard on a podcast I was listening to the other day from Creating a Family (an amazing resource, if you are considering adoption). 

They mentioned, on the podcast, that people who have experienced infertility or other dfficulties in creating their family (and I guess adoption fits in well here), those people who have had to really struggle to become parents, tend to have a more positive experience when they do eventually become parents. I call it Conscious Parenthood and I hope to write about it soon. 

I look forward to this silver lining!

Finally... here is what I have learnt about clouds and silver linings:

It takes time for silver linings to appear. They are there, no doubt about it, but while you are under that dark cloud, everything looks unbearably grey - you cannot see the silver lining, sometimes because you simply cannot look up to find it, and sometimes because the darkness is overbearing. But the silver lining comes... eventually... even if it takes four years and a lot of tears. 

Four Years

Today, 6th March, marks four years without my dad. 

I still miss him, though life has taken over to a large extent. I think of him every day, and the memories only get sweeter and sweeter. 

I definitely was a daddy's girl...

The 10 things I've done (or do) that make me happier

I have been reading a lot on the science behind happiness and well-being, as part of a project I am preparing. It has always fascinated me and I love seeing the evidence behind the hypothesis. When one reads such research, it is often difficult not to look at one's life a bit closer, make comparisons and even, if one can, make changes. 

I have compiled here, my personal list of things that I have done, or do on a daily basis that make me happier. I would like to revisit these in later posts, to look at each one in more depth, look ay research and find out the mechanisms, perhaps, in which these habits/actions add to our life-satisfaction. 

1. I got my dogs

Dogs are an infinite source of happiness in our household. Yes, they are also a source of stress, but the joy far outweighs the stress. I never thought we would have ended up with four, but life happened and here they are:

I love how they love me and I love how I love them. They are loyal and devoted, they are fluffy and cuddly. A lot of friends and acquaintances ask me how I can cope with the hair (I don't care, we just have to hoover more often), the expense (do people ask this question about kids too?), the walking (we walk them when we go running, almost daily) and many other such things. For us the dogs are part of the family. And at the end of the day, I would not change them for the world! 

2. I spend time outside

Linked to the above in some ways, at least, this is one habit of happy people that makes sense. Spending time outside, especially in nature, is known to make us feel better, calmer, happier. More on the research in a next post. Here is last evening's walk (despite my stinking cold):

And the sky as the sun went down...

Which links to...

3. I live on a mountain

After having lived here, on the mountain, for the last four years, I don't think I could live somewhere urban again. I love waking up to the sun rising over the sea and, just as much, watching the moon rise out of it in the evening. 

I love the view from my bathroom, 

and the view from my bed. 

Yes, the nearest shop might be five kilometres away, and the nearest metro stop 7, but I would not change this for the world! 

4. My short commute

It's not me who says it, it's science. People with shorter commutes tend to be happier. It takes us about 10 minutes and one traffic light to get to work in the morning - can't beat it! Plus, my drive to work is through vineyards and olive groves. 

Yes, occasionally we get delayed by sheep blocking the road. Better than a traffic jam! 

5. I got rid of my TV

I wish it were that D and I were so intellectual and cool that one day we decided we no longer needed out TV. I fear it was not exactly so. Instead what happened was that Greek TV went from analogue to digital. That would have required us to either get a sort of digi-box, or purchase a new TV. It seemed to us that it was not worth the fuss... so we stayed without a TV for a while. Almost two years later it transpires that it was the best decision we ever made! Less TV means more time for reading, talking, cooking and many other things. We still have our TV set, and we do watch the occasional DVD or series. But we watch less than an hour each day, often a lot less and that's the way we like it!

Linked to that is...

6. I'm on a news fast

I grappled a lot with this one. It kind of jars with my image of myself as a responsible citizen. But without a TV I have a lot less access to the news, especially the kind of news that used to make me anxious and sometimes scared to sleep in my bed at night. Some might argue that not knowing about the dangers out there does not mean they do not exist, but I truly believe I am a lot happier and much calmer without TV news. I still look at selected internet sites two or three times a week for a news roundup. And I still live in a world where, if something big happens, I will somehow find out! More on that later, for sure!

7. I wake up early

Yes, all about that extra hour again. I will not go on about it. If you want to read about me raving about it click here and here .

8. I became a teacher

I love children. I love being with them, chatting to them, I love seeing them find out, grow up, ask questions. I have loved being a teacher ever since I started, 10 years ago. There are things about the profession I do not like, but the children are not one of them! Teaching gives me a sense of purpose, meaning and inspires my sense of wonder. What more can one ask from a job?

9. I keep a gratitude journal

I started that in October last year. I use a simple app on my phone, which keeps all my moments of gratitude in a gratitude journal. I find at least one good thing to say about each day. I feel it has made me appreciate life more. Studies confirm that... More on that later.

10. I got married

Ok, so I don't actually mean that the wedding part of it has added to my happiness (although we had two of them, and they were both just great)!

But having a life partner, one like D, is probably my single most profound source of happiness. I thank my lucky stars regularly (see above).