Over the years of loss and complications trying to conceive, I have had to work out how to stay mentally well. It’s a full-time job, to be honest. Being open to the world around me helps me to take a much needed break from constant loop-like thoughts about my situation. ‘Moments of Note’ is a little project of mine to ensure I’m noticing, resonating and engaging with objects, people, feelings, ideas beyond the very narrow, often suffocating world of infertility. Naturally, as I do this I’m able to analyse my inner landscape, which invariably links to my perceptions of these moments. There is a reciprocity. An echo between what resonates externally and what is going on inside. What are your recent ‘Moments of Note’ and where exactly do they echo?
One
The local school teachers were on strike and two teenage boys were making full use of their mid-week day off. They had gone fishing together.
I imagined the two of them organising to do this gentle, unassuming activity — resisting the temptation to stay in bed all day and do nothing, see no one and speak half an eggshell of words.
How they had chosen nature and companionship instead.
This fact alone warmed my heart. Recollecting the sheer romance of a secondary school friendship, where time and trust were spent so exorbitantly.
I was walking my dog behind them on their way to the petrol station to get things teenage boys buy after a day on the canal —luminous drinks, sweets with ingredients suited to chemistry lessons, maybe the big ‘grab bag’ of Walkers crisps to share? I was struck by how comforting it was to see their hands full carrying rods, tackle bags slung over shoulders, marching along exchanging thoughts and eye contact in a way that felt so rare. I wondered why this scene felt so unusual, so different? Suddenly noticing what they weren’t carrying with their gear, what they weren’t breaking eye contact and flowing conversion for.
Their phones.
The unease of learning I now saw two phone-less teenage boys as an oddity. That my brain noted the distinct difference in how they were relating to each other, striding with a relaxed ease through the world, how they seemed to take up space projecting outwards instead of reducing down towards a screen.
That they belonged in their bodies.
And simply, that they seemed so free.
Two
This sunset on the way back home from visiting my Nan was sublime.
The strip of cloud creates a blanket being pulled over the land — a ‘tucking in’ felt only as children — the pylons asking for the nightlight with its soft peach glow to be left on, the lower horizon a bedroom door left slightly ajar. Driving through this scene filled me with awe and the knowledge I’m only ever one great sunset away from falling deeper in love with my life.
Three
I had a full circle moment this Valentine’s day. I went to see one of my favourite bands ‘Tennis’ for the first time. In 2016, I was 32 and had stumbled upon their album ‘Ritual In Repeat’ whilst I dealt with discovering my partner of 15 years had been cheating on me with a 22-year old for the best part of a year.
It was a personal agony on a scale completely overwhelming to me at that point in my life. Their songs helped me to feel hopeful and eventually look forward to a completely different future to what I had always assumed was in store for me. The links between my emotional landscape then and now are surprisingly alike.
Even more satisfying is the full circle fact that it was actually Valentine's day six years ago that I started that alternate future. I woke up on the first morning of it in a tiny Airbnb room in a Wimbledon townhouse, having left my partner, our house and dog the day before.
I remember I was at work as a senior midwife in charge of labour ward that day. I set out from my new address before the sun had risen, to work a 12-hour shift on the first day of my new solo life. It was intoxicating. I recall being so happy and connected, like I had plugged myself back into the world. I wrote this poem on my commute:
And so my life truly begins, and it smells like cut grass that just bathed in rain.
I know I was listening to Tennis as I travelled on that train.
There’s a line in my favourite song from that album which sums up so much of the emotional maelstrom I was navigating back then, and even now:
“Lift your burdens high, my solar on the rise.” — Solar on the Rise/Tennis
The burdens are very different now, but recently that rising energy, the decision to shine has been stirring again.
Thinking back to that Valentine’s day is a way for me to tap into my power. An evidence log of the fact I can do hard things and that I’m endlessly gifted within crisis management (as much as that is an exhausting talent to own). Standing with my fiancé Joe, as Tennis took to the stage this week was so satisfying. I had a surge of admiration for the version of me back in 2017 that chose the hard, uncertain path, and an appreciation that I’m trudging a similar one now in the hopes a future version of me will be just as proud.
I’d love to hear about your own ‘Moments of Note’!
Jade x
“I’m only ever one great sunset away from falling deeper in love with my life.” Love this.
I'm really loving this moments of note series, its inspiring me to start noticing mine more.