Today's window takes party hats as its subject, to be more precise it references all the different hats that we find ourselves wearing. At this time of the year, I've got my chef hat ready, my elf hat for all the little jobs that I'll be helping Santa with at our house, my maid hat as we welcome all our guests, my dog-walking hat, Mum hat, wife hat, daughter hat - and that's just for the festive season. No matter what we're feeling, we put on a party hat for the benefit of others don't we? Thinking about all the differing roles we juggle throughout our family, work and social lives, it's a wonder we don't forget who we are at times.
Writing this reminds me of threads that ran through my memoir - 'Finding My Way.' This book explored the different roles that I found myself adopting through motherhood, midlife and menopause and discussed my feelings as I metaphorically hung up some hats in exchange for new ones. My teacher's hat has been left on the peg since 2018 and instead I have become accustomed to wearing my writer's one. I still struggle to go straight to labelling myself in that manner when asked what I do, but I'm getting there.
In the spirit of self-acceptance and to wear my writer's hat with pride for today's author advent window, I am sharing the introduction to my memoir. This was my first book, my first time standing in a room telling people that I am an author and this is how I wrote my book, my first time stepping outside of my comfort zone to say 'look at what I have written.' Reading today's #throwbackthursday moment will give you a flavour of the memoir and maybe you'd like to read more, or ask Santa to pop a copy in your stocking. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Big Girls Do Cry (Sometimes)
The trouble with being a grown-up, and having been one for quite so long a time, is that you're supposed to know all the answers. A tumultuous year on from the point where I began to document my inner thoughts, there has been a lot that has tumbled onto these pages and I am still looking for answers.
Life presents many twists and turns and times when the path ahead seems completely unclear - when stumbling along and trying to keep a steady foothold feels like a nigh on impossible task. Many of the curved balls that life has thrown my way have made their mark upon me, particularly in recent years. These have found their way into the passages that slowly formed a blog. Being of a certain generation, the mere act of setting up a blog - a platform from which to communicate my thoughts - was a scary premise and one that still feels unfamiliar to me. As for the writing, once I began, the words found their way from the recesses of my mind to a series of articles that appear to have made sense to a number of people.
The writing, much like the seemingly haphazard pattern of life, takes the direction and pace of a runaway train at times. Rather like a thrill ride at a theme park, it has felt out of control, with no planned destination and yet, amongst the uneasy ride, there will be the odd glimpse of a panoramic view: the clarity of a truth, the reassurance of a personal revelation, giving the rider just enough brief relief to snatch a breath and continue on with the journey.
The experiences and frustrations that have felt uniquely mine have become shared, striking chords in others and allowing deeper analysis of their impact or resolution through the mere act of being recorded, commented upon and thereby instigating further exploration. At the risk of that all sounding rather highbrow - I suppose it boils down to the old adage "A problem shared..." Yet it has more power within the written word than when choosing to chat about a worry or dilemma with a friend over a glass of wine.
Form my part, the times when I have felt that the writing is good is when it has come from a dark beginning and I have felt it unlocking a door that I have fought hard to keep locked up over time. These have been the times when I have cried. Cried as I have written the words or read them back aloud, to check with those appearing within my pages that it is okay to proceed. Yes, I am a big girl - whether by definition an adult or of a certain size, both criteria apply - and i do cry sometimes. In fact it has been the unlocking of these doors that has helped me to realise that it is acceptable to cry and actually it should be encouraged in order to process emotions and to heal and to know that you need to ask those that matter to you for their continued support.
We all have the doors I speak of, those feelings that are safer to lock away until a time that you feel ready to confront them, or until circumstances mean that you are forced to stand and face the dragon - sometimes alone, sometimes with someone you trust by your side to make the whole process more manageable. Some of the doors I have opened have had labels familiar to many: "GRIEF" "LOSS" "CONFIDENCE" These are just some that immediately spring to mind.
By their very nature, these doors have concealed a lot of baggage behind them waiting to be unpacked, much like doing battle with a ramshackle pile of boxed up memories in a forgotten, dusty attic room. As you stumble upon a faded photograph of a lost loved one you have the capacity to be back in time, in that moment, experiencing both the joy of the memory and the snap of a fragment of your heart breaking afresh for the loss. Though the sadness is bitter, it doesn't mean that the memory is too. By opening these doors, you have to face it all, but in doing so you are tentatively building a confidence, a resilience to keep wiping away the dust.
I admit that the writing has forced me into facing emotions, processing thoughts and experiences that in all honesty I had not even realised I was locking away. As it has been a documenting of a personal journey, the worry is that it is merely that: a way for me to face my issues and of no consequence to anyone else. yet the details I have documented are the details of the everyday, reflected and repeated in so many ways across all aspects of our lives.
My writing has helped me by the fact that it has been an honest outpouring. In that, I hope lies its strength and appeal to an audience. An honest account of life as a Mum, a wife, a daughter, a friend, a mixed-up and muddled woman with no better clue of answering life's questions in my midlife years than I had when I could first say I was an adult. Then again, if anyone tells you that they have all the answers then they're either lying or deluded and on both counts you're probably better leaving them to it whilst you go grab a drink with a friend who remains as confused by life as you are.
With all that said, what lies ahead is both a reflection of my journey in writing and my personal journey developing my own well-being. I have drawn upon the collection of articles that I have posted within the pages of my blog over the last year and used them as inspiration for the wider story told within this book. They have no particular pattern, no organisation by category, yet they are recorded here in the order they appeared. This is in the hope that they reflect the journey that was made in writing them, as often one piece led to another. Accompanying them I have offered a retrospective narrative, sometimes considering a motivation for my original thoughts, sometimes offering a fresh perspective as it is true that we can all be wiser with the benefit of hindsight. At points in this book, I have indulged the poet within me, allowing the rhythm and imagery that poetry provides to further illustrate the narrative.
May the resulting pages serve you, as they have served me, in being a window on feelings and events that nave been at different times, sad, funny, thought provoking but definitely honest, from all of that may they prove a worthwhile read.
'Some days you have to sift through the darkness to find a glimmer that can develop into something; a piece of writing from the soul, whether it matters to anyone else or not, the fact that you found that spark is the start...'
Karen Honnor - January 2019
Chapter 1 - 'Finding My Way.' 2019
The many roles that I explore in the memoir are something that I have returned to many times as my writing has developed. Perhaps the poem that I finish with today, encapsulates it best.
Who am I?
I am a woman,
I am a friend,
I am a mother -
a job with no end.
I am a writer
Overthinking my art,
I'm a performer
with dance at my heart.
I am a listener,
I try to be kind,
I walk among trees
to help settle my mind.
I am a thinker,
A daughter, a wife,
I bake and drink coffee
and reflect on my life.
I taught many children,
Helped confidence grow,
Worked long hours and gave more
than many will know.
I bruise just like others,
I laugh and I cry,
Yet I struggle to answer, when asked
"Who am I?"
Karen Honnor - 'Just Take Five - A Contemporary Poetry Collection' 2022
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