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Job done

This is a big moment for me writing this blog. One of those moments numerous mothers of a certain age will understand. When the real process of letting go begins. Yes it's the stomach churning, nervous wreck moment of leaving your child (adult by age) home alone for the first time, while you actually leave the country to have 'you' time. I use the phrase 'you time' loosely. Those bloody maternal ties keep nagging, not budging one inch and the process of relaxation or even letting go is under constant scrutiny.

So to recap, my clever idea happened a month ago. Yes I thought I deserve some 'me' time. He's old enough I tell myself. Then it begins to unfold. Before I know it, the book button is pressed and my holiday is in the hands of the gods so to speak. Shaded under an umbrella of excitement, I felt like the ultimate dude of all dudesses - I know its not actually a word but at this moment in time it sums up the whole process nicely. Forgiveness required. From whom I am not sure because delusional vibes have set in. Possibly to myself for even writing this blog in the first place and sharing it with you.

The morning of departure arrives. No sleep the night before. Waking up in a sweat with the added bonus of palpitations for an added cute little extra. Dear god rattling through my mind on continual play. Constantly repeating my manta 'I can do this' over and over again while I take my morning shower. Is it helping? Not sure. Ask me on my return.

So I seal my suit case, book the taxi to go to the airport and think to myself - what the fuck am I doing? Does this sound familiar to anyone?

While I'm away 'enjoying' myself, my mind is constantly doing my head in (favourite Scottish saying).

What is this shit I keep asking myself? Ok, so I do regard myself as a conscious person. Come on, I am a spiritual life coach after all. Well, let me tell you, it has gifted me the knowledge of jolting my ego into submission like never before and let me tell you why. That'll be the mega reality check.

Was I never my sons age? Oh god, thats why I have the sweaty palpitations. No really, stop the jesting and get serious. Not something I do often - I really like my immature inner child. In fact I love her. Actually more and more as I get older. But I need to be a sensible mother. Sigh. Really? Do I really?

Have I turned into my mother? Her tactics were majestic. I mean the queen of all queens when it came to managing her feisty daughter. I don't think I can give myself the same credit as her. She was far more diplomatic. Heavenly mama, I hope you are reading this and laughing.

So here it is, to my darling son. I am sorry for the projection of my negative vibes. Yes your mother is apologising to you big time and I will tag you in everything.

You can have an issue with me later. Love you.

Ps, got home and the house was still standing. I'm over it. I'm over myself. Now, time to plan my next adventure....

Natalie Alexander

"Make your life a story worth telling"