Tuesday, 24 February 2015

Make do and mend.

During world war two, a pamphlet was published, called 'Make do and Mend', which offered advice on how to be both frugal and stylish during harsh times of rationing. My own nanny tells me stories of her own experience of this and it strikes me that, in some ways, aren't we all in the process of a make do and mend? Stick with it, reader, it's a hazy metaphor I'm working on here.

Now, I feel privileged to live in a time and place where I can provide for my son and myself, with the support of our family. I may buy many of our clothes and home items from charity and second hand shops, but I still feel privileged in our everyday life. We have a home, subsistence and safety, with the addition of love and fun.

Emotionally, however, a little wartime make do and mend may be more common than it first appears. My life is emotionally full of love and joy, but there still lies a small sense of making do, in terms of expectation. My life wasn't meant to look like this. A single Mum, working full time. To make do for me means not to settle, but to enjoy everything I have. To feel privileged, rather than cursed. To feel blessed in every simple joy, rather than disappointed by those who wrong me. Making do is thankful and peaceful.

As for the mending. Well, that's a huge project, which isn't over just yet. Slowly but surely I have been mending the damage to my dream and my stitching isn't bad. Sometimes, the stitches come loose or someone catches them and leaves a snag in our beautiful patchwork creation. The key is that I have good tools, positive skills and the ability to keep on mending, no matter how many times things break. Mending is strengthening and empowering.

So, there it is: a rather odd analogy for sorting shit out. Luckily, you've finished reading it and can resume usual procedures.

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