beckity

  I grew up with the phrase 'pride comes before a fall'. It would come back to me if I felt too pleased with myself and made me cautious to celebrate achievement. What if I came across as boastful? What if I was too proud? Would the fall be bigger if I was REALLY proud? This time five years ago, I was overwhelmed with this life of mine, and headed into burnout. I had a toxic workplace and felt unable to keep up with the demands at home, I was stressed and overloaded. This time one year ago I was unemployed, and the state had decided it had supported me long enough. I was unsure of where my future led, heading into trying to make coaching work at the same time as keeping Madame Papillon, a project I had been working on since 2020 and which became an official association in 2022, developing and moving forward. I was much more sure of who I was and what I wanted but I was not settled or sure of the path forward. Now, at the end of 2024, I am coming to the end of a tempo...

It took me four years to consider going back to an office job. Building up an association had been new, meaningful, and something I could do at my own pace, surrounded by friends and supporters. Once my fried brain had rebuilt itself, once my fragile nervous systems had regained some resilience, once my exercise and wellbeing routines had been established, and (let's face it) when my last savings had gone and the Belgian state was no longer willing to support me, that's when I went back.  I was worried though. That final, decisive driving factor had been financial. Taking the development of the association at my own pace had meant slow but steady growth of the membership - their fees were enough to cover costs, but my work was voluntary. And it was work, not 'work'. I'd learned so much over those four years, about myself, about burnout, about Brussels beyond the bubble. I'd learned about my values and behaviour patterns, not least through my coaching training, a...

It only took three months in the end, but during that time the weeks seemed so long.  Cover letters, CVs adapted to the positions. I made sure I kept to some basic rules about what I applied for - always membership related in networks, always European level, always values based. I'd started looking for part time positions, but they were few and far between. Interviews went well. I talked about my experience, all of it. I deconstructed the burnout, the period afterwards, setting up the association and why I felt ready for something new. I remembered what I loved about the European context, reassuring potential employers that yes, I am Belgian now. I questioned myself often. Is this what I really want? Is financial stability after four years of ever reducing income enough to compensate for the freedom I've had? Do the personal development work, coaching training and beginnings of a coaching business have less value now? Will I still be able to support the development of my belove...

A few days ago, Molly, already in a state of some annoyance, saw Louise eating Easter chocolate, got to her feet and shouted.  ‘Hey! That’s my chocolate you’re eating!’ Louise, a look of terror on her face, tried to defend herself. ‘I didn’t know! It was in the box, it’s my box!’ The two boxes were very similar. It was an easy mistake. Molly stormed about, slamming things and muttering about how she didn’t like other people touching her belongings, especially food! I put my arm around Louise and looked into her teary face. ‘You made a mistake. It’s not so terrible.’ ‘But Molly’s cross’ she said, her eyes wide and worried. I put extra effort into supporting Molly in the following couple of days. After a period of relative calm she had a couple of meltdowns and I tried different approaches, trying to be patient and understanding, but also losing my cool on occasion. It ended each time in a heart to heart cuddle on the sofa. The second time I got a note explaining what had prompted th...

I find it hard. 👩🏽 I am a white, able-bodied, heterosexual, university-educated, mother of three healthy children with an employed supportive partner, also supported by the state in the country I migrated to. 🍀 I have so many layers of privilege, and even I find it hard. 👨🏽 I find it hard to be a woman in a world where patriarchal societies are the norm. 🦋 I find it hard to maintain motivation for the values-driven work I am involved in with  Madame Papillon , supporting women after burnout (caused in part by the hustle culture of those patriarchal societies) when it is still voluntary work (although that third subsidy request hasn't been rejected yet...) and the household bills seem to multiply. 🚸 I find it hard to bring up my children to know their own minds, think critically when presented with information and recognise their needs while acting with kindness and integrity when they are exposed to an unregulated and unsafe online world, and a real world where inspiring sto...

There's something about cycling down a bike lane with a 5 year old that makes you glad to be alive. Until she starts whining about her legs hurting, or says 'I know!' with such disdain when you warn her of an upcoming crossing, or nearly gets crushed by a car at a tricky junction. Then it's more jarring. I was happy about it today though - we went to school together on our bikes; her little legs whizzing round, the sun on our backs and the wind in our hair. After a couple of hours' work with a second child in the background, home because of a teacher training day, I decided to make the most of the good weather and we got on our bikes to go to the market. Not the Wednesday around the corner one, because it was Tuesday. The Tuesday one is a bit of a longer ride, but not far enough to get too much moaning out of the ten year old. We wheeled our bikes through the market, picking up some lobelia for the front door flower box; soap that had been forgotten during Marek...

Marek and I got up really early today. It was silly, before 7am, but it was the usual Saturday buzz - a day to get the things done we need to so we can relax on Sunday. Ha. Elsie had arranged to meet a school friend to sell cookies and cupcakes in the entrance of an exclusive supermarket to make money for their scout camps. She couldn't sleep and decided to make more cake, just in case. She expertly produced half a dozen plain, half a dozen chocolate and half a dozen choc chip cupcakes before leaving us the kitchen to tidy and the pans to clean, but she's only 12 so we let her off... Louise had Polish school in the morning so we left Molly home with the rabbits while we drove Elsie to meet her schoolfriend. Louise and I dropped her off, spoke to the friend's mum and stayed long enough for Louise to be their first client. She took a chocolate chip cookie for Polish school and a coconut thing I knew she wouldn't eat but paid them each a fiver to get them off to a good sta...

We called our burnout project Madame Papillon because of the transformational potential of burnout. The idea that when you are stuck in your crysalis in your burned out state, you cannot imagine the beauty of being a butterfly because you have always been a caterpillar but that actually having that time away from everything else, and turning inwards allows wonderful things to happen and only when you're ready can you reach your full potential. That thing of butterflies needing to break out of the cocoon to have the strength in their wings that they need to fly can be echoed in the personal development process that is necessary. I used to love singing. All my life I've been in bands and choirs and it was only in recent years that I stopped. Thanks to a contact made through Madame Papillon, I discovered a local community of musicians and other performers and started singing in a choir again. The choir led to a cabaret, which as well as featuring my choir and allowing me to rememb...

  Marek walks through the door and asks if I was ready. "Are we running?" I ask, taking a breathe, thinking about whether I wanted to run or not. "What about the bikes?" he suggests "We can test out that puncture I repaired." A much better idea! The sun was shining, the lunch break had only just started, we could head to the fields just beyond the cemetery and get a good hour's exercise in. *** As we cycled out of the trees into the fields, I took it all in and felt my body relax and smile. It's just so astounding, ten minutes from home in what feels like the middle of a capital city, and we're surrounded by corn.  "It's no good" I said. "I have to take a photo." I tend to take a picture at every available opportunity and in my never-ending attempts to be more present and appreciate the moment I've been trying to limit the number of photos I take. Not at all successfully. Just after I put my phone back, a wasp buzzed...

We were standing in the kitchen chatting, when a screech like I'd never heard before came in through the open window.  'What's that?' I wondered out loud, a sinking feeling reaching me before the realisation hit me just as Olha named it 'the rabbits?' The shrieking continued as I ran down the stairs and out into the garden, my feet moving beneath me without me telling them what to do.  As I arrived at the rabbit enclosure I looked over to see a red fox, inside the rabbit house. A voice I didn't recognise left my throat and shouted 'Oh My God!' The fox, which had had its jaws around Mocha's neck, let him go, and Mocha shot up the stairs into the upstairs, joining his brother Benek in the relative safety of the first floor. I reached in and shut the door at the top of ladder, keeping them inside before turning my attention to their attacker. The fox, disoriented, wasn't finding the door to get out so I stepped backwards and closed my mouth, whi...

'What's that in the birdhouse hole?' I looked up from the dishwasher. 'Er, looks like a bird to me.' 'Yes,' Marek said, 'But the parents have both come out. Is that one of the babies?' We looked out of the kitchen window at the birdhouse on the treehouse opposite.  The head looked out further from the hole, then suddenly in a flutter of wings, it emerged and landed on one of the branches of the treehouse tree. Louise gasped. 'It came out!' The parent birds both appeared suddenly, landing close to their fledgling and tweeting their hearts out. Even before my gaze had shifted back to the birdhouse, another baby bird appeared, zigzagging across the garden and coming to rest in the sour cherry tree. The parent birds were still perched on branches of the treehouse tree. Watching. One flew closer to the second baby. Right away a third appeared. No wonder those parent birds have been flying backwards and forwards non stop for weeks now. Three mouths...

We were on our way to pick up Elsie from a weekend scout camp. Marek driving, me in the front ready to jump out and get into the station on time, and Louise in the back, commenting on Brussels as it went past outside her car window. 'Oh, j'ai vu, j'ai vu...' she said as we circled the Schuman roundabout. 'What did you see, my love?' I ask, looking back over my shoulder. 'J'ai vu, le truc de l'equipe de Granny et Gra-Gra' 'The team?' I repeat, wondering what she means. 'Do you mean their country? Did you see the British flag?  'Oui, leur drapeau' she agrees, but she wasn't thinking of the Union Jack. 'La ! La !' she points, as we round the Berlaymont and drive past its many flagpoles. 'Voila le drapeau de Granny et Gra-Gra !'  You can tell she's the granddaughter of anti-Brexit campaigners. It was the EU flag.

 It had been a long day and little girls not listening was not helping. "Please Louise" my voice rose a little higher than I'd planned. "Just pass me the book, as I keep asking you." "Mamam!" she turned towards me, her big brown eyes wide and earnest. "Tu dois faire A DEEP BREATH!" The giggle worked just as well.

I stand in line behind an older woman, look over the couques spread out in front of me. The woman is handed her baguette and says she hasn't seen this market stall in St Gilles recently. 'Oh no, madame!' the baker says, ' I don't go there anymore, Sundays are off my list. It's my age you see.' 'You're right,' the woman says, 'you can't work all the time.' 'As it is, I do Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, FRIDAYS!' the baker settles into the conversation. 'And it's early starts...' The older woman continues to sympathise, and they turn to me for confirmation. 'Everyone needs to rest from time to time.' I agree. The women in front of me turns to face me and looks hard into my eyes. 'Il faut vivre, Madame!'

It was nice talking to your friend after school today Loulou. It's a pity you couldn't go to her party at the weekend. Do you remember why you didn't go? Oui, parce que j'étais fatiguée. That's right. You were tired and not feeling well.  J'etais malade et j'ai écouté my body. I guess having a mum post burnout impacts things more than we realise...

On Thursday 16 January 2020 I was having a quiet word with my team leader at my desk in our open plan office, before a meeting. I'd been feeling the strain and wanted to talk about moving from full time to 4/5ths. She knew it was something I'd been considering. "How are you doing at the moment?" she asked. I tried to answer, but let out a big sob instead.  After moving to the stairwell to dry my tears, we headed to the meeting. As my finance colleague showed us slides of graphs, I couldn't hear a word she was saying. I was sitting in a room with the entire office and all my energy was on stopping the tears sliding down my face. I was trying to slow my breathing, stop myself crying. It didn't work. A colleague across the room caught my eye. Her kind questioning look broke through my efforts. I got up quickly and excused myself. The HR person followed me out of the office and we went to a meeting room on another floor. For an hour, I let it all out. The frustra...

'Please mummy, why don't you want me to play on that one?' Molly pulled me over to the machine and stared through the glass at the coins, the teetering piles hanging over the abyss, the platforms pushing and pulling, tempting onlookers to try just one more coin, one more go... 'Molly, we've been through this my love' I repeat, slowly going through the explanation once more. 'Those machines they look like the piles of coins are going to fall, but they don't. Then you think just one more would do it, and before you know you have no money left.' 'But look mummy, that pile really is going to fall!' 'That's 2 zloty pieces, that's worth fifty euro cents! That's really a lot to put in in one go. When I was little we played with one and two pennies.' 'But mummy...'  'Listen, how about we compromise. You decide how many coins you ae prepared to lose and once they're gone, they're gone. OK?' 'OK, two coin...

A s the sun goes down on this year we will never forget, my heart is breaking a little bit. That the arrogance of British privilege and a misplaced sense of superiority should have won out over common sense and solidarity with friends and neighbours breaks my heart. That the people who have fought so tirelessly against the calculated lies and twisted promises of so-called leaders will now have to suffer the consequences of such a stupid decision breaks my heart. That the children of friends and strangers will no longer have the ease of movement among different lands that my children will continue to have breaks my heart. That people who have considered the UK their home and future and have contributed for years are now being treated as unwanted outsiders breaks my heart. That my parents will have to get a visa to visit their grandchildren little more than two hours away by train breaks my heart. Alone you go faster, but together we go further. Happy New Year indeed. May 2021 be filled ...

 I hurry the children along, but we should be ok. Every Tuesday we have barely a quarter of an hour to gather the three of them from their different classes, bundle them into the car and head to the music academy where Molly's music lessons are held.  I strap Louise in, close the boot after Elsie and Molly have put their bags in, and get into the driver's seat. As I check my mirrors I see a jogger coming towards us down the road. "Come on, come on" I mutter, and he continues along the road.  "Pourquoi pas drive?" Louise asks me in her typical fashion, the last word of the sentence making allowances for the fact that she knows I always speak to her in English.  "I just have to let this jogger past" I explain, glancing at my watch and breathing out. "Go, go go!" I direct at the jogger in question, as he runs around the car and continues, finally joining the pavement. "Mais il est  débile  ce mec !" Molly exclaims. "Molly! Don...

 Elsie grabs Louise, pulls her in to smother her in kisses and Louise pulls back, squealing her indignation. "Leave your sister alone Elsie" I say gently. "She's not a doll, she's a person." "Maman!" Louise turns to face me, even more indignant now. "Suis pas un pinguin !"