Episode 2 Taken..The 5 Pillars In A Relationship

Chatting about the 5 Pillars in A Relationship....

and a chapter from my Memoir...

This Episode is 18 minutes long...

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:00

Hello everyone, a huge big Scottish welcome. Episode 2, Sleepless in Granada. I'm just sitting here quietly on my terrace sipping my tea and stroking my two little rescue dogs. Oh, they've just actually jumped down and now they're lying at my feet. I've just been feeling very overwhelmed today, grateful and so lucky to be living in this fantastic part of the world. Today I'll be chatting about the five pillars in a relationship by Peter Sam Markel And at the end, I will read a short chapter from my memoir. The five pillars in a relationship are friendship, loyalty, love, honesty, respect. And guess what the weakest pillar out of these five is? Yep, you've got it. It's love. Love goes up and love goes down, depending on our mood, situation, etc., etc. This is very normal. Attraction is largely based on the chemical reactions in our brain and the intensity of those reactions will vary from day to day. One day you're in love, the next you're not. In addition, as we get to know our human more and more, our feelings can shift and fluctuate based on our perceptions of our person. Love is an emotion, a very complex emotion. If one of the other very strong pillars in a relationship is missing, The relationship is sadly doomed to fail. We should all be looking for a man, a woman, partner, who wants a friendship and not just a relationship. A best friend, a partner, a lover and a confidant. All wrapped up in the one person. Humour. Kindness, respect and empathy should be on our non-negotiables list. Love and loyalty. Two feelings that are so closely related, yet people often get confused about which one is which. What is loyalty? Loyalty is a commitment to yourself to be truthful, to be there for your someone, to stand by them and respect their way of seeing things, being dedicated to the relationship, making conscious choices and decisions to nurture it especially in challenging times just being there for them unwavering support through thick and thin offering encouragement understanding being there for them emotionally no matter what loyalty is being faithful in words and in actions meaning emotional and physical fidelity loyalty is prioritizing their well-being and happiness Loyalty is built on a foundation of trust where both partners feel safe, secure, heard and very loved. Loyalty is respecting and maintaining healthy boundaries with each other. Communication is key. Ultimately, it's all about creating a safe and supportive space where you both feel cherished, respected and very safe. Love. Now love is a complex emotion, as I've just said. It takes over our very being and blinds us from reality, as this feeling has to do with the chemicals produced in our body, which in turn triggers the love. Love is also sometimes confused with lust, but they're not the same feeling or emotion. I love my dogs very much, but I don't lust them. Non-sexual intimacy. Feelings of closeness, connection and complete vulnerability. Oh, I love this. The exciting part. Sorry, I digress. Passion. is the physical attraction, the excitement, that spark that we all crave, yet it continues to elude so many of us, the romantic feelings that drive our relationship. Love goes through different stages in life, and what in the beginning started as attraction, lust and love, later develops into contentment. companionship and commitment, understanding and loyalty, valuing each other's opinions, boundaries and feelings. We all go through different stages of love in our lives. The love we feel for our children when they're born, toddlers, infants and into adolescence. As they evolve and change, our response to them and our communication needs vary. When they become adults and we cut the Love changes. It doesn't mean we love them less. On the contrary, we love them and we have deep respect for them and an enormous feeling of pride. It means that our love matures and changes. It also happens with our parents, our siblings, our partners, our friends and relatives. We love them, each and every one of them, in a different way, with different amounts of loyalty, respect and love. Let me know your thoughts so that This is my final question. Do you think that as long as loyalty remains hand in hand with respect, we can interact and be civil even if the love is gone? A short piece from my memoir. This piece is called Taken, 1967. I was six years old, sound asleep, snuggled up tight in my cosy bed. Suddenly I jolted awake, hearing loud adult voices from the hall outside the bedroom I shared with with my younger siblings. A sliver of light seeped under the door and I could feel the cold wafting through. In my child brain, I knew something was wrong, very wrong. Mum's voice was scary. She was pleading with someone in a hushed tone, shh, shush, keep your voices down, you'll wake the kids up. She was upset and crying quietly. The voices continued, growing louder, louder, loud. Clinging tightly to my soft pink teddy, I continued to listen. Oh no! I felt warmth spread through my flannelette nightie. I had wet the bed. My heart sank. Oh no, no, I'm a big girl. Only babies pee the bed. This was the first time this had happened to me and a wave of shame washed over me. I realised I was lying in a cold, wet spot as the warmth faded. My lip was trembling. I wanted my mum. Burying my head in Ted's soft fur, I continued to listen. The bedroom door suddenly swung open. I sat bolt upright. Standing there, his face in shadow was a man. He wasn't my dad. A big man wearing a dark leather swishy coat. He swooped down and lifted me from my bed and swaddled me in a blanket. I tried in vain to keep my legs closed as confusion, fear and embarrassment coursed through my tiny wee body. He smelled of cigarettes and his beard was scratchy. I wanted my mum, I smelled of pee. As we left the safety of our room, glancing over at my little brother, his big chocolate brown eyes wide and terror as he too was lifted from his bed and cradled in the arms of another stranger. Neither of us made a sound. We were shocked and bewildered. The men carried us down the stairs into the cold damp night. In all the chaos I let go of my beloved pink teddy, a gift from my grandmother when I was born. Desperately I reached out and cried out, extending my chubby little hands towards her. Ted! Ted! I was wriggling and stretching out repeatedly but the A man kicked her away. I watched horrified as she slid into the darkness, removing my comfort in an instant. That moment scorched into my memory. A part of my childhood had been forcibly taken from me by these strangers. My childhood innocence was gone, like an irrevocable part of me taken without consent. My security, comfort and precious bear were kicked and discarded without thought. I never saw Ted again. My brother clung tightly. onto his precious blue Ted. Silent, frightened tears dripped down his wee, worried, frowning face. I want my mummy. Where's my dad? What's happening? I lost sight of my mum and wondered where my other siblings might be. The world outside felt cold and very unwelcoming, so different to the warmth of the only home I had ever known. As strange men whisked us away into the night, my mind whirled in confusion. We all just simply vanished as if we had never been. I was just six years old on that critical night in 1967. While much of it feels like a dream and certain moments in my memory are like vivid brushstrokes on a rainbow canvas. Years later mum spoke of that night. None of my other siblings seemed to remember when six plainclothes policemen had come in the small hours to take us to a safe house. All I felt then was confusion and longing for my old house. Our grandparents lived in the apartment below us and were fast asleep when my family and I were taken away in the wee hours. The day that changed our world forever. They were jolted Thank you very much. My grandparents listened in horror to the ruckus as the mob ransacked her home, plates smashing, and the hard thugs' furniture was being upturned. Back then, they didn't have a phone to call for help. The gangsters henchmen sent a staunch warning, but the police were already one step ahead. Two key witnesses who previously gave evidence against this gangster had their homes firebombed, leading them to retract their testimonies. It was a chilling lesson about the dangers we faced and the lengths those in power would go to protect us. They were taking no chances with us this time. The fear and loss I felt that night were the beginning of a long journey I didn't fully understand. It is excruciatingly painful to remember just how vulnerable we all were and how the impact of those moments rippled through our lives shaping who we became. The dynamics of our family were never the same again. I have no recollection of the car journey to our new so-called home and perhaps that's a blessing. It feels easier not to remember how uncertain and restless we must have been during that ride. It's a blank space in my memory. Suddenly the car stopped and the two strangers got out. My brother and I clung to each other. We were terrified. Just then I spotted my mum standing there. My little heart sank. Her usually happy smiling face was ashen, sorrowful, worry was etched all over. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying but they lit up when she spotted us in the car. She was trying to console my two irritable younger siblings. Excitedly I hit the car window with my pudgy little fists. One of the men opened the back door and pulled us out into my mum's loving arms. She covered her faces with kisses and hugged me so tightly that I thought my little heart would burst. My brother's quiet whimpers broke the uneasy silence. Watching with complete helplessness as the sound set off the other two children, their tiny faces contorted in distress. Stinging tears dripped down my unhappy face and I fought to hold them back, biting down hard on my thumb and reminding myself that I had to be strong. After all, I was a big girl now. Letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding, being close to my mum. Felt like being wrapped in a marshmallow cocoon of love. Her smell was so soothing. A tiny spark of happiness just knowing mum was there. She told us all that we had to be big and brave and that this is where we would now be living. She said this will be a great adventure. I wasn't convinced. Everything will be fine now she said. Suddenly a draft cut through the air giving me goosebumps. Gripping mum's coat edge tightly we slowly and cautiously And each sound... A whisper, a shift of weight seemed to bounce off the walls, creating a hollow echo in the vast, unloved, sterile space. Standing in the middle of the room, chilled to the bone, a solitary tear rolled down my cheek. Stunned, my mouth hung open in disbelief. How can this place be our new home? The pungent smell of paint and sawdust on the floor invaded my nostrils and made them feel itchy. There were no curtains to soften the stark windows No carpets to cushion our chilled bare feet. The walls were stark white, void of any colour. There were no pictures on the walls, no lamps and no messy toys thrown on the floor. And where was mum's sewing machine? Where were my books? I was taken aback by the harshness of it all. A skeleton of a house. I wanted to run, but I knew I couldn't. I had to be brave. Mum needed me to help her with the younger children. Biting my lip sharply and trying to stem the hot tears that once again threatened to escape. Staring at the lone piece of furniture on the vast living room was a shiny black leather couch. Its skinny wooden legs didn't look strong enough to support its weight. And when I plopped myself down, it let out a squeaky farty protest. A tiny giggle escaped from my throat. Mum scanned the big empty room with a frown across her brow. She was angry, hands on her hips. She turned to the unfamiliar faces of the police officers. men she'd only just met, and she demanded that they retrieve her comfy couch and matching chair from her real home. Mum's voice was thunderous and stern. I can't live like this. I want my stuff. This place is still under construction. Mum was visibly upset. She hated this place and it was written all over her frowny face. Wringing her hands, she touched the crucifix that was a permanent fixture around her neck, a surefire sign that Mum was worried. I knew this was Mum's security blanket. I bit my lip again. My comfort was gone. Mum's presence was an invisible shield that protected us from the unease of this strange, unfamiliar place. The house had four bedrooms. each an empty cold shell. My sister and I would share one of the larger rooms and my two brothers would each have a smaller room. I noticed there weren't any cots for the smaller children. I would need to tell mum. The prospect should have been exciting, creating new memories, but I felt terror and apprehension. It felt too stark to provide the desperately needed warmth and security I craved. Sensing the underlying tension among us the fear of the unknown. My little heart felt crushed when I realised that something essential was missing. Where was my dad? There was an uneasy silence where his presence should have been and I felt tension in the air as if we were all waiting for something or someone, someone that might never come. A knot tightened in my stomach, glancing around, feeling a deep sense of loss that I couldn't quite put into words. Mum, where's dad? Thank you for listening. Please message me on sleeplessingrenada at yahoo.com. I would absolutely love your feedback and thank you for listening to episode two. Episode three will follow shortly.