Twisted Nerve

Anyone else spend a fair portion of their life worrying that they’re not a good person? I think I question this every day at least once but when drama occurs the feeling hits me tenfold and I go all floppy with inertia. Like, why am I bothering, I’m the worst, I might as well give up, go to the end of the garden and eat worms. I hate this element of myself, the part that immediately concedes that everything is my fault and rightly so I should be punished for it.

I’m really trying to take these moments and hold them at arm’s length. To examine them before I commit to hating myself because of them. Sometimes this is possible and other times, not so much. I’m trying to understand that I’m not a perfect human being and that I will make mistakes and sometimes I will be insensitive and a dick – and as long as I acknowledge these times and try to fix them (and ultimately learn from them), then I can’t be all bad. It’s always a thrilling ride inside this head of mine, thanks anxiety.

Anyway, as it’s slipping nicely into Autumn, I’m in a pensive frame of mind and trying not to beat myself up over every little thing. I’m really not a negative person on the whole and my philosophy is to try to keep things upbeat where I can so anxiety feels like the voice in my head trying to bring that down. I’ve mentioned before that it feels like a constant battle of the wills to be myself and live with these feelings. Generally I’m winning though which is good.

The chill in the air is really nice though and we’ve had a couple of those perfect cold sunny days. I’m loving wearing jeans and boots – and I love my life very much. Apart from the little wobbles about what I’m doing with my life, I know how lucky I am. I have good friends, a home, I get to live and love a really good guy – and my family are the best. I want for nothing and deep down I know I’m not the failure human being that the voice sometimes makes me believe.

How are you?

Weekend 2: Photography 101

So this weekend I’m supposed to play with light at different times of the day; dawn, the middle of the day, afternoon and dusk. Well, ain’t nobody got time for that, I have things to do and people to see today. And hoovering to do.

However, I have something even better to share, I think.

Last night something made me think of my old Flickr account, so I went looking for it and found all my old pictures! While rummaging through my digital memories, I found an album entitled Scanners (2008). Basically, all I had to create these images was my mother’s scanner, a computer and – voila! – this series of incredibly pretentious shots was birthed.

Aren’t they special?


Now, when I look at these, all I see is a silly girl trapped in a life she didn’t want but the images are kind of great. Yes that’s a banana (and my boobs).

As for the rest of the pictures on Flickr, I’m tempted to delete them all forever. I’m tempted to pretend I was never that stupid hopeful girl; and maintain that I was always this together and flawless. (Insert maniacal laughter here).

Life isn’t like that though, nor should it be. We’ve got to hold on to the memories, no matter how sick they make us feel now. It’s all a matter of comparison, after all.

Have a great weekend, all!

Hallow-Hell-Yes!

Or How I Learned to Love My Curves and Respect the Bum: Halloween Edition*

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There was a time when I was so self-conscious about my body that I would tie my jacket around my middle to ‘hide’ all my imperfections.

If I could help it, I wouldn’t get up and walk past anyone I didn’t know. I would never approach the bar in a pub and would fret like nobody’s business if I had to get off the bus in front of a gang of youths in case they shouted abuse at me, like they had nothing better to do.

It wasn’t a good scene, man and I was miserable, often sweating away in a heavy leather jacket as the Summer came and went. Then somewhere, somehow it got better and I learnt about self-esteem.

It wobbles some days, of course, but in general I’m cool with what I have. I have all but put those silly notions out of my head. Perhaps people do whisper mean things about me, but I don’t hear them anymore. The freedom gained from learning to love yourself (for the most part) is incredible, but 1000 time better than that.

But this is the Halloween edition of my relationship with myself and so on to that.

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Last year’s Halloween ensemble

Last year I got fed up with the party-pooperness of my fellow workmates and went to work dressed as a cat.

It was a half-arsed attempt to prove some sort of point, and I didn’t exactly thrown my back into it. A smudge of black eyeliner, whiskers and a darling little black nose topped off my glittery cat’s eye mask to perfection, and that was that.

It’s a weird feeling to be over dressed in public. It feels almost completely the opposite, as if you have omitted to put on underwear (or anything else) and have skipped into the workplace as naked as the day you were born.

Anyway, this year I have found myself organising a Halloween event to raise money for Macmillan, which is both great for the charity but also, the best ever way to ensure that I’m not alone in dressing up this year! I’m not going to reveal my outfit ideas just yet, but I will say, I have more than one.

Since I am also going to a party on the Saturday, what choice had I but to have two amazing costumes, hmmmm? Which leads me to the point I was trying to make with this entire post.

#bighint (Can you guess who'll I'll be?)
#hint (Can you guess?)

My work costume is pretty tame in terms of flesh to costume ratio because who needs to be confronted by my heaving bosoms when they’re trying to go about their daily business? Nobody that’s who. So it’s cool and comic booky – but very much buttoned up.

Saturday night is another matter. Again, I’m referencing one of my all-time favourite characters (also comic book), but this time it’s going to a little bit more risqué.

Full on busty, bare shouldered with a cinched waist. If I’m feeling it on the night, there will be fishnets. Basically, it will be a million light years away from the sad girl in the corner, too paranoid to actually get up and have a good time.

I simply don’t give a fuck about worrying anymore, I want to be part of the real action this year.

It’ll be just wonderful**

* Sorry 😦

** #hinthint

The Secret

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Door’s on the latch, Tom…

Before the madness of Blogging 201 kicks off on Monday (yes, I’ve decided to keep going), I thought I’d record a few thoughts as they lie right now.

More a record for my own sake than anything else, I just think sometimes putting things out there makes me accountable for them, and for any changes I wish to make. We’ll see about that of course, I thought talking about running would make me do it all the time and I’m still working up to that.

Anyway, the first thing I want to say is that I’m not that big on self-help books and all that jazz.

I believe in self help, am all for loving yourself and doing whatever it takes to make yourself happy. I’m respectful of other people turning to books, videos and anything to get what they need, but you won’t find me in the Self Help aisle rummaging for answers. Maybe I’m missing out.

But once upon a time I did read The Secret and it changed something. I’ve talked about it before elsewhere but the gist is that I was at the end of a bad scene, feeling hopeless and I picked up the book my best friend had left lying about after a visit.

It just made sense. Put out positive vibes, ask the Universe for the things you want and get them. Sure, it’s unlikely Tom Hardy will be knocking on my door before the weekend is out just because I want him to, but it’s an attitude I can get behind. Think about what you want and envisage yourself getting and keeping it. PMA all day, every day.

After I’d read it, I wrote a list that looked a little something like this:

  • Get out of this relationship
  • Get a new job

Underneath the two main wishes I detailed what I wanted in a new man (call me shallow):

  • Tall
  • Dark
  • Green eyes
  • Reads Comics

I didn’t dare write any more than that but I hid that list and thought of it often. Perhaps the Perfect Boy list was subconscious since I already knew my husband then, though we hadn’t spoken in years and I couldn’t have imagined we’d end up together. (You guessed it, Mr B ticks all those boxes).

Maybe just admitting you want more is enough to ensure you make moves to get it. Or maybe it’s magic. Whatever it is, it works. It worked then and it can work now.

Houseboat in Amsterdam, you will be mine
Houseboat in Amsterdam, you will be mine

I did get out of that relationship, less than a month later and then I scored my dream job at a dating agency. So I believe in The Secret and I’ll tell anyone. Sorry, not sorry.

Today I think it’s time to go back to basics. I’m getting to the point of being done at work for many reasons and it’s making me feel sick. Things need to change and whether that’s me moving on or something more drastic, I have to think about it. I’m not comfortable with the way things are and I need to fix it.

I know I’m worth more and right now I’m working in an environment that makes me feel insecure, paranoid and frankly undervalued in every way.

Time for a Positive Thinking Spell, I think.

I might update on this topic every so often, you know just to check in. Hopefully the next instalment will be a more positive one, rather than “I screamed, threw something and was escorted from the building by the caretaker”.

Do you have a go to method for making changes/getting happy? If so, what is it? Are you willing to share your secrets with me?