Worry Woman

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I worry I don’t have this hair

My main act of #radicalselflove this week is to stop worrying so much.

I don’t know when I started being such a fretter but it seems overnight I caught the worry worts and now I lie awake at night remembering things I had aimed to do that day, but didn’t get around to or emails I wanted to send.

Go to sleep woman!

I worry about where I am in life at the age of 37, that I’m not earning very much. I worry that I’m not creatively fulfilled. I worry that everyone hates me and that I’ll be sacked tomorrow.

I won’t be able to get another job either, natch and my husband will leave me. I worry because I can’t seem to muster the energy to be healthier. I worry that I’m old before my time.

It goes on and on. It’s not good, is it?

So, I’m taking time out from tying myself up in knots. I know how lucky I am, to have a home, a loving relationship and the most awesome family.

I have a job and I know I’m good at it, even if I’m not doing exactly what I want to be within it. If I do decide to move on, then this is the only area that really needs to change, it can’t be that difficult. I’m a moderately intelligent human. I have a nice smile.

And I live in a world where Patricia Arquette has an Oscar and topped off her win with a kick ass feminist speech that made Meryl Streep fist pump (it’s more of an impassioned finger point). It’s a good time to be alive.

I think they call this period the Blues, usually it stays in January but with climate control and the polar ice caps, it drags on even longer these days.

Relax, I might sound incredibly negative in this post but there are lots of exciting blog things coming up and I love lots of things about my life. I know this is just a week of illness and PMS talking. I feel better sharing it with all of you already, you lucky, lucky people!

How’s your Monday been?

Image via Google.
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My Week in Pictures – February 02 to 06

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This week was sent to test me I believe but I can only assume, since I am here at the tail end of Friday with a smile on my face, that I have passed that particular exam. If not with flying colours, then at least in one piece.

I’m still in hibernation mode, honestly so have made minimal plans to see anybody after work and at weekends and I really don’t mind. It’s cold and a good time to get other shit done. I’ve also been feeling very overwhelmed (at work only) and a bit sick so it’s nice to be feeling more myself today!

Pictures, left to right, top to bottom:

  1. Some amazing new graffiti along Upper Lewes Road near work (and home). My colleague (more of below) and I took a short walk to Graffitiville at lunchtime and got these lovely shots
  2. This week has mostly been sponsored by sugar
  3. More graff
  4. Hair and arse courtesy of Mother Nature, pose all mine (was posing for a look at my new bag post, coming soon. Maybe)
  5. My beautiful and talented friend, Tatty of tattyfrankland.com, being all sexy and stuff in the graveyard. NBD
  6. This is Tom. Tom’s all manly and things, carries a penknife and eats donuts like Bear Grylls eats beetles (or something)
  7. Rabbit Rabbit (more graff)
  8. I’m only a few chapters in but I’ve wanted to read this creepy book forever. Finally I sourced a cheap copy and so far so good. It’s about a child serial killer. Review to follow #onewomanbookclub
  9. Stranger danger (more graff)

So, that’s my week. Pretty standard stuff but good. Thank God for the two Ts I work with. They make even the shittest days much easier.

IMG_20150205_131018I have to share this also, that I returned home from after work drinks on Wednesday in an absolute state with a migraine and sickness (leftover from the bug), having had an absolute stinker of a day in the office, to a card from my lovely mother. I’m sure she won’t mind me sharing it (left).

Proof that mums (the good ones) have a sixth sense about these things, know when you’re having a crappy time even though you haven’t told them and will always have your back. I love you Mum, and I’m confident that you’ll read this, being my most loyal of all readers.

So, how have your weeks been, loves? Happy weekend!

Blues, Blacks & Purples

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Even pink poodles get the Blues

I found myself sobbing into our open fridge last night, whilst searching for cheese. Full of a sadness that is very hard to define.

It’s nothing new though, this phenomena. I mean, don’t we get all get introspective at this time of year? And The January Blues are a scientifically proven thing, aren’t they? An actual bonafide condition.

The reason for my tears seemed clear at first: it’s been a bitch of a week. I spend way too much time caring about my job. Conjuring up problems that just aren’t there; pretending the issues that actually are there, aren’t. Much, I’m sure, like every other employed person on this planet.

But I’m a lowly Marketing Assistant, not the CEO of a vast company, Editor-in-Chief of Vogue or a brain doctor. I organise things, write copy and give presentations; what is there really to stress about?

I think I can safely say that sometimes the littlest things trigger a very bad attack of The Doubts. Feeling inadequate because things aren’t going perfectly is one thing but given the right environment it can mutate.

Suddenly you find yourself cocooned in your robe on the sofa, losing your shit to Don’t Tell The Bride, lamenting how terrible your life is because you’re no longer 27 and what the fucking fuck are you even supposed to be doing with your life anyway?

My dreadful imagination has me homeless on the streets, never to be employed again. It has me penniless and alone because I never get over the horror of losing the job I don’t even know has the future I hoped for anyway. I curse myself for not being better, for not having a talent.

For being a bad person. A bad partner. A terrible sister, daughter and friend. I turn myself inside out, pulling at the stuffing until there’s nothing left. I don’t deserve anything, will never amount to anything.

I might as well leave this crazy city with nothing but the clothes on my back, like Julia in Sleeping With The Enemy on a Greyhound bus. See if I can’t start a new life somewhere quaint. Rebrand myself with a new name, maybe get a little job in a book shop.

Better this course of action than just going to bed, getting a good night’s sleep and getting the fuck over myself.

I blame January for all of this. For being miserable and underwhelming and poor. January angers me because it always comes in to the sound of trumpets and fireworks.

It’s not all that. It’s just another month but 86 days long.

I’m over it. The Blues won’t win this one. But if I want to mope and cry and eat cheese for the remainder of the month, then… so be it.

How you doin’? #january

Ready, Set, Done

Our ten-minute free-write is back! Have no mercy on your keyboard as you give us your most unfiltered self. Via The Daily Post

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An accurate photographical depiction of where my head’s at

I’ve recently been doing so much proofing and other stuff for work, and stressing while I do it, that my own creative endeavors, even reading my choice of literature at the end of an evening, has gone out of the window.

This is turn, I really believe, makes me a very dull human being indeed. I need to be stimulated, creating, thinking to make this thing called life work. Without it, I am nothing but a drone.

What is the point without passion? This week has been an angry week without creative joy and I know it is my responsibility, and well within my own power, to change this.

So Pretty Woman is on Netflix (hey, the soundtrack is exquisite) and I’m going to free flow this bad boy and clear my head for a fresh and exciting new week. You in?

Where to start? First off, it’s so damned cold out. Have you ever noticed that the conversation is already over the minute the person you’re speaking to starts talking about the weather? It’s such a British thing to talk about how hot/chilly/wet it is out there.

My best friend and I used to consider small talk of this nature the nail in the coffin of conversation. Working as Baristas, it’s all we’d talk about.

“How are you?”
“Cold.”
“… What can I get you?”

The Art of Conversation was not designed to be mastered over the condiment counter, of course so I probably shouldn’t be so hard on the people who have just walked in, probably to avoid talking to anybody. It’s why I go for coffee, after all – for the peace and quiet.

So it’s cold and I’m actually happy about that. Coats and boots and scarves and hot chocolate and blankets; they make me happy. PJs to walk up the road to my BFF’s house make me happy. New hats make me smile.

I like cosy. I am staunchly pro-hibernation.

I don’t like my job at the moment, despite the amazing people I work with (mostly). I like the actual work for the most part and have been given the opportunity to do a little bit of writing, which of course is what I would like to be doing professionally. But I despair of the office politics.

I feel sometimes as though I am losing myself. I hate having to bite my tongue, be patient with stupid people. I hate having to shrug and accept things that anyone can see aren’t working. Sadly, as an assistant there’s not much I can do about that right now.

Perhaps the answer is to look elsewhere for professional fulfillment but I’ve put in the time, done the work, worked my way up; why should I? I feel like I should see it through and stay committed. Like a pitbull with a bone between her teeth.

I guess all I can do is wait and see, quietly work out what’s best for me.

Elsewhere, life is good. Life is hard but good and joyful. Life would be boring if it were perfect, I guess that’s one way to look at it.