Control

  

So it’s actually past my bed time but I’m wide awake thanks of polishing off half a tub of Ben & Jerry’s (karamel sutra), which is crazy for me. Usually that stuff is totally off limits until Friday – Sunday. Sugar rush on a Wednesday night… am I wild or what.

Anyway I’ve been suffering with tooth/head/face ache for 2 days so curling up on the sofa all alone with my ice cream and the last couple episodes of Girls to catch up on (I can’t believe the next season will be the last, I’m not ready to say goodbye) was a treat for being such a trooper while my stupid body sabotages itself.

So I’m using my wide-awake-too-much-sugar time to get some more complicated feelings off my chest… This is something I typed up a few days ago…

I had a cry. In the toilets in work… Not for long, but when I left my eyes and nose were all red. Hopefully I just looked as though I’d been sneezing? Nobody mentioned it.
I had a cry because… well, actually, I’m not sure why I cried.

You know when you get a text message you can like see the first couple lines of it without actually reading it? Well, while I was working a text from him came in. He was asking if I wanted to go to New York in Nov. Flights were ‘only’ £340, we could go see the first UFC event to be held in Madison Square Gardens. I ignored it, ’cause I had to pretend to be working. Another text came in:”???” And another: “It’ll be all lit up for xmas and it’ll be so romantic and we can go ice skating and then watch people punch each other”.

I definitely didn’t cry because my boyfriend invited me to New York – Ice skating and UFC sounds perfect (except that I’m not dying to go back to NYC, I went as a teen and wasn’t enamored. Shock horror am I allowed to say that? A 20-something white girl blogger who doesn’t love NYC?! I’ll be excommunicated…)

But, regardless, the answer was no. I couldn’t even consider it. How the fuck was I supposed to pull £340 out of my arse on an hours notice? Yeah – he wanted to book it RIGHT AWAY. I’m currently paying off my credit card, trying to save money to pay him for the air bnb he booked for Paris at the end of August, trying to save spending money for Paris and money to buy him a 30th bday present (he wants dinner at a restaurant that’s like £300 PER PERSON). I mistakenly bought flights to London for a weekend to visit a friend, thinking I could do it on the cheap since flights are only £25, little did I realise it would cost £100 for a half decent hotel. His answer? ‘Just stick it on your credit card’ (he’s not the best at managing his finances). If I’m already saving for all of that other stuff how am I supposed to just stick another £340 on my credit card? Knowing full well that I won’t be able to pay it off for months and months, that I’d be gaining interest on it AND worrying about it every fucking day? No. The answer was just no – can’t be done. Plain and simple.

But making sensible financial decisions is FUCKING BORING. And maybe I am too, because I am good with my money (I have so little of it I have no choice but to be!). I’ve very little on my credit card and to be honest my savings can cover it if needs be (but they’re my rainy day fund atm). The only loan I have to repay is my student loan, which, let’s face it, doesn’t really count… I’ve never had bad credit, I’ve never been in debt or owed anybody money. But I’m also constantly saying ‘I can’t, I’m skint’, which really translates as ‘I could, but there’s far more sensible things I need to spend my money on.’

Was that why I cried? Because I had to say no AGAIN to something I wanted to do? I mean, I’ve wanted to visit my pal in London for like 2 years but never had the money. Now I finally can (although I wish I’d put more planning into it and organised accommodation first…). But there’s so many other things I have to say no to – a deal for a night in a fancy hotel with a hot tub and a bottle of champers with my girlfriend cause I can’t stump up £75 for one night. A few nights away with my mum, because I’m saving for Paris instead and can only afford one holiday. A night at a hotel and spa with him, just because. Lunch at a nice restaurant, just to try it. And the countless other holidays he’s tried to get me to book on a whim. Is it always saying no that made me cry?

Or is it the pressure of trying to keep up with everybody else? With my boyfriend who is inexplicably flush ALL. THE. TIME. With my girlfriend who has the same expensive taste as me but actually has the means to fund it. With all my other girlfriends with their mortgages or fancy hotel-looking apartments (if you’re reading this, you know who you are 😉 ). The friends who pay more bills than me and still manage to go clothes shopping and plan holidays.*

These seem like valid enough reasons to get emotional in the middle of the day at text messages I haven’t actually read yet. But that’s not why I cried.

I cried because he’s going anyway. Without me.

He’s gonna go and he’s gonna have a great time without me and he won’t miss me or wish I was there and he won’t need me and he doesn’t need me and that’s perfectly normal because a person shouldn’t need their partner but for some reason I can’t apply that rule to him and I want him to need me or want me and not go live his life without me.

I mean, I’m not even part of the decision making. I have no control whatsoever over what he does or doesn’t do, who he does it with or where he goes… We’re living two separate lives and he’s cool with that. And I’m powerless to change any of it. And that’s why I cried.

I can control how much money I spend or save. I can control how much sugar I eat throughout the week. But I can’t control my feelings, or his.

…Or grinding my teeth at night. Hence the tooth/head/face ache. Ow.
*Disclaimer – Most of these friends also worked a lot harder to get a career/get their shit together than I did. I do realise that… just sayin’, cause I know how much of a little bitch I sound!

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Stiff Upper Lip

 

So it’s been quite a while since I posted. I’m making a conscious effort to be a bit more positive and chilled out, and considering my blog posts are usually inspired by anger/frustration/misery/insert-negative-emotion-here, I thought it better not to vent publicly. Truth is, I’m still very bitter & wounded from my heartbreak (I was a moody bitch before so just imagine how cynical I am now!) but I don’t want people to see me that way. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not running around grinning and exuding rainbows and shitting candyfloss… I mean even if I wanted to I’d never be able to shift this bitch-face or dry sense of humour, but I just want the world to think that I’ve picked myself up and carried on. Because I kind of have… I’m not giving in to the tears or temper tantrums. When I feel it all building up, instead of completely losing my shit I’ll send a friend some rant-y texts, apologise for said rant and get an early night. I’ll try to keep myself busy the next day until the rage subsides (yes those are delirium lyrics *In this white wave, I am sinking, in this siiiiiilence* Good tune).

You guys already know how paradoxical I am. So although I totally back the whole self love ‘movement’ (is it a movement? What defines a movement? The amount of people hashtagging it?), I struggle with it on a personal level. In the same way that I’m battling my own internalized sexism in my feminist awakening, I’m tackling the self-deprecation that’s really instilled in the British & Irish. We are definitely not taught to love ourselves. It causes problems on a national scale, including a mental health crisis (because we cannot talk about our emotions no no… stiff upper lip and all that!) but also something that I’m sure deeply affects every one of us… Not having any idea how to fucking sell ourselves in a job interview.

Interviewer: And what would you consider your strengths to be?

Me: Well, I’m kind of good at this and I once did that kind of well…

Interviewer: And your weaknesses?

Me: Oh god, where do I start? I’m always late, apathetic toward my work, lazy, hate responsibility, moody, short attention span…

Interviewer: Please stop

Me: I yawn a lot, I need to eat at least every 2 hours, constantly on my phone…

Interviwer: Please

Me: I’m sarcastic, can’t do simple maths, have jealousy issues, oh and I pull sickies at least 4 times a year.

Interviewer: We’ll be in touch

We are definitely not taught to love ourselves, look after ourselves or take time for ourselves. No, because that is self-indulgent and JESUS DOESN’T LIKE IT. Hell, if I had a quid for every time I’ve been called selfish… And being even slightly selfish, vain or egotistical is like one of the worst things a person can be. Better to be unhappy, unhealthy and unfulfilled than be accused of being self-centered. But fuck it. I am selfish. I love working on myself, what a fucking sin, right?

And this is exactly what I mean! When faced with (or apparently even just thinking about) the kind of people who think that looking after yourself is a bad thing, or somebody who isn’t selfish enough and is miserable because of it, it’s easy for me to get on my soapbox and preach the glory of self love! Yet, I have so many days and nights where I feel absolutely worthless because of what other people (one person) thinks (or doesn’t think) of me. Like half my brain is totally tuned in and yes we love ourself and fuck everyone else ’cause we’re totally killing it!!! And the other half is asleep/stoned/paralyzed and just kind of flopping about in there like ‘what now? What are we doing? I’m just gonna go lie in this dark corner OK? You got any ice cream?’. It’s probably the side that’s supposed to do maths. Fuck maths.

But, hey, I’m trying. Like I’ve said in an early blog post, I hold out hope for my thirties, on the sage advice of my lovely mum. Maybe if I try to start loving myself now I’ll have it figured out in 5-10 years! I’ll get a few comfortable years in before I start lamenting my youth and having a mid life crisis…

You can really tell I’m trying to be more positive, right?

 

No for real though, I do think it’s working. And I do think it’s really important for everybody, in terms of your relationship with yourself and with other people. If you are totally drained you can’t give other people what they need – love, empathy, a shoulder to cry on, whatever it may be. When we don’t look after ourselves we become exhausted and uncaring, and usually feel guilty about it to boot! I want it to be socially acceptable and even encouraged for people to take a step back from their life, their drama, partner, friends, family, job, all of it, to take a breath and step back into the ring with a second wind – without carrying a tonne of guilt with them!

So. I’m trying not to be so hard on myself, trying not to be so negative & doing things that make me happy! And since my relationship has very much taken a backseat in my day-to-day life, I can say with certainty that everything I do now is for me. And that’s how I want it. That’s maybe not how it has to be for everybody, but considering the way in which I lost myself in my relationship and subsequent heartbreak, it’s what’s right for me, right now. I’m eating right (trying to), I’m working out, I’m trying new things, booking trips with friends, I’m starting a new job & eventually I want my own place. Even if things work out with him, I think it’s important for me to have my own place, at least for a while. As scary as it is to be out on my own, I want to be that girl, who can be on her own. So I’m faking it til I make it… I’m suppressing all the stress I get over things I can’t control and I’m suffocating the bastard ’til it gets the fucking point.

Bad days – I am tougher than you. Lonely nights – You’re getting the cold shoulder. Self-loathing – I will punch you in the goddamn throat.

Who knows, maybe I’ll be preaching love and peace by the time I’m thirty. Namaste, bitches.

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Allowances

 Does looking past a person’s flaws, working with them, making allowances for them make us more selfless, more worthy of that person’s love? Or does it make us a mug? At what point do we cross the line from caring into foolish?

My older brother and his girlfriend have just got engaged. A few months back things were a bit rocky between them. When she met my brother she had just come out of a pretty terrible relationship, the impact of which didn’t hit her until the new-romance-honeymoon-phase was over. So, understandably, trust issues she had buried started to resurface, she pushed my brother away. Things were hot and cold for a while (but never turned nasty). Anyway… you’re probably wondering why this is relevant. Now that they’re engaged and officially moving in together, she said to me that she’s just so glad that he put up with her shit (I’m sure she actually worded it much nicer than that but my memory fails me – that was the jist of it anyway). … (is jist a real word?! You guys know what I mean, right?)

SO. My brother put up with the hot and cold; he understood she was going through a hard time, working through some issues, and it paid off. She appreciates him for doing that and they’re going to live happily ever after (which is lovely but I wish they’d stop with the baby talk… Have they asked me if I’m ready to be an auntie? NO! How selfish of them…).

But how long do we put up with that for? A few months? A year? 3 years? Is that love? Is that like, accepting somebody for who they are, warts ‘n all? Or do we only do this expecting the person to eventually change? And is it really so bad to want somebody to change? If we have entered into a relationship with somebody, then obviously we like them as a person, we recognise all of the good in them… but as we get to know them better, as we invest more of ourselves into the relationship, we will discover things that could use a little adjustment. I don’t think that’s so awful. As long as you don’t want to change the person’s personality… or something fundamental about who they are. I mean, there’s definitely things about myself that I’ve changed for the sake of a relationship and I’m a better person for it! We all need called out on our bullshit sometimes and often we need to adjust things about ourselves in order to get along better with others. But it takes two… it takes compromise.

How long do we wait for recognition?

Are we lovers or just fools?

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Pic via Instagram @theloversanddriftersclub

Hot Chocolate

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall”

– F. Scott Fitzgerald

Well after a shitty summer I am very happy to welcome September!

Autumn is my absolute favourite time of year, here’s a few reasons why:

• Crispy leaves to crunch and kick around
• Nice shiny conkers decorating the streets
• A chill in the air that feels like change
• Officially acceptable to drink hot chocolate everyday
• Wood fires
• Scarves and big jumpers
• Boots and dark lipstick
• American horror story!!!
• Sparklers, fireworks and bonfire night
• Homemade soups and stews
• Cosy nights in with red wine and blankets
• So much colour everywhere you look
• Hot chocolate
• Dark, starry nights
• Hallowe’en!!!
• Fresh air and flushed cheeks
• Toffee apples and pumpkin flavoured everything!
• This is England 90
• Hot drinks on a chilly morning
• Apples and cinnamon
• Candles everywhere
• Hot chocolate
• We’re allowed to start thinking about Xmas!
• Hot cider and mulled wine
• Hand-holding and keep-me-warm cuddles
• Golden mornings
• An extra hour in bed when the clocks go back!
• Onesies and hot water bottles
• Hot chocolate
• My birthday yay!
• Hot chocolate.

Time to stop fake tanning and worrying about a ‘bikini body’ – let operation ‘insulate’ commence!

Images via Tumblr & Nectar and Stone

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Red eyes, blue heart

So I haven’t posted in a few days, kind of trying to stop being so negative but honestly I’m not exactly feeling positive just yet so that means just kind of keeping my feelings inside. And sleeping at every given opportunity… which leads to a lot of nightmares, fyi!

I have actually had a rather busy week which was good cause every distraction is welcome! But I was mentally exhausted by Friday night and cried about four times in the cinema… twice before the movie even started. I feel like keeping busy should be helping me to move on and switch off my brain but it’s still always working overtime in the background. It’s like on the outside I look fine, and I’m functioning and I’m smiling but inside I’m being eaten alive by the seven dwarves: Doubt, Self-loathing, Loneliness, Misery, Malaise, Rage and Despair. (BTW if anyone is interested, I saw Straight Outta Compton in the cinema – amazing! Go see it!)

The thing is, it’s really hard moving forward when I don’t know what I’m advancing to anymore. I wasn’t exactly happy before I met him. Even as a child I remember being sad, lonely, lost, nervous, self conscious and feeling like I was waiting for something to happen. This feeling of waiting just became more and more overwhelming the older I got and I tried to abate it with drugs and alcohol (which of course does not work). Then all of a sudden I fell for him and that was it – it had happened. I was now as happy and confident and downright euphoric as I had been lost and lonely for all those years. Don’t get me wrong I still had bad days, and weeks… and due to a multitude of things 2015 was a bad year but in general I was happy. I was happy with myself, with my life, with my relationship, my routine. I was a happy person, I wasn’t waiting for something anymore, I was living it, it was happening.

So now I can’t take comfort in the idea that “oh you were happy before him you’ll be happy again!” because I genuinely wasn’t. But even then I had the hope that whatever it was I was waiting on (I had no idea at the time that it would be him) would come. Now… it’s come and gone. What if I have peaked? What if that was it? What if it isn’t all OK in the end? What if we just tell ourselves that so we don’t all fucking top ourselves when we have our hearts crushed beyond repair? What if I’m nothing special and I don’t deserve shit (that none of us deserve shit), it’s all just pot luck and circumstance and this is the card I’ve been dealt and there’s nothing that I, or anyone else, or the universe can do about it?

I’m keeping busy, I’m focusing on other things, I’m doing the things I’m supposed to do but I’m not happy – just distracted. My eyes are still full of tears every single day even when I’m smiling, and my thoughts are still fucking full of him.

This blog was supposed to be the place where I just pour my heart out without worrying that I was inconveniencing people because, well, if you get sick of it you can just stop reading (you lucky ducks) whereas if I’m talking to an actual human being it’s a wee bit harder for them to just slowly walk away while I’m mid-rant. But with a few regular readers and knowing that a couple friends read my shit too, I’m now even worrying about leaving my feelings here! But I have to do something with them ’cause carrying them about all day is so fucking tiring. They’re heavy – writing this, in a strange way, is kind of like putting them down for a little while.

I don’t even have a point with this post; I’m not able to round it up to any general consensus or humorous conclusion. My head is fucked, my eyes are red, my body is heavy and every time I dream I can still feel just as much heartache as when I’m conscious. There’s still no relief and it’s hard pretending that it’s getting better and there’s only so long people can sympathise with you for and I feel like a fucking dick.

Now I’m going to watch Celebrity Big Brother (my very, very guilty pleasure). At least I’m not as big a dick as that Teen Mom Farah chick, ugh she’s insufferable! Sorry to anyone who’s sick and tired of me being sick and tired…

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P.S. He liked one of my Instagram pictures. Like, what the fuck?! GET OUT OF MY LIFE YOU DEVIL

Note to self

When you inevitably wake up in the morning with that familiar weight on your chest and tears in your eyes, remember that you caught yourself smiling three times today.

Get out of your head more often – it’s too cruel in there.

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Negative thought for the night

When is trying not enough anymore?

How long can a person try their best before other people give up waiting for them to be good enough?

We’re always told ‘as long as you try your best’, but in real life, trying your best doesn’t always reward you. Sometimes it just screams at you ‘YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH’, and eventually your chances run out. Even if you’re improving, even if you’re slowly but surely becoming better, time does run out. Then what does it even matter if you’re better? You’re still not enough.

I didn’t have to try very hard at school. I could get a B in most subjects with minimal effort. One year I had to study Spanish. I didn’t like my teacher and that year I was too concerned with feeling feelings and overthinking about them to care much about anything else. You all remember what those teenage years are like… A blur of hormones and underage drinking. At the end of the year we were all sitting in class when we received our final grades. A lovely big E plonked itself on my desk – I didn’t give a shit. The bubbly, preppy, gorgeous, looked at least 3 years older than the rest of us mere children, highly intelligent, super friendly, all singing, all dancing (literally, she was both a singer and a dancer), head-girl to be leaned across to me to ask my grade. I don’t think you need me to tell you what hers was… I showed her my E, not proud yet unashamed. She gave me a kindly, sympathetic look – though how she could sympathise with a bad grade I’ll never know! Maybe she came 2nd once in a Britney impersonating competition and could remember the sting of not being good enough. “At least you tried your best!” She said.

Ehh, no I didn’t. I didn’t try in the slightest. If I had of I would’ve done just fine. In fact I even went on to learn Spanish to A-Level standard in just one year at uni. ¡Te lo dije!

Fast forward to adulthood and I have to try every fucking day. I tried so hard to be good enough for him. He didn’t believe me. I was constantly trying to reach a point that was too far away for me to even see; I just kept going in the blind faith that the finish line did in fact exist. I didn’t reach it on time. He had enough of me trying my best and he will move on to somebody who doesn’t even need to try. Does that make them better for him than I was?

Now I feel as though I have to try my absolute hardest to make myself so good that he regrets his decision one day, be it years from now. But what if I never get there? When I’m laying on my death bed is ‘oh well, at least I tried’ really going to comfort me from the fact that I know absolutely, wholly, 100% that I’m not and never would be good enough?

Sometimes I think I’d feel better if I were sitting back at my desk in Spanish class, satisfied in the idea that I could have if I’d wanted to – whether it was the truth or not. And yet still I’m trying, exhausted, still trudging toward the supposed finish line. Why?

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Falafel

UGH I’m trying SO hard to remain positive this week, but missing him is really getting on top of me. I can’t put him at the back of mind even for a second, he’s at the forefront 90% of the day – and the other 10% he’s like, in the second row. It’s driving me insane (dreamt I was a sniper last night, picking off the ‘baddies’ one by one from a seven-storey window; Most relaxing dream I’ve had in weeks).

But I’m not giving up!! It’s only Tuesday for fucks sake, I can at least go half a week without a break down, right? So here is a rambling, rather superficial list of things I have to smile about:

• Planning a trip to Budapest with my friend
• The McGregor-Aldo fight, wherever I end up watching it
• The fact that I have falafel for lunch – fuck yeah
• Checking out a new gym this week with some friends
• Potential trip to southern Spain to learn free diving, if I stop being such a scardey cat – not kidding, I react to water the same way a very fluffy, very angry cat does.
• Legends – the new movie about the Kray twins. Tom Hardy x2?! Yes please!
• Saturday night plans with friends, wine and a big, dirty take away
• My granda’s getting an Alsatian that puppy I can play with
• One of his ponies is also expecting a FOAL!!! Who can’t be happy around a new born foal stumbling around like bambi?!
• Online shopping. As my unemployed brother is always home to let the delivery man in, guess who doesn’t have to fuck around with Tesco anymore? *smug grin*
• An invitation to stay with my friend in London – although she has informed me that our usual drug and alcohol fueled binges will be on hold until she completes a 10k run in November. Ugh.
• Friends who spontaneously send me messages like this to get me through the day: 
• VERY exciting work opportunities
• New shoes – I may not be able to walk in them but I CAN look like a damn queen in them.
• My little black cat (my familiar!) who sleeps at the end of my bed every single night
• A tidy room. Used my half day yesterday to clean up and finally I can see the floor again.
• Spying an awesome bracelet on an American site and finding out that they offer free shipping to Northern Ireland! Like, what?! Some English sites don’t even offer shipping to auld norn iron!
• Unexpected text from a friend inviting me out for coffee tonight

Now that’s a good list! If I don’t cheer up I’m gonna need somebody to hook me up with some Prozac… Not kidding.

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**Sidenote** I wonder how many more hits this blog post would get if I titled it ‘Baby animals & Tom Hardy’??

Sweet emotion

  I’m far too sentimental. 

I’ve previously referred to myself as a walking paradox; I’m either totally apathetic towards something or totally passionate about it. But I don’t always want to be so passionate about things. As we’ve previously established, I (stupidly) managed to completely lose myself in my relationship, but it’s even the little things that I struggle with…

Since moving into my parents spare room I’ve had all my stuff packed in boxes and there is just SO much. And you know what? I could count on 1 hand the number of things I’ve actually needed out of those boxes over the last 3 months. So much of it is stuff that just means something to me, brings back a memory, even just a small, silly one. Do I really need all those memories? Let me give you an example…

Somewhere in a box within a box, probably within another box (I have a thing for boxes) I know that I have 2 rocks (yes, you read correctly, rocks) from… I wanna say Sicily? Which a boy brought me back from his holiday when we were about 13. We sat beside each other in class (it was alphabetical order) and I can’t even bloody remember the significance of the rocks, but there was one, and it was really funny at the time, so I’ve kept these rocks for over a decade, from a guy I haven’t even spoken to for the majority of that decade. I realise I sound like a hoarder, but as long as it’s tidied away it doesn’t count, right? 

I am still gutted about my laptop that gave up the ghost out of nowhere and took years of photos with it (bimbo here didn’t have the sense to back any of it up). So, of course, I still have the laptop – despite being told that there’s no way to access the photos, I keep it just in case of a technological miracle. I even went as far as to start a fight with the ‘tech whiz’ who gave me the bad news (and charged me £18 for it may I add) when I bumped into him after faaaar too much prosecco. Luckily he saw the funny side when I made fun of his eyelashes (they’re very long and beautiful) *hangs head in shame*. 

But my problem extends past hoarding and fighting with pretty men. Remember when I said I had the time of my life on Saturday night? Now I’m even mourning the loss of it! I’m genuinely pining for that night, that feeling of being on top of the world. Instead of just being happy that I had such a fantastic time, my heart has to feel sad that time didn’t stand still. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? 

I read all this self-help, self-love, finding peace crap (which is often super contradictory) and everyone says ‘you have to learn to let go. You have to let go of the past. Be thankful for it and move on.’ Like, yeah, ok, I’m smart enough to know that’s what I should do, I think most of us can figure that part out by ourselves. But it all fails to teach me how to let go. My head is on board, giving me two thumbs up, braced and ready to go. My heart on the other hand is the moody teenager spending a sunny day in a darkened room, impossible to get it excited about anything! 

I used to hate my apathy. I was always waiting for the next thing to come along to fall in love with, to day dream about, to give me the goosebumps and euphoria I cherish so much. Lately, I’d love to be able to just turn down the dial on my emotions. 

The grass is always greener eh? I just need a good slap!!!

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Sidenote

  

Just went for a walk to collect my car in black silk pyjamas because I am both hungover and stylish as fuck. 

Sunday nights really have a way of making you question your life choices amiright? I need a job that doesn’t have Mondays! 

Sweet dreams to everyone else who doesn’t know what they’re doing with their life and doesn’t get enough sleep xx

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