I've been taking a good hard look at myself these past few days, and I'm not sure I like what I'm seeing. I don't mean physically - I could spend the best part of a week taking that little shambles apart! - but emotionally, I'm a bit of a mess.
This is how it stands; I'm rapidly approaching 30, I have met the love of my life, I have a good job (or as good as jobs get in this climate) and a fairly supportive family. I have my health (mostly), I have a body that, whilst nowhere near perfect, dresses up ok, and I am (for some reason) popular enough with the people I meet. So, why am I always worrying about something? More than that; why am I always thinking it's all going to cave in around me?
I've always been a slightly bizarre mix of the pessimist and the optimist; at first, everything that happens is dark, the end of the world, a disaster. Then, slowly, as the mist clears, I can see the little light at the end of the tunnel and it all looks like it'll turn out fine. This has worked in the past. The thing is, the more I make the darkness darker, the more effect that has on the people around me, and the more I end up hurling them into a pit of despair. Then, when I'm seeing the light, they're still wallowing in my self-pity, because that was where I put them.
Case in point: my girlfriend - the love of my life, my absolute soulmate and, without a doubt, the best thing to have happened to me in nearly 30 years. Also possibly the most patient person to ever walk the earth! She puts up with me snapping because life isn't perfect, standing in front of a mirror in tears because I look awful (and not having any of it when she says I look beautiful), falling apart in public because (for some crazy reason even I can't fathom) I can't make a decision on what to eat, especially not if my blood sugars are low, and even less so if I feel rushed. Through all that, she remains by my side. Despite all that, she still loves me. She gets frustrated, angry, upset and confused, but she still loves me. And I love her too, although I fear I don't always show it enough.
So, what next? I've had a delve inside, come up sorely lacking and decided I need to make changes. I need to stop looking back at the things that have gone before and worrying that it'll all happen again. I need to look at myself and accept that, however unbelievable, I do deserve the love that I receive. And I need to realise that, whilst life may not be perfect, sometimes you have to take that rollercoaster if you are ever to experience the thrill of the ride. It's never easy to change your outlook on life, but I'm not ready to give up on the good things in order to make my existence easy. Hold on to your hats, world - this ride's only just beginning ...
Monday, 5 April 2010
Sunday, 28 February 2010
Friend who uses you then leaves you looking like a prat? There's a slap for that ...
Don't you hate it when you put yourself out for a so-called friend, only to find that they've changed their mind without telling you so you end up looking a fool?
About a week before Christmas, my old school friend (admittedly not known for her reliability - she bailed out of our other friend's wedding 2 days before because 'she was moving house soon and had lots to do') contacted me to say she was applying for a job where I work. Appropriate grade for her experience, 1 year contract, open to possible extension. So, I found out as much as possible, and, as asked no more than a fortnight ago, put in a good word for her with my boss.
Tonight, she pops on MSN, so - with the interviews being tomorrow - I ask how she's feeling about it. At which point, she tells me that she's already taken a job elsewhere. Because it's a higher grade. It is only guaranteed for 2 months, but she thinks that a few months of experience in this desperate NHS will get her a full-time, permanent post at that grade. The girl is living in a dream world! We live in fear of having our existing posts downgraded, and she knows from experience that jobs are few and far between, hence her desperation to get one now. If she thinks that's changing in the next 3 years, she's on a different plane of reality to the rest of us NHS employees.
Add to that the fact that she has made me look like a numpty whose judgement of even her own friends can't be relied upon, and I am one p*ssed off muff! Especially as I have to face my boss tomorrow afternoon, when she will undoubtedly pass comment. I could swing for my 'friend'! Worse still, I could swing for myself for actually doing anything for someone with no loyalty or scruples.
So, off I go to bed, slapping myself firmly in the face for every step. That'll learn me.
About a week before Christmas, my old school friend (admittedly not known for her reliability - she bailed out of our other friend's wedding 2 days before because 'she was moving house soon and had lots to do') contacted me to say she was applying for a job where I work. Appropriate grade for her experience, 1 year contract, open to possible extension. So, I found out as much as possible, and, as asked no more than a fortnight ago, put in a good word for her with my boss.
Tonight, she pops on MSN, so - with the interviews being tomorrow - I ask how she's feeling about it. At which point, she tells me that she's already taken a job elsewhere. Because it's a higher grade. It is only guaranteed for 2 months, but she thinks that a few months of experience in this desperate NHS will get her a full-time, permanent post at that grade. The girl is living in a dream world! We live in fear of having our existing posts downgraded, and she knows from experience that jobs are few and far between, hence her desperation to get one now. If she thinks that's changing in the next 3 years, she's on a different plane of reality to the rest of us NHS employees.
Add to that the fact that she has made me look like a numpty whose judgement of even her own friends can't be relied upon, and I am one p*ssed off muff! Especially as I have to face my boss tomorrow afternoon, when she will undoubtedly pass comment. I could swing for my 'friend'! Worse still, I could swing for myself for actually doing anything for someone with no loyalty or scruples.
So, off I go to bed, slapping myself firmly in the face for every step. That'll learn me.
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
Mondays, bum days and any day with a six in it ...
You know when you have 'one of those days'? You know 'those days'; the ones where you get up late and smack your knee on the bedside table. Then you hobble to the toilet and halfway through find there's no loo roll. Then you get your toe caught in the plughole as you shower, put your knickers on inside out and make coffee and cereal before discovering that the milk is off. And that's before you even leave the house!
I hate 'those days'. You just know, once a day has started like that, it's not going to improve any. You'll be stuck in traffic when your petrol light comes on, or your train/bus will be delayed or not turn up, work will be a nightmare and you'll get home only to realise that the shopping you did for your dinner is still in the fridge at the office. Super.
But do you ever find yourself thinking that it's all down to something? 'Oh, it was bound to be a bad day today - it's Monday/Friday the 13th/the day my budgie died when I was 7.' We don't really like to believe that bad days just happen, so we try to pin it on a specific cause. That way, we may dread those particular days, but at least we don't have to dread every single day of our lives because it might be 'one of those days'.
With me, it's sixes. Any day with a six somewhere in it is a potential nightmare day. In fairness, any time I've had a prang in the car, it's been in June (the sixth month), or there's been a six in the date somewhere else. And I've had a couple of uncomfortable meetings with the boss on the sixth/sixteenth/twenty-sixth of the month. But there really isn't a logical explanation for it - I once lived in a house with the number six, and it proved to be pretty unlucky, but that is about it. However, I'm now obsessed. I'll wash an extra piece of cutlery to avoid having six of anything in the washing-up rack, I avoid petrol pump/shop queue number six, even if it means waiting longer. And I try to make every bad day add up to six to justify it. The other day, I had a row with my girlfriend. We're rubbish at arguing and we soon patched it up, but it was the 18th, and - in my head - I'm thinking 18/02/10 - 18-(2+10)=6. See, stands to reason - we were bound to have problems!
But, of course, it doesn't stand to reason, does it? A little mess of a sum to make there be a six somewhere in there. And why should it matter anyway? It's all just random luck, at the end of the day - a bum day is just a bum day.
But is it a day with a six in it?
I hate 'those days'. You just know, once a day has started like that, it's not going to improve any. You'll be stuck in traffic when your petrol light comes on, or your train/bus will be delayed or not turn up, work will be a nightmare and you'll get home only to realise that the shopping you did for your dinner is still in the fridge at the office. Super.
But do you ever find yourself thinking that it's all down to something? 'Oh, it was bound to be a bad day today - it's Monday/Friday the 13th/the day my budgie died when I was 7.' We don't really like to believe that bad days just happen, so we try to pin it on a specific cause. That way, we may dread those particular days, but at least we don't have to dread every single day of our lives because it might be 'one of those days'.
With me, it's sixes. Any day with a six somewhere in it is a potential nightmare day. In fairness, any time I've had a prang in the car, it's been in June (the sixth month), or there's been a six in the date somewhere else. And I've had a couple of uncomfortable meetings with the boss on the sixth/sixteenth/twenty-sixth of the month. But there really isn't a logical explanation for it - I once lived in a house with the number six, and it proved to be pretty unlucky, but that is about it. However, I'm now obsessed. I'll wash an extra piece of cutlery to avoid having six of anything in the washing-up rack, I avoid petrol pump/shop queue number six, even if it means waiting longer. And I try to make every bad day add up to six to justify it. The other day, I had a row with my girlfriend. We're rubbish at arguing and we soon patched it up, but it was the 18th, and - in my head - I'm thinking 18/02/10 - 18-(2+10)=6. See, stands to reason - we were bound to have problems!
But, of course, it doesn't stand to reason, does it? A little mess of a sum to make there be a six somewhere in there. And why should it matter anyway? It's all just random luck, at the end of the day - a bum day is just a bum day.
But is it a day with a six in it?
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
If you look like your passport photo ...
Well, not actually my passport photo - I received the letter today informing me that it is time to change my driving licence photo. Not that it's not well timed - I'm sure that, one day, when I use it for ID, they'll refuse it! Now 29, usually blonde, short curly mop, they understandably give me a sideways glance or two when I present them with a photo of a 19-year-old with very long, very red hair that's mostly obscuring her face. Because you were allowed to do that then! Now, reading through all the gumph that comes with the form, it would appear that my head needs to cover no less than 29mm and no more than 34mm of the available 45mm of photo. I need to be against a white background, be facing straight ahead, have my eyes open (and there was me going for the restful look), have no shadow, have nothing covering my face and - of course - have no smile or otherwise pronounced expression. So, having spent 25 minutes taking photo after photo, I finally have one that's bearable. By bearable, I mean I don't look intoxicated, petrified, smug, stupid or sulky. In this one, I either look slightly upset, or like I'm about to kill something. I can't quite decide which. But, when I'm not smiling, I usually am about to cry or commit murder, so it's not too inaccurate! Let's just hope my head isn't too big or too small or too wonky for the DVLA ...
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
A Blog for All Seasons
Well, here it is. A blog. No idea whether anyone will ultimately read it, or enjoy it, or if it will shuffle slowly away into the vast abyss that is the world wide web. However, for now, it is here, waving cheerily, blissfully unaware of its fate.
As far as life goes, I'm just after a quiet one! I'm pretty laid back at heart; unfortunately, my head is in a constant battle with my heart, and my head is bigger, so it generally wins. My head is frustrated; full of stress, always ploughing through thoughts and worries and anxieties. For my heart, it's like working with someone who's always busy - you end up getting tense and worked up yourself, convinced that you've forgotten something or missed an important deadline that you were never even set.
So my laid back heart is thumping away in my chest daily. But at least that means it's still going! And so am I ... going on ... and on ... and on ...
As far as life goes, I'm just after a quiet one! I'm pretty laid back at heart; unfortunately, my head is in a constant battle with my heart, and my head is bigger, so it generally wins. My head is frustrated; full of stress, always ploughing through thoughts and worries and anxieties. For my heart, it's like working with someone who's always busy - you end up getting tense and worked up yourself, convinced that you've forgotten something or missed an important deadline that you were never even set.
So my laid back heart is thumping away in my chest daily. But at least that means it's still going! And so am I ... going on ... and on ... and on ...
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