Our Sweet

  Eight Christmas Nights ago, I walked into my aunty's house and my grandparents were grieving past themselves. They'd had to go through the worst year of their lives and were left reeling after losing two sons separately, in 2005. It was a horrible time and Christmas Night 2005 reflected the sadness everyone had felt all year. Gradually things began to improve and Christmasses since have been happier, Christmas lights crept back up the trees and eventually returned to my Nana and Granddad's faces.

 Christmas can be a happy time or a sad time and my family has had its share of both. This year is joyful; food aplenty, heating switched on, thoughtful presents exchanged and traditions observed. I enjoy that about Christmas, each year follows the same timetable and it's a comfort to me, something to enjoy and look forward to again as Christmas Eve becomes Christmas Day and then Christmas Day becomes Boxing Day. 365 days later we'll be doing the same things and reminiscing about the Christmasses gone before... which bring me back to Christmas Day 2005.

 I understand that we can't all pick ourselves back up and not everyone is blessed with my Nana's happy and cheerful disposition but I'm so glad that I have been able to watch her and learn from her as the years have gone by. My nana never says no, her heart is always open and she will try her best at anything once. My Nana lights up rooms and she is quite honestly the spirit of Christmas all year round. This woman doesn't need December to give and she won't stop when January comes round. I can guarantee that in February she'll still be demanding that her guests sit on the comfortable seats when they visit. Of course, she doesn't do these things alone, she has a partner in life and together they give love to each other and their children, sons and daughter in law and grandchildren each and every day.

 I won't go on for too much longer. My point is that we don't have to be taken over by Christmas spirit to do something nice or let go and try something new. I've been lucky, I've had excellent examples of love and compassion for my whole life and the examples haven't gone unnoticed. We don't need to feel festive to feel kind and we don't need to be eating and spending to excess to realise that others are less fortunate. If I were to have one New Years resolution, it would be to learn from the examples I have been shown and use them as a code for living a better and more fulfilling life.

 I wish you all a lovely Christmas week and a very happy New Year.

Not Off Bypass Yet

 Living with depression is often an unbearable activity on a bad day. The person who lives with depression must devise a list of coping mechanisms and this list must be abided by because if it is not abided by then the chances of things becoming unpleasant are high.

My list includes exercise, healthy food and a job I can engross myself in. Under no circumstances am I allowed to go anywhere near a man, this is an important one. I can't be put in a position where I am vulnerable and this is something I've spent the last year or so coming to terms with.

 The day I realised that I am too damaged to be anyone's girlfriend was a sad one for me. The reason for this reluctance is down to the equilibrium I hold so dear to my heart. I was unable to see a light for a long time, normal life was too hard for me to contemplate and I had to begin all over again emotionally. I learned to enjoy the simple things first and opted to enjoy making tea, watching TV and going for the bus. Time moved on and I started to enjoy seeing friends and cooking. I was feeling brilliant until NYE 2010 and I took my eye away from the light which was getting brighter by the day. It was an epic mistake because when I looked back again the light had gone out and it months and months to get my eyes strong enough to be able to look at it. Since I became able to see the light again, keeping my eyes focussed on it has become my priority and the sheer fear about what might happen if I let anything stand between me and the light is too great a caution for me to consider anything else.

 I very much hope that this particular anxiety will ease one day and I will be able to walk slowly into the arms of someone who might be able to give me the space I need to think straight and the interest in getting to know someone with more issues than The Independent. Life can be both beautiful and sad at the same time and for those of us who live each day in 2 different frames of mind this is often true at Christmas time.

 Christmas is my favourite season of the year. I love the lights, the events, the decorations and general merriment. However, Christmas is also a time when we remember what we were doing the year before and this can be sobering. I have come a long way in the year just passed. New job, new friends and a healthier lifestyle have all had a positive impact on me but the depression lingers on, reminding me of times gone by and never letting me forget that should Mr Right come along I am likely to find it impossible to accept that he is Mr Right and probably wouldn't let him rescue me even if he wanted to.

  I have become far too self sufficient for my own good, I fell off the horse almost 2 years ago and now I won't get back on. I don't feel negative, I feel as though I have achieved a lot in a short space of time and like I should be proud of it. I hope to be able to one day have emotions as strong as my belief in my own capabilities as far as work and health go. At the time of writing I am still a little bruised and the depression and anxiety I have always felt doesn't help. In basic terms I am unwilling to leave my comfort zone. It isn't easy to write this and the thought of posting it is daunting but if it reaches someone else in some far flung corner of the world then I'd like you to know that you're not the only one who's frightened of ending up right back where you started when you took your hand away from theirs, put it in your pocket and walked away . People like us have had our hearts taken away and put into storage while we wait to feel strong enough to make them beat again on our own; we won't stay on bypass forever but we can't run before we walk either. We need to give ourselves time, be patient and keep on enjoying making tea and walking for the bus until our heart's beat independently again.

The Kids

I am from a large family. My mother is one of seven siblings and whilst my immediate family is made up of my mother, father and sister there are many more faces which make up the fabric of my background. My childhood was made up of many different cousins; I have loads on sides both maternal and paternal. I won't go into the names of everyone but they each have a special place for individual reasons. My generation was split almost into two generations for many years because there are the older cousins and then 5 years after my little sister was born a new face arrived. When he was born in February 1994 I was almost 7 so I was young but I soon realised what a special little thing had arrived, anther special little thing arrived in the April of the same year and as if we weren't blessed enough a third special little thing turned up in June 1996.
  This trio became known as The Kids and whenever we went anywhere en masse, the location of The Kids was always a fact known by everyone. This was especially important in places like London where someone could easily have wandered off with one of my special children and that wasn't really something I was willing to put up with so I became very interested in minding The Kids. We were all in love with The Kids because they provided a much needed escape from the harsh realities of life. The 3rd one is the only girl and she became the apple of my eye, she saw everything through a certain shade of pink and everything in her childhood garden was rosy.
  As I grew up I began to realise that keeping the balance in my head would be a struggle but in The Kids I found an escape route. They had no idea that I was struggling and they continued to grow and develop, oblivious of my internal demands. I was happy to join them in their worlds of fantasy and magic, they made me feel like a normal person when I was with them. I could happily help them learn and discover and as the older cousin I was also able to help with the business of keeping them safe. They were the best source of equilibrium I could find for a long time but what did they go and do? Well they grew up didn't they.
  These days The Kids are 19, 19 and 17. I think that the middle one has impressed me the most, he moved around a lot and so had the potential to stray from his familial ties but he didn't and has chosen to maintain his links with us of his own accord. He's in Afghanistan, serving with the British army now and he's great. He's loyal, he's sweet and he appreciates the people in his life. The oldest one is nothing short of fabulous; he's what you might call a Good All Rounder with a seemingly endless capacity to impress. And the girl? Well she's still finding her way in her own unique slightly alternative looking style as she comes to the end of her schooling and keeps a sideline as a talented artist at the same time.
  They're not kids anymore and their boundless innocence doesn't rescue me from a world of hurt now either. They're moving forward into full blown adulthood with each step just like their colleagues, school mates and friends. It is astonishing to think that they're coming into their own at the same time as I am but there you have it, that's the situation. I've come into full bloom a little late in life but I'm pleased I'm able to share my colourful space with these three people as they learn more about the world around them and the future before them.
  As I said, they're not kids anymore and they don't always like being called The Kids which is a term attributed to them and still used throughout the family and I understand their frustration... however when I call them The Kids, I am reminded of how liberating it can be to simply forget everything that has gone before, clear the slate and view the world through the delighted mind of a child. These days I see them for the young adults that they are but I'll never forget how they helped me through my confusing adolescence and always look on them with the admiration and nostalgia that they deserve.

Lad's Night Out

  This year I welcomed in the beginning of the festive season whilst out and about in Sevilla with a group of men I have the pleasure of being able to call my friends. I've been on plenty of lad's nights in my time so it wasn't a big novelty. I remember one Girl's Night Out back home in Liverpool that led to the male counterparts of our group feeling the need to throw their own night out. It turned into a competition to see which gender could enjoy themselves the most. I recall it being called Cheeky Cheeky Night and each team had its own uniform, such as was the eventual big deal nature of the thing. That was a spectacular night... but I am digressing, back to the evening just gone.
  I don't drink alcohol. It's a fairly new thing, 6 weeks today in fact and I've found that my nights have significantly changed since I gave up intoxicating myself. Emphasis on the toxic; for me drink is simply toxic. I go from being a level headed young woman with a sensible head on my shoulders to a clown in about 4 vodkas. I wake up in the morning with no idea what I've been doing the night before but there are often vague recollections of truly cringe worthy conversations and every now and again things can go too far and have a domino effect on the sober moments which follow. In the end I decided that enough was enough and I stopped drinking entirely. Alcohol also makes me very depressed and given that this is a feeling which I am prone to really quite naturally it is ridiculous for me to exacerbate the problem. So I entered the world of the sober woman's night out 6 weeks ago and so far I really do like it. My head is clear, my clothes fit better and I have a lot more money. I choose to spend the extra money on a fairly expensive gym membership because it has become my new way to relieve the stress brought about by living a normal yet very lovely life in a very lovely country. It was most pleasant to enjoy a night out with friends in a totally sober state. I have woken up able to giggle about the events which passed, had I been drinking I would no doubt have become Ronalda McDonalda the Clown and been banned from future events. Giving up drinking has been life changing and I can't recommend it to myself strongly enough. Once you get past the initial 'I'm sober and you're not' feeling you learn to accept that being sober is pretty much always better than being drunk. The drinking culture in Britain and Ireland is a strong one and I don't want to dismiss it as being stupid because it's not. I have had some of the happiest moments of my life sitting in lovely pubs and bars with friends whilst we put the world to rights. I've just had to start relying on myself to do the talking because when I let the alcohol do it for me the happy moment is a lot more likely to turn disastrous.
 Now for some reflection, I always like reflection on December 1st. Six years ago, I was standing in front of the Christmas Tree that the businesses in my town provide the lights for, sharing a kiss with the man who was to become my boyfriend for the next two and a half years. It was the second kiss, the first had just taken place in a basement bar, so there we have it six years ago today I was a 20 year old with a couple of mental years coming up. The roses in the garden of myself and said boyfriend didn't stay in bloom for all that long and I should have walked away sooner but nevertheless he was an important figure and I will always wish him the very best of everything. Two years ago I was about to welcome in an unexpectedly lovely Christmas but the year to come would be hard and I would struggle to get through it in one piece. One year ago I was in Greece and exceptionally isolated but no doubt delighted that I would be going home soon. I am 100% into the whole idea of home being magical and I love that there are millions of magical places because there are billions of people with millions of home towns and many consider their home to be magical. The result is an enchanted world with adventure and intrigue around every corner.
  This year, I am at a weight I like, I have a family which lights the way for me each day, friends who have stood by me through thick and thin (literally) as well as depressive episodes and times when I've been bordering on alcoholism. I am eternally grateful to have been allowed to become the person I am today and for someone who managed to spend an extraordinarily long time experiencing non stop self loathing my present state of mind is something of a turnaround. As you can see, I have experienced dark days and there was a time when I genuinely thought that I would never be happy so bad was the state of the mechanics of my mind.
  I'm not going on for no reason at all, this ramble does have a point and it is a motivational one. The point is that if you are out there and you feel like there is no way out then you must start knocking a hole through the wall yourself. You are in charge of your life, you are in charge of your mind and those two things are a fact. Don't let depression or other upsets like low self esteem and low self confidence hold you back. Try not to allow shadowed figures from the past the ability to hold onto you and stop you moving into the future with your head held high. Yes, yes I know that depression is there living alongside you and it always will be but the tools for dealing with it are right there in your own head. Find them, use them and live. You don't have to just exist, you can have a vibrant and special life once you understand that the hero you're waiting for to whisk you off into the sunset for a happy every after is you and you'll have to draw the sunset if you ever want to see it for yourself. Heart wrenching, frightening and intimidating but you'll be glad you put up a fight when you're gently surprised to see a healthy and forgiving face looking back at you in the mirror during a Lad's Night Out. Trust me, you're worth it.

Liver Birds

 

 

I have moved around a couple of different countries in the world and I have always been asked what I am. I say that I am British because I am indeed a British citizen, hailing from England, but I've never particularly considered myself as being English. In actual fact, I have felt like a fraud in the past when describing myself as English because it was only when I was living amongst Kiwis in New Zealand that I ever started to describe myself as English. It was during my time in New Zealand that I discovered I indeed had a nationality. In truth I have always identified more strongly with the city I come from. Some consider my city to be beneath them, others love its music scene, many travel north for its football teams and some can't get past its accent.
 As a foreigner living abroad, I wonder about home and check what's happening in God's Green and Pleasant Land regularly but I'm generally most interested in the Lives and Time's of Liverpool, a northern city which is situated on the West coast and faces Ireland. Liverpool as a city is probably the reason I don't relate to the South of England. We are far removed from Westminster up there in the North of England, we think differently and we use different words, (the great tea/dinner debate rages on between my southern friends and I). Liverpool was once a forgotten city, her inhabitants and their offensive accents left to suffer in slum conditions, dockside industries left dormant and grown men unable to feed their large families. Liverpool (like much of the North of England) has known pain in times both historic and recent, we won't go into Margaret Thatcher and her 'policies' because I am not political. The reason I mention these things is because it is the fight for acceptance that has led to The City of Liverpool's unwavering belief in itself. The people of Liverpool had to fight a long battle against prejudice, ('I knew I was flying over Liverpool when my watch was stolen,' and 'calm down, calm down,' are a couple of symptoms of the problem).
 However, Liverpool appears to have won the battle she found herself rather unwillingly fighting and is now considered a cultural hub, visited by thousands and is synonymous with many inhabitants who've gone public and popularised the infamous Scouse accent. Ricky Tomlinson is probably my favourite but it'd be rude not to mention Macca as well. Acceptance has come in the last few years and it's been long overdue; even the accent seems to be appropriate in polite conversation these days, it seems that we've been forgiven for dropping our h's and our creative approach towards the grammatical tenses.

 

  I have battled with depression all of my life, I have fought against weight gain and I have often thought that the answer lies somewhere sunnier, but this is not true. The answer lies within myself and the identity I have inherited from a city as strong as it has been downtrodden, intelligent as it was considered stupid, alive as it was once decaying and a city that will always be just a little bit edgy. Long live Goodison, long live Anfield, long may the iron statues stand on Crosby beach, let's hope the ferries sail to Birkenhead for many years to come, long live life beside the Mersey and bless the Liver Birds who keep their charges safe and sound.

Walking Through The Open Door

Walking Through The Open Door

Hello again. Last time we met I was busy reminiscing over the year and 10 months gone by and times experienced. You now have a rough idea of how I ended up in the TEFL game and thank you for reading the first post and coming back for a second. We all end up doing things for various reasons and we each have our own explanations, you know mine and now I will move on and give a description about what has happened since.

Just after my little heart started to break and I had full custody of my lemon I decided that whilst I couldn't do much to stick my heart back together I could find ways to sweeten up the lemon... Enter something known as a CELTA course. A CELTA course is a course and eventual qualification which is owned by Cambridge University and gives the participant the right to teach English as a Foreign Language. The CELTA course is undertaken, usually for an intensive four weeks but in my case a less intensive nine weeks and the candidate receives a shiny certificate from Cambridge at the end. The CELTA course, once discovered, became my sugar and I started to sprinkle it on the lemon. I met many intelligent, lovely people, some of whom I still hold intelligent conversations with now and to my delight, as well as the introduction of new characters to my life I also passed the course. The passing of the course meant that I could leave the call centre job I had come to dislike with an increasing intensity during every passing minute of each and every day. The day on which I eventually walked out of the call centre's big glassy front doors held joy akin to the last day of one's GCSEs. I spent a few weeks working at a summer school as a teacher and then off I flew to Greece. I stayed in a town on the mainland and I had some nice students; I was in Greece for a couple of months and returned home in December 2012. Being at home again was really very lovely and I was happy to be there but after a few months of working behind one of the bars of an enormous pub chain I checked my bank account. Upon the checking of my bank account and the sheer astonishment at the lack of funds it held, I decided that I'd better do something about it. Do something about it I did, I applied to another summer school and quite unexpectedly got the job. Off to summer school I went and what a truly excellent summer I had. The whole thing from start to finish was utterly fantabulous. Summer school ended and I decided that I'd go to Spain next, which brings me to today, writing to you from a laptop in Seville, Andalusia.

So there we have it, the last 22 months and some days put succinctly into two neat little blog entries. Of course other things happened during those months, I went online dating, I failed my driving test, I discovered exercise, I've given up alcohol entirely and I've developed new skills in abundance. I've also learned lots of things about the English Language which both baffle and wow me on a near enough daily basis. Mostly,  I've discovered that being me is both a pleasure and a privilege. The lemon in my possession is much sweeter now than it was in February 2012, it doesn't really do citrus fruits justice these days because it has more in common with the pineapples in the basket.

See you next time, stay tooned.

One Door Closes

It has been 1 year 10 months and 15 days since I said goodbye to a man I was head over heels mad about. I said goodbye because of damage limitation to my already bruised self but sadly the damage was already done and reversing it has at times been as painful as how it got there in the first place.
I don't want you to think that I have spent the previous year, 10 months and 15 days listening to Adele and feeling sorry for myself because it couldn't be further from the truth. I've a ball for a good part of it but it hasn't been an easy ride.
I think the truth is that for quite a long time I didn't want to lose the pain because I didn't want to lose my connection to him. I needed to be upset because if I wasn't then what had it all been for? Eventually as time went on and I moved from country to country, lost weight and gained a new perspective things began to ease but every now and again and usually during the most unexpected of moments I will remember something and the memory will wake up a Pandora's box that can be difficult to close. It's far easier to close it these days than it was a year ago but and that is a blessed relief. While the box is open, I will dream of him, find a photograph I had forgotten or hear a song I haven't heard in a long time and then the inevitable remembering begins. I don't enjoy this remembering because this man is long gone and you must believe me when I say that he is never coming back into my life so there can be no resolution. There is no end to the wondering, the what might have been scenarios, the soul searching or the what was it all for conversations I used to have with myself all of the time.
I have come to accept that when you have cared for someone, truly cared for someone; no matter how bad for you they were, their presence in your life is guaranteed to leave its mark on you. There's nothing you can do about it, you will remember and sometimes it will hurt but there is a special secret to affairs of the heart, a method I have learned and will try to explain as best I can over the months to come. It's simple really, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade.