Frozen

  I, like many people in the modern world have become quite taken with the animated motion picture Frozen. I like watching Frozen, I like the prettiness of it and I like the simpleness of it. When I watch Frozen I tend to feel a shared understanding with the main character Elsa.

  Elsa grows up in a traditional family with a mother, father and sister. I did this too, nothing all that unusual about it. I grew up a little bit troubled, there was always something there waiting to really pick its moment and strike whereas my sister had an altogether sunnier disposition. I would shut myself away with books and become determined to be as isolated as possible when my sister wanted to go out and play outside. She was mischievous and fun, I was serious and pensive. We're still like that to a certain extent, she is still mischievous and fun and I am still serious and pensive. Those are our roles and that's just how it is.

  My sister decided to get married and so that's exactly what she's doing. I may meet a man and decide I like him and my natural reaction is to get as far away as I can. Lucy gets married, Helen runs off. I've driven my parents mad with this sort of behaviour, stop running Helen they'll say to me, just stand still and enjoy the flowers. I do a lot of flowers watching, smelling and enjoying. Eventually I start to feel like something is missing and something may come to fill up the gap but the something never stays for very long and I find myself a bit like Elsa stuck up there in her icy tower willing myself not to feel anything and just praying for it all to be over and for the next happy flowers moment to come along. I'm always alone and calm during the flowers moments, it's only ever me and I seem to manage really well like that. I'll think of the people I've known and wish them well, I'll wonder what might happen if I ever see them again and smile. Maybe we'll get a coffee and then he'll wander off to his happy and stable wife and I'll wander off to my happy and stable cat. As long as I'm a size 10 I don’t really mind, being a size 10 makes all of the difference.

  My sister has found herself wandering up icy mountains to try and fetch me down in the past. "Come on Helen, you can come down. I'm here now." She's rescued me before has my sister. She's fought off the bad guys, shouted down the ex boyfriends in train stations and appeared like Florence Nightingale in the hospital during my most recent 'moment.' I wake up grateful for my sister. I also wake up looking at her because I have a nice little picture collage thing by my bed so she's always there. I know she wants me to be happy and stable like she is. I know she wants me to have a healthy frame of mind like she has and I know that she feels like the other half of her has arrived back when I come home again which is how I feel too.

  Lucy being my other half was just fine until I started to grow up a bit this last year. I left, Lucy got engaged (to a lovely young man, you'd think he was Prince Charming if you caught him in a certain light) and everything is changing for us. I'm still being pensive, over thinking about palm trees and falling down holes and emerging with cuts and bruises all over my face. My sister is organising a very fun wedding, it's going to be great is this wedding but she can't be my other half anymore because she's in the middle of building another entity and so Pensive Helen is wondering what she should do next. My mind is mostly made up, I'd like to do a masters next year and then go after a creative writing dream but I worry that I will get depressed again and be unable to concentrate on it… and I'm back up there in my icy tower pacing backwards and forwards and worrying that I'll never live a normal life or indeed be a normal wife. If I can't do a master's without getting all anxious and stressed about it in advance, how will I be able to do anything at all? Locking yourself up inside is so much easier than going outdoors and really feeling the world around you. Why worry about what you haven't got when you make it an impossibility for yourself anyway?

I do this a lot, this over anxious, over worrying, over stressed thing and it's made me strip everything back to be as basic as possible. Cook, work, watch TV, cook, work, watch TV and do some sewing in the quiet moments. I very rarely drink alcohol, I barely date and I don't involve myself past the capacity I have set for myself. Wouldn't it be great if I did though? Wouldn't it be great if just once I wasn't left confused, baffled and mystified by the actions of another and be allowed to just slowly get used to someone, enjoy them and gradually live a more 3 dimensional life? Or maybe not, maybe it's just not the way for me and I'm safer in my icy tower accompanied by cosy blankets, ever faithful teddy bear and a fantastic collection of attractive mugs.

Oh To Be Transient - 9-5 Is Not For Me

  The world has modernised over recent years and the surge in electronic communication has meant that travel is becoming more and more common. Those wanting to write to those in Australia no longer have to wait a week for a letter to arrive because Skype means that loved ones can be video called in the space of a few seconds. You can literally have a virtual tour around someone's house in another country and give feedback right there and then. Transiency is also something which is becoming more and more a part of modern life as communication with those at home is now so much easier to maintain. Transiency is something I have come to accept as a part of my life as I know that most of the people in it are likely to vary from year to year as those who use TEFL as their jobs experience all of the different corners and cultures of the world.

  I developed a close knit group of friends last year and was reunited with them in September of this one as we all grouped together again after the summer. I remember feeling so relieved that they were all back where I could see them again, it was like being back amongst a makeshift and slightly dysfunctional family. These people have made my time here in Seville a memorable one and so it was with great delight that we were able to welcome another member back to the fold when he decided Columbia wasn't for him and decided to return to us a few weeks later; we had our final piece of the puzzle back and it was a really great feeling. We have another member of our family who comes and goes to and from Seville as her circumstances allow, it's always nice when she returns again but we accept that she can't spend all of her time here. In much the same way we also accept that we probably won't stay together forever because we will each be called off somewhere else one day in the future. Someone will choose to go home, someone will go to Japan, someone will stay in Seville, someone will go off to get married, someone will go to university, someone will start a family and someone else will do something else and eventually one day the group will disperse and there will be lots of fond memories of a couple of years spent together in an incredibly Mediterranean setting. We won't regret a thing and one day we will have a reunion in a dodgy social club somewhere up there in the north of England. It will rain, we will drink pints and we will fondly remember the times we spent together before our real lives start up again the next day. The reunion will be excellent and the hangover will be momentous.

  Acceptance of transiency is something else that I have become more and more used to as I have allowed my brain to reconnect itself back to the rest of my body over the last 11 months since the most recent collapse. I accept, understand and relish the fact that all of the people I meet are coming and going as they move about on their own game board. Some of them stay longer than others, some return and some wander off into the sunset never to be seen again, it's just the name of the game and you have to take the rough with the smooth, highs with lows and smiles with tears.

 I myself am quite transient in nature. I have always enjoyed the journey more than the destination itself. I remember as a child feeling quite disappointed when the driving adult would happily announce that the long journey was over and we could now get out of the car and partake in some funhaving. I was always a little sad because I very much enjoyed listening to music and daydreaming as I watched all of the things I saw speed past the window. I haven't changed in that sense, I still love the journey, I still feel excited by a long car or bus ride. Trains don't do it for me in the same way, I'm not sure why. I enjoy my journey to work, listening to music or reading. I like having a little think as I get ready to start my working day. What will I do today? How can I spice up the present perfect? Is there any conceivable way for me to put another clip from Modern Family on again without it becoming really obvious that I just love watching it? The journey is always the best part for me. It is the bit with all of the promise and the hope, anything can happen whilst you're still on the journey.

  I've decided that I want to continue being transient for the rest of my life. I want a base of course, a home somewhere with a big TV and kid's drawings on the fridge and a man in the garden messing about deadheading things. I'd like an office with a shiny computer and a nice picture on the wall for me to write my stories and plan my lessons. I'd also like a flat somewhere in Seville, somewhere in New Zealand and somewhere a little bit tropical as well so that I have the option of going elsewhere to write or think for a short while. You see, I have to keep the child inside of me alive because the little girl looking out of the window and enjoying the view is the only part of me that remains after many years of her body and her brain dis and then reconnecting. Transiency is my safe haven and the honest reason for it is because I enjoy a good wander around and a chance to smell the roses out there in the big wide world before the familiar sound of home starts to call out to me again and I realise I've been away for long enough and it's time to return to my mum, dad and sister with my arms wide open and a heart just full of love.

To Message or not to Message

People who have read many of my blog entries will know that I usually write about introspective feelings, thoughts and emotions, but today I would like to write about something altogether different. I am going to talk about messaging today as I think it is a relatively new phenomena in a world which has known human civilisation for a couple of million years and until quite recently relied solely on voices and body language to engage in the ancient art of communication.

  Before the introduction of the humble telephone in the 1870s people could only communicate when standing directly in front or in shouting distance of another person and I imagine that this was a far simpler time for everyone involved. Once upon a century or so ago when a person took a walk to the local shops for a pint of milk they simply wandered out of the door, towards the shop and then once their transaction was complete they came home again. Things have changed. Nowadays when a person wants to purchase a pint of milk they tell Facebook about what they're going to do before they do it and no doubt photograph the milk whilst it is still in the fridge so that everyone can be aware of the milk that they are buying. It is important for those on our friends list to know that we are getting enough calcium. This photographing of the milk which I'm sure you are already aware is just a metaphor for all things social networking related and is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the cataclysmic set of problems that technology has seen fit to afford us in the modern day.

   … Enter.. the smart phone. I have a smart phone and I'm very fond of my smart phone but I think that for all of the ease of communication that my smart phone affords me, I would probably be better off without it. I remember those halcyon days when phones didn’t have colour screens and a camera was something new and exotic; things were definitely simpler in those days. I didn't have a smart phone and all I used my phone for was to exchange simple messages and phone calls about functional matters and then everything changed. My phone developed and went from being regular to smart and then to highly intelligent. My phone has a mind of its own now and it makes me doubt myself, it's always there flashing on and off, telling me who's read my messages and is now ignoring me. Or perhaps this reader is just busy and has every intention of replying at a more convenient time? But why not now I ask myself? Am I not important enough? Does my message not carry enough significance to make you abandon everything you're doing so that you can engage in a conversation with me about the state of the leggings on the person I just walked past?  Whatsapp used to be great for  avoiding this pattern of self doubt. Whatsapp didn't have a 'read' function and I liked it this way. Whatsapp has a 'read' function now (strange that this happened once Facebook took over it hey?) which means that in the shake of two little blue ticks you can go from feeling comfortable and secure to weird and irritable. Everyone's been there and no one likes it so why do we do it to ourselves? Why don't we insist that we would prefer it if those we are communicating with just got back to us in their own time without the pressure of little blue ticks, 'read' receipts, last seens, 'online nows' and the plethora of other methods we use to trick ourselves into feeling insecure.

  I am aware that I am saying 'I' and 'me' a lot. I'm not speaking about me particularly but more patterns and events I have witnessed over the last couple of years as communication becomes more and more widespread and life as we know it begins to change. I remember once when I was waiting to hear back about a job and I was frustrated because I was well aware that the giver of the job could easily send an email about it from their mobile phone. Why can't they just tell me? I wondered. Well the answer is simple, it just wasn't appropriate at that time. I got the job and all was fine but those few days waiting were a nightmare. The instancy of modern life began to be somewhat difficult in those few days. Everywhere we turn these days there's a new phone mast or an internet connection appearing somewhere bizarre so that we can check our emails halfway up a tree or post a selfie from the middle of the ocean. I would like to go back to a time when telephone calls were functional and read receipts and little blue ticks were still light years away. I don't like them, I don’t need them and to be quite honest I'd like it if Mr Technology could take it all away and leave me with the simpler life I had before. So then ladies and gents, should I ditch the genius phone when this contract runs out? Perhaps I should go and live in a tent, grow vegetables in an allotment and drink my water fresh from the river. I could have an entirely more natural and self sustainable life than the one I live now which appears to run on electronic communication. I could live in nature and send smoke siganls when I really need to talk to someone and you can bet I'd never feel even the slightest need to take a photograph of myself falling alseep and show it to the world.

  In conclusion… I don't think I'm really going to go and live in the middle of nowhere, ditch my smart phone and teach myself how to build a fire from scratch but I would like more information from whoever created all of this technology on how best to use it and more importantly when to use it. Should it be functional or should it be leisurely? Should I have my phone with me all of the time or should I feel okay about leaving it at home? I guess the whole point of this little rant of mine has been to simply say that I don't know why on God's green earth a person needs to know everything about everything. Where has the mystery gone? Where is the intrigue? Why does New Zealand feel like it's next door to Spain when it is actually just over a day away? Take me back to a time when the world was mysterious, unknown and less electronic… says I, Helen who is posting this onto the interweb. Hypocritical no?

Homeward Bound

Just two weeks ago I wrote about future plans and happenings. I was having a 'where am I going?' moment. I appear to have made my mind up about what I'm doing and where I'm going now.

2.5 years ago I decided to embark on a TEFL course and get myself a teaching qualification, we all know why. The CELTA certificate which I obtained has enabled me to work in Greece, Spain, Cheltenham, Ascot and Oxford and my oh my what a journey it's been. I've met people I never dreamed I'd find... Wonderful Greek girls who changed my perception of a nation, so many English speakers who've each added a stitch to the material of my TEFL experience and those of a Latino disposition who've welcomed me to their country and helped me survive their language and create a place for myself within their culture. I've been to places from travel guides with my visitors and made a home away from home in an enchanting Southern Spanish city which I can only describe as fabulous. 

The last 2.5 years have been up, down and inspiring. They've enabled me to lay the ghosts of the past to rest and learn to embrace the present under the glowing warmth of the Mediterranean sun. I have become a teacher and been known as Miss Helen, Meez, Elen, Elena and Heleeeeen, señora, Kiria and sometimes Teacher. The English language has been opened to me and now I know just what a relative clause is as well as the meaning, form and pronunciation of the all confusing conditional sentences. In short, I have had my mind opened wide to the possibilities of the world and all thanks to the language I've been learning since I was a baby. Never have the words, 'you were always just around the corner' rung quite so true. It turns out that the answer to my prayers was in my voice box all along. 

Things often don't last forever and even the most wonderful of events and patterns have an end. TEFL as my main income has begun to reach its final destination. The train is still 6 months away but it will reach it and when it does I am going to get off and bid it the fondest farewell as I wave it on to save the next life it picks up and speeds away to better days. 

I shall be heading back to university in the country of my birth and land of ancestors. The skies above contain the memories of those I've loved and lost and I can be sure that the promise of a familial face is but a train ride away. I am going to start chasing another dream now that I'm satisfied I have made this one come true, one chapter approaches its end as another looks forward to its beginning. 

Live strong, think healthily and teach :-)

Making Sense

I have spent a considerable amount of time in my life trying to make sense of things that don’t make any sense to me. I have concluded that very little makes any sense and that’s just the way it is. In the past I have tried to find my sense from the heavens above, the ground below and the people around. I have also tried to find sense within myself but then realised that I was simply internalizing all of the unhealthy things I was inclined to feel and that in turn didn’t help either. Making sense of things can be and is a very difficult thing to do and making sense of things on our own isn’t always beneficial to us achieving the very best we can.

 I am living alone for the first time in my life and so far I’m finding it to be a cathartic experience. I am enjoying putting things in their rightful place and mooching about doing things in my own time. I am very much at a ‘what next’ place in my life. I quite honestly don’t know what to do next; I’ve told myself that I’m staying in Spain until June of 2016. (My phone contract runs out then and I’m quite simply not paying Yoigo a small fortune like I did with Vodafone before I upped sticks and moved to España.) I entertained thoughts in the summertime of returning to England after this year is out. I quite like England I thought to myself… but I quite like Spain as well and I reckon I’d also quite like Japan. I’ve often wondered about doing a PGCE and working as a teacher either secondary or primary, I’ve also considered doing a Master’s in some form of creative writing which could enable me to go after the career I’ve always wanted. I’d have to do these things in England and England is the place of breakdowns and bad weather but then on the other hand it is also the place of the forever love of my family and my beloved City of Liverpool. I can walk around Liverpool and know exactly who works in that shop and the best place to find the very best tights. I know which supermarket sells my favourite type of bread and I know that there is a welcoming aunty to be found around every corner and also in the skies above. My beach stretches along the coast of Crosby and the Sainsbury’s clock in the town centre has been broken since I was 9 years old, these are both things which are both familiar and comforting to me. My dad can be found pottering around our back garden and Specky Dave can be found spouting his adorable nonsense in Stamps Bar & Bistro. When I go home I am surrounded by people who say ‘heyyyyyy Helen! When did you get back?’ and when I get back I feel very safe and sound, like I am in the place I am supposed to be in. Bold Street, Wood Street, Lord Street, they run through my veins like I used to run through their streets as a teenager. Primark too, a place where I’m guaranteed to find familiar faces and then there’s the docks carrying their memories of times long gone and best forgotten. You can guarantee that a memory will flash up somewhere wherever I am in Liverpool and when you have a brain that has largely organised itself on how best to self protect and keep away harm this can be a little alarming. Nevertheless, it’s still home and home it will always be, despite the rain and the cold.

 My current thing that I’m trying to make sense of is making sense of where my home actually is. I’ve been listening to Blood Brothers and other Scouse accenty things lately. The voices are very soothing and they remind me of everything I have always known. They also remind me that everything I know is beginning to change and I am becoming more accustomed to somewhere else and somewhere else’s customs. But what about my own customs? What’s happened to them? Will they stay with me or will they go somewhere else? Am I am expatriate now or just a Briton living abroad? I daresay these things will become more clear as time goes on but today I can’t help but wonder. Who am I and where should I be?

Clearing The Slate

  Starting again is something everyone likes to do sometimes. I know I like a fresh start every now and again. A fresh start can be a change of e-mail address, a new phone number, a house move or emigration. Sometimes a new start is the end of a relationship or the beginning of a new one or perhaps a new job. Fresh starts are the chance to clear the slate and start anew. I like to think of them as giving ourselves a second chance to correct past mistakes and improve on our futures.

 

  Four years ago I ended a relationship with a steady and dependable man in favour of a less steady and dependable life. I didn’t like the way my life was going and I didn’t think that the relationship suited me very well, so off I wandered into pastures new. I really didn’t have the first idea about what was to befall me in these new pastures. I have endured 4 years of tumultuous emotions which only seem to have truly settled in recent weeks. I developed coping mechanisms borne out of negative happenings and as a result the years which followed my break up have not gone according to plan, looking back I don’t really know how I managed to have any sort of life at all. I have gotten far too used to anticipating the worst in myself, others and situations. I have spent the best part of 4 years devoid of hope and optimism, haunted by the ghosts of the past and unable to see the lights illuminating the paths of the present.

 

  Everything reached a sudden and dramatic halt on December 30^th when I found myself feeling like I couldn’t take another minute. I made the decision to go to the hospital and visit the mental health crisis team; I firmly believe that this service saved my life. Had I not had them to go to I really don’t know what would have happened. I appreciate that this is a strong statement and may alarm some people who care for me but I urge you not to be upset. I fully acknowledge that it is hard to stomach and causes upset but if people with my problems don’t come forward and talk about them then you can guarantee that someone, somewhere else will pay for our silence and I can’t have that so I have decided to be vocal about my depression and the impact it has had on me.

 

  So there I was; feeling like I was going slightly mad in floods of tears in a busy NHS waiting room the night before New Year’s Eve 2013. I was prescribed some medication which I take every day and I have also been completing an online Cognitive Behavioural Therapy course (CBT). This new fangled CBT has been making more of a difference to my thought patterns than I ever believed possible and its results are visible to everyone. I seem to have broken out of my negative cycle and I am now able to talk to others rather than shy away, I like being in social situations rather than sitting there praying for them to be over and the anxiety which plagued me has begun to ebb away into a state of nothingness leaving a rainbow glowing in colour in its wake. I didn’t believe a state of mind like this was a long term possibility for me and it is a bigger relief than anyone could ever imagine. I’ve discovered support in people new to my life and support in those who are long term fixtures but live far away. I’ve found support in myself and a belief that I can sustain my new frame of mind for an extended period of time beyond the foreseeable future. It’s just a bloody miracle and I’m grateful for it every day.

 

  I’ve got good people around me and a good life ahead of me. I’m learning to live in the moment and worry less about the past and the future. It is now apparent to me that the past has been and gone and the effect it had and was echoed through my thinking has lost its power and control over the present day me. In the simplest of terms… I have cleared the slate and moved on, both mentally and physically. The demons of the past have moved aside and let the magical entities of the present and the future guide the way forward through the miracle of life.

Jam buttie vs Victoria Sponge - It's the little things that count.

 I have found that in life we often spend a lot of time making time for the big things as we focus on holidays, promotions, new cars and so on and so forth whilst the little things fall aside in significance. It has come to my attention that this is not a good idea because the little things are in actual fact the bread and butter of our lives. The little things get us through whilst we wait for the big things to make their cumbersome way around the corer. The little things are the sprightly moments which make up our days and I don’t think that we pay them enough attention.

  Case in point: mugs. I don’t know about you but I drink a fair amount of tea and coffee. I like to have a couple of nice mugs so that this very regular experience is never a sub standard one. Tea or coffee drunk out of a nice mug makes this every day particular somewhat better and upgrades the level of the experience. The same can be said for meal times; why have a substandard meal when the inclusion of Dill on your eggs can improve it and make you feel like you’ve had a little treat?

  I came to this conclusion a few years ago when I was overcoming the effects of a very unpleasant depressive episode. I had been in crisis mode for a little while and I had stopped enjoying anything and was living mostly on toast and wine. It wasn’t great really and nothing had much joy in it. As the depressive episode eased away and I started to eat properly again, I developed a great amount of interest in cooking and using food to get myself back to good health. It was while I was doing this that I became aware of my enjoyment in making a cup of tea, using nice bath time products and ironing my clothes for work. While I was undertaking my on stage role in my depressive episode I had forgotten that actual living exists, I had simply been existing and doing the absolute minimum to get me through each day. I started to return to some semblance of normality and I began to enjoy myself, daily life didn’t feel like a monotonous road to nowhere anymore. I realised that I liked doing the food shopping, I liked running out for a pint of milk, I liked waiting for a bus, and I enjoyed opening the curtains in the morning and then closing them at night. This curtain ritual meant the start and end of days I was not desperate to be over, I could actually find them pleasant and this was a new feeling to me. Life was normal and for the first time in my life I was content with living a normal, every day life. I was going to university and I had my part time weekend job, for a time things were very steady and I had a nice and regular flow to my life.

  I have made it clear that I have depression and sometimes ‘episodes’ occur and it all becomes quite dramatic until it becomes intolerable and I have to do something about it. I have found that living for the little things helps to keep these episodes at bay. I spend my time looking forward to the things I know will happen and I can count on them. Big things will come along as they always do and when they come along they are lovely, but life is not a Victoria Sponge. Life is bread and butter and the little things are the jam which makes the whole thing that little bit sweeter. I think we should all aim to have lovely jam so that when the Victoria Sponge has been eaten and only the crumbs are left we still have our jam buttie to fall back on for comfort until the next big cake makes its way around the corner.