I’m going on holiday!!!! Never thought it was going to happen but we leave tomorrow and I’m feeling like an excitable puppy. I’m a home bird at heart but sometimes just getting away is what we need.
I find that home can be a little bit like a pressure cooker, and that pressure just builds and builds until it’s too much to contain. And I think a lot of us are getting to that point.
A lot of us probably haven’t left our hometowns in over three months which is just crazy. We never would have thought that would be the case as we saw in 2020, and look where we are now.
We’re still staying in the UK so it’s not like I’m venturing far, but I feel like that bungee cord that has been holding me within such a small circle over these few months has finally started to lose its elasticity and so my reach is increasing bit by bit.
Whether this is a luxury that we are going to still have in a few months, I don’t know. But for now, I’m going to enjoy feeling that stress and pressure ebb away.
PS I reached 500 followers today and I am so honoured that so many people have chosen to hit that button. I love you all.
Does anyone else have a bit of a geeky love of words and phrases? I can’t get enough of finding out where these things come from, to the point where I think it’s a bit nerdy.
I love the history behind it all. I love those quirky stories.
For example, did you know where the phrase ‘fell off the wagon’ comes from? When people were still being executed they were driven to the execution site on a wagon. On the journey, the executioner would allow the prisoner to stop at an inn and he would buy him a drink. Invariably, someone would ask if they could buy the prisoner another drink. The executioner would then say ‘sorry, you can’t because he’s on the wagon.’
Or, carrying on the drinking theme, ‘painting the town red’ probably comes from a legendary night of drinking where the Marquis of Waterford went a bit crazy. A whole mob of his friends got drunk and vandalised Melton Mowbray. They pulled off door knocker and then set about painting statues in the town red.
I could go on and on. I find these little stories fascinating and I always find myself telling people these stories when they say a word or phrase. I’m either a fountain of interesting knowledge to them….or I’m just really annoying.
Oh dear, I’m having a bit of a wobble. I’m stuck between two warring parents and I’m not going to be able to please either of them. I’m back to being that little girl that has no power of her own, she’s only here on this earth to please these two people.
At the moment mum won’t speak to me because she says that I’ve taken dad’s side and dad’s getting angry with me because I won’t sell my flat to keep hold of the home I grew up in.
It may seem a silly choice but I’m comfortable here and I know that I can afford to pay for it. I have horrible memories of that house now and if anything happens to him, I’m left with a house that I’m not sure I can afford.
I am desperately trying to find my voice so that I can be heard, but every time I raise it I’m told that I’m either evil or being ridiculous. Am I just a stupid little girl, or is my stupid choice a valid one?
I’ve lost one parent without even trying (she’s the one who thinks that I’m a devil worshipper because I go to recovery meetings where people are allowed to pray to a God of their understanding, rather than a Christian God), I don’t know if I can lose another one.
There’s something rather hypnotic about the gentle patter
Of feet on slick wet pavements
As miles tick by and thoughts disperse,
At least that’s what they tell you in the magazines.
What really happens is the thoughts grow sharper
With each deep and ragged breath
Until they’re razor sharp and hurt to touch.
I always end my runs in pain, gasping for the air
That makes me seethe with anger
And leaves me wondering if runs
Are quite as healing as they say.
I’ve been running since my son was born and he is now fifteen, so it’s been quite a while. But while I’ve built up a tolerance that means I can run further than I ever thought possible, I don’t seem to have built up the same tolerance for bad thoughts that pop into my head while running.
I’m not an outwardly aggressive person so anger feels quite painful to me, just because I don’t know how to let it out and express it. But where running should help me get away from all of those horrible feelings, it tends to give me time to let them fester.
I have sometimes come back from a run in tears because the emotion has been too overwhelming and it has made me consider giving up altogether. But then maybe I need that time to get angry while I’m out on my own and actually that time is really valuable in helping me to work through feelings?
It’s really difficult to love something so much, but also find it so painful at the same time. I will carry on because I feel like I need it in my life but I’d be interested to know if other people have the same love/hate relationship with something.
I just wish that I could get over this and make my runs feel more enjoyable again.
I love a little bit of cheese. I’m ashamed to admit it but I really love the sweet little gestures in life; the things that don’t really cost anything, but that show me someone is thinking about me.
When I was in a relationship I always loved letters and cards or him bringing my favourite ice cream home from work. Just those token gestures were special to me.
The other day I was feeling really sad and when I got into my car I closed the door and just let myself sob in a really self indulgent kinda way. I was rummaging around to find a tissue when I found a little rolled up strip of paper that had been dropped between the front seats.
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and unrolled the note that just said ‘I’m really glad that you’re my friend’.
I have no idea who wrote this note, but just reading something nice made me feel so much better. To be truthful, I don’t even think the note was for me; I think it may have dropped out of my son’s school bag when I gave him a lift home.
But that’s beside the point. It was nice to read something, anything!, kind and pleasant and it showed me how powerful a few nice words can go towards brightening someone’s day.
I kept the scruffy bit of paper for a couple of days and just looked at it whenever I got in my car because it just cheered me up. Even if it wasn’t for me, I told myself that it was for my son and I brought him up to be the charming young man that he is (so I guess that means I can vicariously take some credit for his niceness to other people (right?))
I just wanted to write this in the hope that whoever reads it might be persuaded to write a nice note to someone. Even if it’s a work colleague that you know is having a bad time, I’m sure it would be appreciated and it’s always nice to send out some positive energy into the world.
I guess it’s shame, but then there’s flecks of hate
And when I turn it on the tongue
I wish that I could find a way
To soothe the tongue with silky sweets
That take my life to great new heights.
I have had a bit of a weird situation where someone else at my work went for the same teaching job that I did. I got a placement and she didn’t which is fair enough, but it turns out that everyone that works with us seems to have an opinion and it’s not entirely positive.
I work nights and I keep myself to myself most of the time, so most of these people know nothing about me apart from the fact that I’m quite quiet and sensitive.
Anyway, the girl I worked with last night told me that they had been discussing it and everyone had been wondering why I got a spot on the course and this other lady didn’t. It seems that most people thought I should be the weaker candidate.
In the past I would have been devastated on hearing this and I’d have struggled to face these people knowing that they ‘didn’t like me’.
However, I’m now really working hard at being confident in myself and I need to remember that their opinion is just that; it’s their opinion. And what does their opinion matter to me? The director of the programme who has forty years of teaching experience saw something in me and so I should be proud of that fact.
I’m learning (very slowly) that I need to have confidence in my own ability otherwise it will all just fall flat again. I earned that spot because I have the makings of a good teacher and I deserve to feel proud of that.
I also don’t have the right to be angry at people for having their own opinion. They’re not going anywhere by slagging me off after work so I really shouldn’t be worrying about them. I need to concentrate on moving forward myself so that I can be a good teacher and help loads of kids.
Getting even only makes you as good as the next person along. By concentrating on bettering myself against my own standards, the sky’s the limit. And that conserved energy can be used to help pull other people up too, rather than trying to push them down.
This mentality has helped me feel a lot less bitter and it’s meaning that I’m wasting far less energy. I think anger and bitterness are the most draining and uncomfortable emotions ever and I will do anything to reduce them in my life.
I may be learning slowly, but I am learning. And if I continue to grow in this way then perhaps I will be able to make the world a slightly better place, just because I was in it.
And when I pass the shelf of slices filled with cream
I’ll stop and think about the times we’d get home late
From working in the bars, and crawl into our bed
We’d sit and watch the trashy late night shows
Inhaling such indulgent treats, almost unaware
Of crumbs that flaked upon on the sheets
It didn’t matter as I had you by my side, and still
It pains the heart to see those little boxes in the humming fridge
Two slices side by side, waiting to be bought
One for me and one for you.
I do write quite a bit about memories but I do find them so fascinating. I think it’s because they can bubble up so unexpectedly and can initiate such strong emotions.
It was just last night, at work, I was putting out some of our chilled delivery when I was faced with a case of cream slices. As I was putting them into the fridge I was reminded of my ex and I eating them in bed after a hard shift at work.
The shop we bought them from must have been open 24 hours because I seem to remember getting them on the way home after work, well after midnight. But I have vivid memories of sitting on our bed and devouring them while watching TV
I felt in love, safe, content and relieved that another hard shift was over. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that since, so perhaps that’s why this is so memorable.
Anyway, I didn’t have much more to say about it, other than: aren’t memories strange and wonderful and scary, all at once? I wish that I could understand them on a more scientific level because I find it so interesting.
My heart broke a little bit as I put those desserts on the shelf. But in a good way, because I remembered that I was loved once and I still have a whole lifetime to look forward to where I can eat cream slices with friends and family and lovers. And I guess that’s enough of a reason to stay alive.
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