Time For A Change

My apologies if I’ve said this before, but I bloody love September. There’s something about the start of the new school year that holds so much more magic than January 1st. I just want to go out and buy a new pencil case, start a new notebook and slough off a layer of old me (as opposed to actual New Year when I make drunken promises to myself which somehow don’t seem as important when I’m hungover…)

In my many years on this planet I’ve learned that I thrive when things are in a state of flux. While many people get their kicks from roller coasters or throwing themselves off the edge of things, I am most exhilarated when I’m going through MASSIVE LIFE CHANGES (read that in a booming voice). I love moving house, being pregnant and in labour was truly the most thrilling experience I have ever had (I mean, a whole person lived inside of me, come ON) and I will never, ever, tire of house decoration transformation programmes. When things stay the same I get bored, unmotivated and feel like I am stagnating. I need to feel a bit scared, challenged and for life to be a bit unfamiliar to maintain a basic happiness level.

So I am always excited in September. September always means change for me, more so now that I have kids of my own, but I think even in those years between full time education and kids, I still saw September as an opportunity for a fresh start, or to switch things up a bit. Maybe we never really grow out of the three term schedule we got used to as school kids. But either way, we can now stop pretending that we have any sort of Summer (newflash… it WILL rain), knuckle down for some serious graft, and anticipate the glorious show of Autumn (which, of the two most changey* seasons, is my favourite). We can all pledge to start a new hobby/diet/career, learn new things and relive those heady days when we were nervously walking into a new class/school/university in a crisp fresh-out-of-the-packet school shirt/pair of homemade flares. Lovely.

This September is especially exciting for me because after nearly two years taking a detour from my writing career to work in education I am back at my keyboard writing for a living. This means massive changes for me day to day, I can now realistically do the school run in my jeans, decide what times of the day I want to work (hellooo 2am Saturday morning) but most importantly I know I’m going through a MASSIVE LIFE CHANGE and this makes me feel a wonderful sense of freedom.

But there are a few things that can stand in our way of change. The first one, the big one, is fear. Despite my love of change I do seem to get a stuck in little rut with alarming regularity and I suddenly realise that I am doing the same old things day after day because doing something different feels too scary, too BIG. There are times when I long for the feeling of security I have had in my previous lives, the absolute faith that the world, those around me and my life are as they are and will stay as they are for all time. But I think we all know that that feeling is, at the very least, not real. Things can and do change at a moment’s notice and the world can very suddenly feel an entirely different place. Our planet and our lives, are, by their very existence, built on processes of change (don’t make me quote The Very Hungry Caterpillar here). So, in many ways, we must embrace the fear, and realise that whether we like it or not, change is part of all of us.

It can also seem just too hard to deviate from what has become the norm. I made a pledge that this would be my year that the kids would arrive at school on time every morning with all of their book bags, lunchboxes, jumpers, water bottles, signed reading diaries, letters etc attached to them like those other parents who manage to do it day after day (smug bastards). Now, I say this every year but this time I was absolutely convinced I could make it happen. But three mornings in and they have yet to arrive on time despite my best efforts (why is it that children can be utterly independent during school hours but be verging on useless the rest of the time? I mean sometimes Son 2 comes home from school after PE with his top on back to front or shoes on the wrong feet, but he must be capable of some semblance of independence during school hours because I know for a fact that teachers do not have time to help dress 30 kids). Getting kids to change is even harder than changing ourselves. This is why kids watch the same film over and over and over again, they like that feeling of familiarity and routine, because like all of us, it comforts them. But when it comes to life, they HAVE to learn to embrace change otherwise they will end up still living at home at 50 (shudder). But I do realise that in order to get my kids to not be so skatty and hare-brained, I probably need to stop being so skatty and hare-brained myself (and take away all tablets, computers and televisions until they are sitting by the door with their coats on). And it’s not just our kids that can stand in our way, family, friends, colleagues; our lives are a big old tangle of people and finding a way to detour from what has become expected of you can be tricky. It’s tricky, but should not be used as an excuse to stay in a situation that is less that great for you, because even if you don’t change, the world and those around you will.

So it is September that is and will always be, my most favourite and coveted time of year. A time to switch things up and start fresh, try new things and cultivate new habits. I feel like I have come out of my cocoon and unfurled my wings, just like The Very Hungry Caterpillar. OK that happened in Springtime, details, details…

*creative license to make up my own words for the sake of this post.

Antithesis

It’s been a while since I checked out of Facebook. A couple of years ago I pretty much deleted it from my life (although didn’t delete my profile, I’m not THAT removed from society). I removed the app from my phone, I deleted it from my bookmarks, and I set a filter on my email to send any notifications from Facebook directly to my rubbish folder. So, for a couple of years, save a few check-ins on my timeline by friends (which I allowed so at least it looked like I still had some semblance of a life, oh the hypocrisy) I have been leading a life of blissful Facebook ignorance. I no longer felt a bit crap about my life at dinnertime when I was dishing myself up another bowl of generic cornflakes for one while others were sharing photos of their dinner cooked by “wonderful hubby”, I didn’t feel any “mummy guilt” about allowing my kids to spend every day of their holiday on the Xbox rather than taking them on expensive trips to Legoland and the “important” issues of the day (what colour is this dress, a nasty dentist killed a lion) have found their way to me through anonymous internet forums and Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour. So honestly, I haven’t missed it.

But then I got a new phone and I didn’t delete the app quickly enough. Completely randomly and without any warning I started getting notifications on my phone. “Look! Your friend is doing this cool thing without you!” “Someone you barely know tagged you in a post suggesting you like their selling page of stuff you don’t want!” “A bunch of women say if you like this meme the world will be rid of breast cancer forever!”… whatever. And it just got too hard to resist, and quickly the old Fakebook insecurities have crept back into my life, along with all the existential angst and distanced inclusion that undoubtedly ensues.

Anyway, this morning, bleary eyed and in a powerless, semi-conscious state, my phone made the standard pop noise. Someone I know had shared a story about the not-Meryl-Streep-Meryl-Streep quote from about a year ago. In case you have missed it (and I did at the time, maybe I can’t rely on internet forums and Woman’s Hour to keep me up to date), this is about a quote that was by Portugese life coach José Micard Teixeira, but has somehow been attributed to Meryl Streep and has travelled the internet far and wide posing as words of wisdom from the great actress. Loving Meryl Streep, or any nugget of wisdom from older ladies who seem to have their shit together, I got sucked in to begin with and could feel myself thinking yeah, right on! Then I read it again and again and saw how miserable, selfish and hostile it actually was, full of hypocrisy and cynicism. If I was Meryl Streep I would be pissed to have this “wisdom” floating around in my name. I got so riled lying there in my usually cosy, chilled, Facebook free area that it awoke the sleeping lion (named Cecil, in memory) that has been my need to write for the past few years, and spurned me to write this, the antithesis of the not-Meryl-Streep-Meryl-Streep quote. I’m not going to quote the original words here, you can google it and find it yourself if you so wish, this is simply my response. Enjoy…

“We all need to have patience. Not because we are meek, yoghurt knitting hippies but because in order for our society to thrive it must be based on community and understanding. I have reached a point in my life where I realise that I have the power to choose what displeases me, and the strength to deflect that which hurts me. I see cynicism, excessive criticism and demands as issues of the beholder, none of my business. I choose to love without expecting love in return and look for the good in everyone, even those who do not like me. I have got to an age where I realise that I look younger when I’m smiling and older when my face is twisted in a grimace, so I try to project a sunny disposition for the sake of myself and those around me. I learned that pretense, hypocrisy, dishonesty and cheap praise are sadly part of the foundation of our world and that each of those things are borne of a different insecurity. Pretense shows a lack of confidence, hypocrisy is generated by overwhelm, dishonesty is usually an attempt at protection of self, and seeking and revelling in cheap praise is a sign of low self-esteem. If people have knowledge, I love them to share and revel in it and I enjoy other people’s ideas however different they are to my own. Comparison is indeed the thief of joy but it is also a source of inspiration. I believe in a world where there are a million shades of grey and that’s why I accept those who are inflexible just as I accept those who are pliant. I realise that loyalty and honesty must be earned and that some of my friends are merely acquaintances that owe me nothing. Everyone has busy lives and therefore may not realise that something they are saying or doing directly affects me, so I try not to let it affect me. I understand that those who do not know how to give a compliment or word of encouragement are those most needing compliments and encouragement themselves. Exaggeration can be a great source of humour and those who do not like animals have every right to like or dislike anything they please. And on top of that, I have patience. Without patience the world gets just a little more hostile, selfish and sad. The world deserves our patience. “

- by Me, August 2015

I Declare War On Perfectionism

I couldn't understand why I was putting off writing this first post. I have been so desperate to get my blog up and running and there have been many times when I have had long and perfectly crafted posts floating through my head with nowhere to go and I have had to frustratingly allow them to slip away into the ether of my brain. So why, now that it’s all ready and waiting to be written on, was I dragging my heels so much?

And then I remembered something I was told in counselling “You know what your problem is? You’re a perfectionist.” I had to look behind me to see if she was talking to the potted fern behind me because nothing I ever do is perfect. I am constantly feeling like I come up short next to others. My house is always a mess, my kids are always sticky and never ironed, my life (at that time especially) was so far from perfect you could describe it as the anti-perfect. She went on to explain how my self critical nature and disorganised life is a common symptom of the perfectionist, because perfectionists would often rather do nothing at all than risk doing something sub standard. Suddenly the fact that I never bothered cleaning my ugly sixties kitchen made sense. Of course I don’t clean it. Badly applied woodchip wallpaper, disintegrating cupboards and chipped lino would never be the perfect vision of kitsch I had imaged when I bought the house. I could feel my chest puff out with pride. Me! A perfectionist! And there was me going through life thinking I was all rubbish and stuff. Well fancy that.

Now I am aware of it, there is evidence of my perfectionism all around me. My newly painted walls are entirely barren, great expanses of bare paintwork, void of any artistic creation. This is not because I don’t have the frames I need, or the bulging folder marked “art ideas” in my head (and on my Pinterest) just waiting for me to get out the PVA and go nuts, it’s because I’m scared that whatever I create won’t live up to the perfect ideas I have in my head. I know what I want things to look like, what if it doesn't turn out like that?

I think most of us are guilty of perfectionism on some level. We all have an idea of what our perfect looks like. Especially when it comes to the big hitters like career/partner/body. But the trouble is, while we’re all sitting around waiting for our perfect to plop into our inbox/ride up on a white horse/manifest itself out of a packet of Haribo, we don’t realise that true happiness is found in the flaws.

I recently redecorated my house from top to bottom. It took me two and a half months (which I am quite proud of given that I did it virtually single handedly and with two kids in tow). Are my walls perfectly flat? No. Is my cutting in worthy of a professional? Nope. But the fact that it’s all done, and done by me, means that I don’t care whether or not it’s perfect, I really don’t. Just that I did it myself, and has given my house a fresh start is enough for me. The drips in my woodwork remind me how far I have come, and I love every single one of them. If it was all perfect maybe I would be just as happy with it, but then again where would be the evidence of me? All those little blobby bits are my marks on the place. They make it truly mine.

If I hadn’t just accepted the fact that it wasn’t going to be perfect I would never have even started doing up my house, let alone finished it. And it’s time I applied that “just do it” attitude to the rest of my life before perfection paralysis really sets in.

Everyone’s idea of perfect is different. For me, the perfect Malteser is lumpy and bumpy with a big nipple of chocolate on the side, one which has narrowly missed the eye of a quality controller whose job it is to weed out anything less than a perfectly round and shiny specimen (now, that would be a great job). There is so much more pleasure in the odd misshapen Malteser than something blemish free, but I don’t think the makers of Maltesers know that.

Maybe my perfectionism is why I have never pursued any kind of “proper” career, I have great business ideas pouring out of my over active mind every hour of the day, and regularly scour the job listings and find things that on the surface at least, seem “perfect”. But what if, in practice, my business idea flops or I wake up every day dreading going to the office to face a sleazy boss? And what if the perfect career gets in the way of being a perfect mother?

And maybe my perfectionism is what is keeping me single. What if I don’t find my perfect mix of good looks/intellectually challenging/adoring of me but puts me in my place/puts the loo seat down/romantic introduction story (not meeting up on a drunken night out/free dating site/support group for the neurotic). Or what if I find all those things, and it won’t be what I wanted after all (this has happened to me before).

But what if, just maybe, holding out for my perfect is preventing me from finding my happy?

Perfectionism isn’t something to be proud of, or something to strive towards. We should all be running screaming from perfectionism, declare a war on it and banish it from our lives. Because ultimately, it’s not perfection we want, or need, it’s the flaws that make life interesting, happy and fun. Perfection does not breed happiness, perfection breeds worry and stress and sometimes an excuse to do nothing at all and remain in a state of misery. Anti perfection is what we need, revel in the blemishes, celebrate the defects, and that is how we will find our true happy.

Life is like a box of Maltesers, flawed tastes so much better than perfect. But old habits die hard, and as my finger hovers over the “post” button I am wracked with the old perfectionism paralysis; sweaty palms, self criticism and that feeling of just not being good enough. Sod it, what’s the worst that can happen, right?

It's all new and shiny, like

Drum roll, Mexican wave and trumpet fanfare please... my new blog is up and running, wooohoooo! (God I hope someone else is reading this otherwise that is embarrassingly just myself doing the fanfare thing using a fist trumpet. Actually, kinda hope no one else read that bit).

Please don't judge layout as yet, after almost an entire day of creating this beautiful blog from scratch (no standard backgrounds this time, no siree Bob) I have decided that's just about enough geeking for one night (have just spent two hours trying to get the header to stay in the middle, I am now sitting in the dark, desperately need a drink and a wee and haven't had any dinner such has been my dedication to a nicely centered header image. Obsessive thinking style? Moi?), and just want to get it live, online and ready to write on. All clean and new and lovely, yummy!

Attempting to make this blog more pleasing to the eye than the old one, and using it as somewhere I can stretch my creative muscles not only with the writing side of things but also the artwork. Those joining us from my old blog Write Or Wrong Doing It Anyway, thanks and welcome back! You kinda know what to expect from me, so I hope I live up to your expectations and memories. Those that are new (awwww), welcome and I hope you will hang around! Please feel free to comment, share and get involved, if you have a blog yourself, give me a shout, I'll add you to my links (as long as you add me too ;-)) and happy to guest post on others blogs as well as invite guests to post on here. Also anyone with companies that they want me to link to please get in touch (can't promise anyone will actually come to you as a result but the thought is there!).

First (proper and not just wittering for the sake of having less white space) post will appear over the next few days and you will be kept informed by usual means (Facebook, Networked Blogs, Google etc), follow and join so you won't miss it!

Yay, she's back!