Writing is my rabbit hole

Being someone who enjoys creating, you are your own worse critic.
Notoriously harsh, unforgivably rude, and difficult to please. I describe myself of course. I am so close to completing my new book, so close that the fear has started setting in like damp on a wall.
This is all I have ever wanted to do, and the possibility of my work being negatively received is the hardest mountain to climb. I tell myself the storyline is interesting, my characters complex and real, my words are well written. I've certainly read worse. Yet I slow my pace, I am suddenly in no rush to finish. I dread the day I send this out into the world, only my eyes have seen this draft. Only I have absorbed it's content and it has become a part of my soul. A year of my life has been imbedded within this book, every spare minute, every other thought has been for this story.

It's been a hard year for me.
As I wrote the above sentence I paused afterwards and realised how true that statement is. It has been a difficult year in some parts. I have questioned myself and others a lot. I've met new friends but also lost some. I let someone damage my confidence. I regained my strength only recently.

I feel that a lot of last years experiences have slipped into my character and fed the book with much needed nourishment. Because I remembered this is my escape. My only way out.

Writing is my rabbit hole.

If anyone reads my book, they will touch a piece of me. They will be much more than a reader. For this book, reading it will mean that year with it's hard weeks will have been worth something.

January Fat.

Being hungry is terrible.
Feeling fat is about as worse.
I think women feel the emotion behind weight differently to men. As a woman you feel upset and lack confidence because you don't match others or your own expectation of what you should look like, but you're so hungry, and you crave all the wrong things. Then you feel angry and upset that you can't have those things, you can't fill that empty space. If you struggle on it's exactly that...a struggle. If you cave then you're worse off than when you started because that packet of biscuits, that extra portion of fries, it all mounts on bit by little bit.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Is it really because the media presents us an idea we desperately want to match? Or because New Health Magazine says it's good for you and your health to change your lifestyle? Bullshit. Is it because we want someone to look at us and feel something positive? To be looked at and admired? Is that so shallow? Is it because the media and men and every second person out there has made us terrified of being undesirable?
I know for sure life seemed easier when I was a set, consistent size 8. But that was seven years ago, and if you learn anything growing up at the bottom of working class it's that nothing comes for free.

For me, I dislike my face. *Shrug* It is what it is...people didn't call me ugly for the first eighteen years of my life for nothing. I wouldn't agree with ugly, that's harsh. Plain is a kinder word. I can't afford surgery, and yes...I would pay to change my face if I could so knock that judgemental expression off your face if you disagree with cosmetics. I can change my body. I've kind of thought since I turned nineteen that if I kept my body looking "Woah!" then it would distract from what's going on above the shoulders.

I have my ups and downs you know...sometimes I feel fine about my body, but it only takes one person to make you feel fat and suddenly you're bothered by this idea daily. I've put on two extra inches around my middle section. This may not sound like much but it's the difference between being comfortable with your stomach and not daring let it peep out to the public! Your skirts get longer, your sweaters get bigger and you shrink in on yourself like a turtle.

This is what has spurred my January change. Someone's made me feel overweight and the measuring tape has confirmed the boogie man of pounds has sneaked up on me over winter. I'm babbling, I know. I just needed to get this out. I'm so hungry. I'm angry that this extra weight doesn't feel ok. I'm upset that while wearing my favourite dress last night I continuously felt conscious of what those extra inches looked like. Going to wrap this up now...I've ranted, I can't count how many women are likely out there this January feeling similar and are right now unsatisfied and hungry for something. You are not alone. I am not alone in this.

It's shit.

It's shit.

What else is there to say? I'm not really in the mood to rant on for a page and a half.
I'm so glad it's Friday, I feel like it's taken a lifetime to get here.

I'm totally pissed off right now, with just about everything, even this stupid sodding McAfee app that wont un-install on my computer and continuously asks me to renew. Sod off!

In fact the only person who hasn't pissed me off right now is out of the country. I'll have to get used to that, my wild Pidgeon is a flyer! Already wish you were back, because as I said, I still like you and I need advice.

Tonight I miss the days when my biggest concern was remembering my homework and how the hell I was going to get that love letter back from that year 10 hottie! (I never did get it back) God that was embarrassing. Those days I had time to put things off, now I feel like I'm running out of time. And now the mouse-pad of my laptop isn't working. -Bloody Hell!

There's only one answer. There's only ever one answer that I have: I need to finish writing one of my books.

Happy January, year 2016

For the second year running I am starting a new job in January. While I'm certain I'll draw on the skills I developed in my last role, I can only hope I don't have to face the same challenges this time around. I'm keeping an open mind, and remaining positive, after all, what other choice do I have?

The pirate ship I was on for my last job has given me a tainted view of 'The Workplace', one I hope will be proven as an anomaly. This new role is only temporary, I'm keeping that in my mind in case the role drives me crazy as I have little doubt it will.

My brother thinks I need to accept the life I have. By that he means: stop putting so much focus on dreams. Get used to the thought-numbing day-to-day process that is average life. I know what he's getting at, he thinks I'm prone to depression in later life when the dreams are still in the clouds and my feet are on the ground. He's grown to believe the dreams are unachievable, because none of us, my brothers, my dad, and I have ever been satisfied with ordinary life. We crave more, the American Dream. The freedom. Seaside homes and work that's a hobby.

My brothers have more than ten years on me, they have set out paths for themselves that cannot be re-directed in any which way. I suppose I have too, in some areas, but I refuse to accept reality. I've said it so many times, they don't believe me, and Hell sometimes I don't believe it myself but times like that I have to give myself a stern talking to: "I'm a doer, not a dreamer"
I will accomplish everything I set out to do.
I jumped out of a plane at 15,000 feet. One of my biggest goals and one of my first. I will not settle for this average exsistance that suits so many others. I will conquer.

So this new job is temporary.
I'll publish my books, I'll build my own business and give it a good go, I'll tick every box on my list.

The mundane day-to-day, the weekly supermarket run, the bus timetable, the counting pennies is not my life, it's just a small part of surviving.
My life is new experiences, it's heart pumping while riding a horse, floating in water bluer than Aftershock, inhaling clouds at 15,000 feet, it's taking something plain and crafting it into a thing of beauty. I'm alive when I'm discovering, when I'm writing, when I'm in the clouds.

Happy January, year 2016...I have another year of dreams to tattoo onto my soul.

I'm getting ready to go out.

I'm getting ready to go out. Out, out, as in dinner and dancing up town. I haven't been dancing in a club for over a year which is slightly concerning since I'm only twenty two but hey I never pretended to be a Party-animal. I've changed and re-changed my dress three times, I've downed two Malibu's already and I'm cursing myself for not practicing my dance moves a bit more recently. Because tonight the guy I have the hugest crush on is going to be there, and for some bizarre reason I'm a bundle of nerves at the thought of dancing with him watching me. I've been texting my best friend as she get's ready and anyone would think I was a college student fantasising about the guy next door, not a grown woman who's biggest crush is her BOYFRIEND...how lame is that!

This man has seen me naked, seen me at deaths door (...well with a snotty nose), seen me hammered out of my face (apparently! I don't remember that night but I'm told it happened) This is the only man to have bent me over backwards and knows every flaw, every crease-in quite some detail. I should not be this excited-nervous to go out on the town in my best dress with him. But dinner I can handle, it's the dancing I cringe about. A few more drinks and I'll be fine. ...I hope.
no, I'll be fine. I can handle a few wiggles on the dancefloor. Just don't let me fall on my face!
Urghhhh!

Girls..."All about the Bass"

It can creep in unexpectedly, at the most random of times, slithering it's way through your entire being: Self Doubt.

I wonder at myself for letting it in, but it's impossible to ignore. Those moments of insecurity arrive and settle in, pouring themselves a drink and laughing at my expense, the uninvited guests at my party.

Suddenly my weight is on the wrong side of the scales, my makeup cannot fix this face, all my clothes that looked fine before seem to now show all the bad bits. I doubt my confidence, I doubt the feelings of my partner, what's he seeing when he looks at me? is it as bad as what I'm seeing right now? Have I been kidding myself during the past times that I've felt happy with myself? Am I overweight? Is my hair too dull? Is my face ugly by the high standards of the day?

At these moments it's easy to turn to the baggy jeans and jumper combination that hides away everything I suddenly feel ashamed of. But I say no.
No to perfection. No to unrealistic ideals [Insert any model in any media medium]

I turn on an emotive song, for example: "All About the Bass" Meghan Trainor
I crank up the volume meanwhile realising I actually know all the words to this one! wow
I dump whatever I'm wearing and slip on some decent underwear, for example: Hot pants and a little help from Anne Summers.
Then...I dance in front of my mirror, half undressed and carefree and what I see is what I get and there's nothing wrong with that because "Every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top!".
And I tell myself any man would be lucky to have this because not only am I nice enough, real and well groomed, I'm also a good person who cares. "I see those magazines, working that photoshop, We know that shit aint real, come on and make it stop" It's hard to big yourself up when you're feeling crap, but if I don't do it, I can't expect anyone else to. I have to rely on myself to gain confidence. "I won't be no stick figure, silicone Barbie doll" I'll continue to be real, and continue to fight against myself to believe that this is ok.

Then I finish my boogie and sit down to right this blog because I know there's another woman who's feeling the same tonight.

Walking out

I walked out on my job today. It felt great.
I went on my dinner and something inside snapped like a tight cord and I found myself on autopilot, collecting my bag and putting on my coat and then just walking away. I didn't look back once. I was home in twenty minutes and feeling the most euphoric sense of relief.

This weekend has confirmed to me that I've made the right decision. Any doubts I may have had lingering like a bad smell have gone. I know in my heart this is the best decision, the only decision worth making at this moment in time. I'm not just walking away, they've pushed me most of the distance and now I'm just finishing the journey.

I didn't get paid on Friday. Everyone else on the team did, so what's the excuse for not paying me my months wages? If this isn't another element of victimising an individual I don't know what is. Too coincidental. No apology, no haste to rectify this. I spent the weekend without any money, and then Monday morning I received a disgusting 'telling off' from these assholes for voicing my concerns! They expected me to sit there meekly and do another days work without having been paid for the last 4 weeks! Are you kidding me? and to be spoken to like a child again, like shit wiped from a dirty shoe sole, I'm not having it. Not even an apology you know that, not a single 'sorry'.
Their callus attitude makes me feel worse, they have no conscious, they don't appreciate the detrimental effect of not getting paid on time, because they are part of a corrupt and selfish system.

I had made up my mind before now I thought but now it's settled. I don't want to be around those kinds of people everyday. I don't want to be unhappy every night thinking about the next day. I'm done with not being treated fairly. I'm done with being underappreciated. I am worth more than this. So this was my frame of mind when I snapped.
I've walked out and to hell with it all.
Yes I'm taking a risk, I'm also taking my life in my own hands and out of someone else's.

I'll just do what I always do...work with what I have and take it as it comes.
This is life, it's hard, and I'm taking it one step at a time.