Rainy Days and Poo Sticks

So this week I have been playing poo sticks. Not the fun kind of pooh sticks with twigs, a bridge and a stream, but the kind that involves smearing poo on plastic windows to be tested for bowel cancer. Yet another unpleasant, but necessary ‘treat’ for the older person. For women these procedures start with a smear test when you’re 25, then the joy of mammograms when you reach 50. Poo sticks arrive when you’re 60. It amazes me that the invitations always arrive on or around your birthday - a special gift from the NHS! 

Run away!!!

I am a basically sensible person, and always take advantage of the various screening programmes, but each time I do I have a mild panic attack. What if they find something? How will I cope? I have never been any good at facing my fears, preferring to bury my head in the sand and run away, but as I get older I realise that I can’t outrun things forever. I’m not being maudlin - most of the time I don’t give my mortality a thought…well, some of the time…but it does give you a different perspective.

Splurge!

I was brought up to be careful with money. While I am partial to an occasional splurge, I have always saved, lived within my means and, even when I divorced, managed to be financially independent. When I retired my income was substantially reduced and, although I am fortunate in that I can manage day-to-day, if I use my savings pot for something, I am unable to replace it. This freaks me out. Is this my rainy day? It doesn’t feel like it, but I seem to have reached the point where I need to say, ‘Spend the lot, you can’t take it with you!’ But being prudent is so much a part of me that I constantly struggle.

For example, last week my husband ordered a shed to replace the one we inherited when we bought this house. But in demolishing the shed, we also demolished the garden wall! 

At least we've still got a gate...

The additional expense this has incurred has completely panicked me. I know we are lucky enough to have the money, and I also know that the new shed will mean that I will actually be able to open the door and get my bike out. But the sleepless nights! I wouldn’t mind but it was my idea…no-one else to blame!

But my bike needs a new home...

I am very appreciative of the fact that I am financially secure - I can help my family out when they need it while I am still around to be thanked by them. But when it comes to myself I find it so difficult and anxiety inducing. I guess it’s the ‘low self esteem’ card showing itself again - I am not worthy! I am on a pendulum swinging between ‘Be careful’ and ‘Sod it’, and I’m still not sure where to jump off!  

Sod it, I'm screwed!

Benjamin Franklin once said, ‘in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes’, so I’m probably screwed either way!

Every Little Thing's Gonna Be Alright...

Who isn't grateful for half price ice-cream?

For the past week or so, I’ve been joining in with the Salted Tail’s ‘Grateful Bedtime Stories'. It involves creating an Instagram ‘story’ listing three things you are grateful for on that particular day, just before you go to bed. And I have been finding it surprisingly difficult. 

If somebody asked me to list the things that I am generally grateful for, I wouldn’t struggle at all. 

Warm, cosy, fed - oh and a cat on the table!

I watch the news and there are daily reports of increasing numbers of people using food banks, struggling with the anathema that is Universal Credit and dreading the next knock on the door. So I am eternally grateful that I own my own home, I am warm and fed and the only knocks on the door are parcel deliveries or the window cleaner. 

He lurves me!

I have known times of hardship, and also loneliness but I now have a lovely husband who, astonishingly, loves the bones of me, despite the fact that these bones are better covered now than they have ever been. He doesn’t judge me and puts up with all my moods and grouches. Grateful? Of course I am.

I lurve them!

I am also lucky enough to have two children, two stepchildren and two adorable ‘step grandchildren’ who all get along, haven’t fallen out, still communicate with each other and with me. One of them even still lives at home - Okay, maybe not so grateful about that, but only because I know he would love to be financially able to move out! 

Loony, lovely family!

I am reasonably fit and well, despite my ongoing knee problems, and so are my family. We have had a couple of bereavements this year, but even these have served to draw us closer together through shared love and sadness.

So all told - and these things aren’t the half of it - I have very much to be grateful for. So why doesn’t it feel like it?

Stupid brain...

Primarily because my stupid brain finds it increasingly difficult to stop worrying about things that will probably never happen and prevent me living my life as I would like to. I am simultaneously convinced that my son is going to lose his job, my daughter is going to crash her car (again - she does have previous…), I’m going to run out of money, my husband is going to stop loving me, I have deep vein thrombosis / breast cancer / motor neurone disease…(delete according to the day of the week!) 

When I write all these things down, I can see how ridiculous, nay ludicrous they sound. But I can’t quieten my mind enough to focus on the simple things that I am grateful for and that make life worth living. I fully appreciate the big things - it’s the little things I need to work on. 

Stay awake for helpful tips...

I am currently listening to an audiobook sent to me by my daughter, who pretty much has me sussed. It’s called ‘The Worry Trick’ by David A Carbonell, and talks about how your brain tricks some people (me) into not only worrying about a variety of things that may never happen but also into worrying about worrying about things that may never happen. It’s been an interesting listen so far, and is making lots of sense about how anxieties affect your life. Haven’t got to the bit that offers any help yet though - I keep falling asleep! At least its helped my insomnia!

Fresh bed linen - another joyful, little thing...

I’m going to continue with #thankfulbedtimestories. I think it’s good for me to recognise little things in my life without contriving to be thankful for them. Hopefully, as time goes on they’ll become less food or drink orientated!

Sing along - you know you want to!

As I drove home from shopping yesterday, a song came on the radio that I was immediately thankful for - ‘Three Little Birds’ by Bob Marley. It made me smile, sing along and I was very grateful to Graham Norton for playing it! 

🎶Don’t worry about a thing, because every little thing’s gonna be alright🎶 

My Lifelong Relationship with Guilt

I have ‘blogger’s block’. Its been over three weeks since I posted anything and I am not happy about it. I’ve been unwell - nothing major, just a virus, but its left me low and lacking in energy. This means I have reverted to daytime telly and comfort eating. Which also means that I feel lazy, fat and useless. And guilty. Guilty that I have kept my husband awake with my coughing. Guilty that I haven't done anything productive. Guilty that I have put on weight. Guilty that I have let my tennis buddies down. Guilty that I haven't blogged. Guilty that I cant even think of anything to blog about.

Comfort or guilt inducing?

I googled the definition of ‘guilt’ and Collins Dictionary gives this: Guilt is an unhappy feeling that you have because you have done something wrong or think that you have done something wrong.

There you have it - ‘think that you have done something wrong’. I constantly think that I have done something wrong, or could / should have done something better.

Born guilty!

This is not a new feeling for me. I was born guilty on 17th February 1956…because two years earlier, on 17th February 1954, my sister died. She was ten, and had leukaemia. I was born on the one day my Mum didn't want me to be born. Typical. It wasn't even my due date. 1956 being a leap year, I could've contrived to be born on 29th February. Maybe then I would've felt special rather than guilty. 

Now logically I know that babies have absolutely no control over when they arrive, but this really has blighted me for the past 61 years. My parents were amazing, and would have been horrified if they had known how I felt, but odd comments about me being born on the wrong day, and them feeling that they would never be able to have birthday parties for me resonated far more with me than the ones about me being the most wanted child ever (don’t know how that made my siblings feel - oh God, something else to feel guilty about). Thinking back, they probably over compensated. I had amazing parties and birthday presents and I was truly loved. I’m not really sure if this feeling of guilt was a conscious one, but as an adult, during a hypnotherapy session, I suddenly found myself staring at my sister’s gravestone, crying because it had my birthday etched onto it. So each year, on birthday, I also reflect on how my parents and my older brother and my sister felt on that day two years before I was born. I can not, and do not really want to imagine how they felt.

Reason to celebrate or reflect?

While this sort of explains why guilt is not alien to me, the feeling doesn't seem to serve me any purpose. The logical, intelligent and reasonable me understands that it is a wasted emotion and that I am not responsible for everything that happens, but the under confident, anxious and low mood me still feels this to be true. All my life I have felt as if I should be able to change things for the better and that not being able to is my fault.

Ridiculous I know, but that’s how I roll! It’s all part of this complex maelstrom that is ‘mental health’. I save my most miserable self for my closest friends and family (aren’t they the lucky ones!), presenting a more balanced front to people who would be mortified to be confronted with my guilt ridden presence. But then I feel guilty that I am making the people I care about the most miserable too. I’m buggered, basically!

But, for those of you who live with someone like me, someone who is able put a brave face on to the outside world, but needs to retreat to how they really feel in the safety of their own home, don’t get sucked in by us. My lovely hubby said this morning that he feels that he is failing, because he should be able to make me happy. This simply isn't true. Someone once told me that, to help someone in a hole, the worst thing you can do is jump in the hole with them. Offer support, a helping hand and eventually they’ll get out - they may even be able to climb out on their own! Patience is probably the key, in the face of the most frustrating of circumstances.

It weighs some of us down

Sorry - this has been a cathartic, stream of consciousness rant. But at least I don’t feel guilty about not blogging any more!

Semantics or a Life Philosophy?

One or two things have happened in the past couple of weeks that have made me utter the words ‘It just shows you need to live for the moment’. I then spent a sleepless night wondering how I would actually do that...

Life is a constant worry...

If you google ‘Living for the Moment’ and select images, you are presented with the kind of slogans and posters that regularly fill my Facebook newsfeed. Frankly tosh, I’m afraid! 

If you search for the definition of the idiom that is ‘living for the moment’, google comes up with ‘live or act without worrying about the future’. Is that really such a good thing? In principle it seems like the perfect philosophy - don't worry, be happy etc. etc. It also sounds like the perfect legal defence…

’Why did you steal that car?’ 

‘Oh I was living for the moment, your Honour’

Doesn't really work does it? Rather than a life philosophy it suddenly becomes a mantra for the selfish. I suppose, as one of the great unworking, I am in the position now of being able to live for the moment, but I still don't know how to do it. Life requires planning and thought if it is to provide you with ‘for the moment’ opportunities. There have been many times in the past when my ‘living for the moment’ would have entailed locking myself in a room and crying for days, but I had two children that needed me to function in a more meaningful way. I had to go to work, cook, clean, wash, iron and get them to school / music lessons / clubs. If I’d selfishly surrendered to my needs, I don't think they'd be the rounded and balanced individuals that they are today.

Rounded and balanced - honest!

It could also be argued that living for the moment gives individuals carte blanche to disregard any advice regarding their future health and wellbeing. Anyone stuffing their face with a twelve inch pizza and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s is undoubtedly relishing the fact that they are living for the moment!

Living for the moment!

Of course, I am taking things to an extreme, but I really don't think that when people say ‘live for the moment’ that is actually what they mean. I think ‘live in the moment’ is a more accurate reflection of the philosophy. Appreciate what you have, at that moment in time, don’t put things off and think ‘next time’. 

It may be simple semantics, but I think I would find living in the moment much more achievable than living for the moment. I will always worry about things, past, present and future - its in my make up, my psyche, my bones. If I hear a travel report of an accident in the vicinity of anyone that I know, I automatically assume that it will have involved one of my friends / family. I do try not to immediately text them now, but it’s taken some effort on my part! 

Lots of my issues with depression have their roots in a past that still comes back to haunt me with monotonous regularity - a smell, a sound, a taste can drag me back to feeling lost and desperate with no warning. Equally anxiety about the future, whether it be the health of myself and my family or financial security, clouds my thoughts on a regular basis!

Family time - joyous

So clearly what I need to do is appreciate things as they happen - a walk in the country, a mad game of tennis, afternoon tea with my friends, time spent with family. Let the past go, regard the future as an adventure and let it happen in its own time and…

Live in the moment!

Sounds good to me!

Navel gazing and not light-hearted. Sorry!

Today I have officially been retired one month, so I thought I’d consider how I feel about it.

Balloon's deflated now...

Where to start? Well, the feeling of being on holiday has waned, and reality is beginning to sink in. I kind of feel distanced from reality, in that nothing seems to relate to me any more. My friends and former colleagues talk on the Book of Face about being peed off on a Sunday, or post cryptic references to work day stresses (they’re all too professional to name names, or be too specific!) and while I empathise, I feel unable to comment as these things don't apply to me now. Am I glad that I’m not facing these anxieties? Of course, but I find I am facing anxieties of a different kind. 

I hadn’t realised how much I relied on the approbation and approval of others to make me feel good about myself. Now I’m reduced to checking my Blogger Dashboard to see if anyone is reading my latest posts! 

I like the pointy bit!

I’m unbelievably busy (how did I have time to work?) but with activities that seem essentially self-indulgent. Nothing I do has a measurably positive impact on others, which is tough to take, because I spent my entire working life trying to make a difference to the pupils that I taught, and had the data to show that I was succeeding! (My husband would no doubt argue that me getting out of the house has a very positive impact on him!)

I get genuinely excited when one of my former team asks me for ideas and advice - it polishes up my ego just a little - and I can quickly lose myself in thinking about how I would solve a problem, what activities I would choose, and what resources I would need. I’m happy to help, but a bit of me is regretful that I’m not delivering sessions myself. It’s those bits of teaching that I sorely miss - not the pressure of meeting targets, preparing for Ofsted, or dealing with the day to day problems of life in a school.

Everybody tells me that it takes time to adjust, and this is undoubtedly true. Retirement is a major life change, after all, and a month is no time at all. I just wish I could enjoy the indulgences that everyone wished for me, and value myself for myself. 

Indulgences!

Maybe then I would be able to embrace new opportunities, however self-indulgent, without feeling that I should be volunteering in a rat infested hell hole wearing sack-cloth and ashes!

I'm sure my navel's here somewhere..

Who knows, maybe one day I’ll write a post entitled ‘Sod It!’ Fingers crossed, and watch this space!