Tag: anxiety

The important truth

The moment you place your self worth in the hands of others is the moment you fail.

Harsh isn’t it?

I’ve done it all my life. I’ve regarded myself as important as long as someone else thinks I am. It feels good to be loved, wanted and needed. But the harsh truth of the matter is, as soon as all that goes away, even for a moment, what is left?

You help someone move homes out of the kindness of your heart, it’s natural to want to help someone else. And soon after along with the empty boxes that person drops off your radar. You find yourself running around after them, texting, calling, asking when you can meet up. Are they doing the same thing? Do you have any messages they’ve sent and you’ve not replied to? Any missed calls? Are they chasing you?

You welcome a new family member into the fold, a relative’s new partner, it’s only natural for families to expand over time. They are lovely. You are two couples who gel well and talk for hours. You are glad because you would have missed the relative if you weren’t a part of their new life. And yet you find yourself embarrassed and confused when your asking to meet up is met with a constant stream of excuses and delays. After a while, you start to ask yourself, have I done something wrong? Was I the only one wanting to continue being a family?

You graduate university. You dragged yourself through it, you did not quit and got your diploma. You started because you weren’t sure which path to take, but as time went on, you wanted to feel the flush of accomplishment. To have achieved something just for you. If it leads to a job where it is useful, great, if not, it is still an accomplishment. So why now, when someone says you are wasting your degree, does it knock you for six? What right of theirs is it to make a judgement or any kind of assumption about your life choices? And WHY does it hurt so much when their feelings are impressed upon you?

I’ll never understand the harsh words or actions of others. And truth be told, I think it’s because I couldn’t treat others that way. Couldn’t is probably the wrong word. The word ‘couldn’t’ implies a choice is made. Like a fork in the road. Standing there deciding whether to take the left fork where you ‘could’ be rude or the right fork where you ‘couldn’t. I don’t think it’s a decision at all. I think it’s simply knowing right from wrong and subconsciously knowing what to do. Ultimately it is the lack of understanding of why someone treats you poorly that sets us apart. If, for one minute we understood, you may say we are giving them free reign and excuses for their actions. 

The truth is there are users in this world and then there are the oblivious folk. It’s hard to tell the difference between the two unless you actually approach them and say that what they did has affected you. I’d like to think in most cases this will be met with a desire to talk through things like adults and reach a common ground for moving forward. 

Other times, it might come to creating boundaries. 

Those that take the piss? In future, say no. Your time on this planet and your life is ticking away. You get no do overs, no time back and certainly shouldn’t feel bad more than you feel good. Do I think these people are sitting at home unhappy like I am? OH GOD NO! They are either oblivious to the fact or know exactly what they are doing and still don’t care. 

Those that don’t answer? Are not worth your time. Again, your time is ticking away and it is precious. For all the minutes you spend trying to get someone else’s attention and love is better off spent making your life worthwhile. Chase something that makes you happy and not sad. Life is fleeting. 

Those who judge your choices? To make choices in the first place took a lot of guts. You made it for you. And no one else. Again, you could question their choices, pluck apart their life and see what you find ‘wrong’ with it. But you aren’t that kind of person, who are you to judge or question. So spend the time you aren’t judging others and spend it in the pool on a hot summer day, singing to Disney songs on a road trip and with people who accept you for you. 

Placing your importance in another’s hands will always be hard to avoid, afterall we love to share our lives and in doing so opinions will be generated by those around us. It feels good to please people with your life story. Whether it is to celebrate or impress is really down to the individual. However you look at it, the need to feel love and acceptance is overwhelming. No matter how you look at it, when you are constantly pleasing people you may start to realise that the person who is no longer pleased is you. When you are constantly on the ‘pleasing others’ path in life you’ll be making choices based on what is right for everyone else. What would others do? How would others act? You fall behind on what you want. Just whose life are you living?

Guess what, it is yours! You are important because this life is yours. You are important because of your kindness, your choices, the way you love unconditionally and you are important enough to know when to instigate a boundary. 

Stop the ‘begging’ calls. 

Stop the 3rd ‘follow-up’ texts. 

STOP letting peoples opinions rule your head.

It hurts, I know. 

If you don’t chase, you might not see them again. 

If you don’t send that text, you might not hear from them again. 

If you ask someone to keep their opinions to themselves, they may not respect it. 

Yes it is all very painful, but the truth is, the important truth, why would you want those people in your life to begin with? What are they adding to your life? Because right now, they are taking away from it. 

It doesn’t mean you have to cut them out or block them in all forms of social interactions. The boundary is within. They have the parts of you that you allow. A ‘hi’ at a family BBQ, a wave at a birthday party and a ‘cheers’ at Christmas. Maybe even a boogie at the next wedding, but primarily you say when, why and if. When you take that power back, their actions can know longer affect your feelings of self-importance. 

And that’s the important truth.  

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

Imposter, post 101

Imposter syndrome used to confuse me. 

Not that I didn’t understand it. I had just never heard of it before. 

It affects people who have a clear ability to do something and yet doubt it at every step and find it hard to accept accomplishments and accolades. 

I used to think it was a confidence issue or an inability to accept compliments. But recently, I started to see it as both. When it used to come to my writing, I would do it for me. Something to put my thoughts down and out of my head. It was mostly gibberish that could not be wholly understood by others reading it. A spew of consciousness flooding the page before you like a spilled glass of water. 

Today, there is still the occasional spew, but more often than not I talk about my life. I talk about living with PCOS, home life and a majority of the time travel. How can it be hard when you talk about something that is such a large part of your very being? 

I suppose in a way, talking to you about PCOS is a form of therapy, it is definitely cheaper. I also like to think that in a way it is spreading awareness and in turn that awareness will make society more accepting of women like me. I hope in time that someone who looks like me and has fertility struggles won’t feel so alone. I hope that those who read my PCOS blogs who live with the condition themselves will find a friend and those learning about it for the first time will be able to understand the woman in the corner of the room who shies away from prying eyes. 

Then there are the days when I give you the ultimate treat of discussing our lives and the very interesting things that happen to us. Including but obviously not limited to a deflating pool, buying tinned food and the very real saga of why owning a house has its pitfalls! Intriguing, no?

And then, there are the travelling bits. The reason my stomach flips and what makes me so very happy. I’ve been compiling itineraries for over 16 years, over half of my life, fucking hell, lets speed past that little fact… And it brings me joy like nothing else. I worked in my ideal job for over 2.5 years doing just that and I think I have a knack for it. And I am constantly told, you should do this for a living. Welcome to the stage the Imposter Syndrome. He’s here to point out why you can’t do it. HE’s here to drag your accomplishments through the dirt. He’s here to muffle all the voices of the people who have said they love your writing and how much they love tucking themselves into bed at 10pm just to settle down with your blog. 

Yesterday, I posted my 100th blog. Look at me! I’ve had 3238 views and 1987 visitors to my site. On July 18th I reached a new high of 170 views in a single day. I often find myself refreshing the statistics page of my blog app because it doesn’t feel real. Sometimes I wonder if it is the need for validation to shut up the Imposter guy but lately he doesn’t sound as loud. In the beginning, I kept my writing all very hush hush and other than sitting at a table in front of some family members when the time to write is upon me, it is very much a behind closed doors activity. Although, lately it has been a very late night, laptop on the bed with the lamp on, annoying Mr W to no end kind of activity, but let us forget about that for a minute. I don’t like the idea of sitting in front of people and typing away, it feels like those writers you see in Starbucks writing the next great American novel. Too flashy for me. I also find I don’t like discussing my blog. If I don’t discuss it I don’t have to hear negative comments or the ‘what if you said it in this way’. It’s like I feel the need to change my voice. And in all honesty it’s taken me a few years to recognise the voice I have and realise that I don’t want to change it. 

Recently, I’ve had the most wonderful comments about how I should write a book. How my travel pieces are transporting people from their sofas to a Piazza in Italy or a hiking trail in Northumberland. I sit their mouth tightly closed because I simply do not know what to say. There will be a little nervous laugh, some kind of look to Mr W and a response like ‘oh no I could never do that’. And the truth is, I don’t know if I could do it. Not from a writing perspective, my writing comes from my brain like a stream. I hardly stop to think. If I think about what to write too much it becomes so involved and pompous I’ll CTRL-A and delete that crap despite the time spent on it. I just can’t do it. It doesn’t feel like me talking. I’m very aware right now that the CTRL-A may be lost on some of you, but I am also aware that’s how I wanted to explain it and I’m the only one to please. Selfish? No. Staying me, only slightly, yes. 

Maybe I will write a book one day, it’s not the writing that scares me. It’s the idea I need to have to write it. Everything I write about here is real. It has happened. In real life, past, present or near future. I’ll discuss plans and ideas. Who wants to read that in a book? I sometimes think that’s the point, write something that shouldn’t work and just maybe it will. 

I sit here, smiling, how on earth did I get to 100 blogs? When I started Mr W said it would be great. And I didn’t listen, I was just stubborn enough to aim to write every day for a year. To set myself the challenge. Maybe now, the tack on to the challenge is to start believing that the imposter guy is wrong. That when someone shares one of my blog posts it’s because it resonated. I didn’t know they had done it, I don’t  know this person from Adam, but they did it and it was the best feeling. Something I wrote spoke to them. They owed me nothing. They don’t even know who I am. That’s often the thought that conflicts with the voice in my head. That when people bring up my writing they are doing it to be kind. Lately I’ve come to realise that mentioning it at all means something, surely if they didn’t like it, if it didn’t mean anything to them, they would keep quiet?

That’s the voice who needs to win this battle against the Imposter guy. 

I suppose it’s determined by who can shout louder on any given day.

For now, here is to blog 101. In all it’s determined glory!

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

The difference a day makes

Yesterday, after 4 hours of sleep, we forced ourselves out of the front door and into the car. The sun had been in the sky for less than 3 hours and it was shining brightly and extremely hot. Where we were heading called for little clothing but with the reward of being able to cool down.

Conversation was rapid fire as it often is with being over-tired and by the time we pulled into the car park we were raring to go.

As you may have gleaned from previous blogs I’m very uncomfortable in my own skin, hide my body away and this means I have not worn a swimming costume in the UK in over 23 years. Even abroad I’ve only worn one twice in the last 20 years. I usually wear a dress and roll down the straps. Or shorts and a t-shirt. Lately I’ve wanted to push myself to do things I’m scared of. So at 8am yesterday I took off my dress to reveal the swimming costume underneath and stepped onto the cool sand.

The tide was low but the water was cool. Not the gasp-inducing cool that takes your breath away, but the kind of cool that makes you say ‘ooo that’s nice’ and then venture on.

With a lot of slimy and slippery rocks in the water it was slow going and Mr W led me in one baby step at a time. The water felt amazing on my bare legs. Bare legs! Me!

The waves were gentle and before long we were thigh deep. We both agreed not being able to see the large rocks was disconcerting and took a moment to dip down in the water. I felt so free and happy. It was as if with each wave my fears were being cleansed away.

It helps that we were the only ones on the entire shoreline. I’m not naive to that exact fact. It was the reason we went so early. Crowded places, as you may have realised in ‘Panic at the concert’ (link below), are not something we take lightly. So if we can get up early enough to have a place to ourselves we will. It’s also wonderful to say you had a whole beach to yourself!

https://frameworktravel.home.blog/2022/07/16/panic-at-the-concert/

We watched the waves roll the sunlight about for a while longer and turned to walk back to our bags. My body carried itself lighter than ever before. It wasn’t hidden. And I wasn’t ready to cover up just yet.

Mr W took the bags up to the dryer part of the beach while I found a shallow pool of water. At first I sat in its depths feeling it cool my legs. I looked up and saw the odd dog walker on the cliffs. I chided myself for wanting to hide my body again. I splashed the water over myself to shut the thoughts up.

With a devil may care attitude I lay back in the pool and felt the water lap at my shoulders and neck. I knew that half the sandy beach would end up in my hair but I didn’t care. I was laying here, vulnerable and yet enjoying every second.

After 30 or so minutes the cool waters had reduced my skin to goosebumps and the warm sand was calling to me.

Standing up I slowly sauntered to the waiting beach towel. Arms by my side. Not folded. Shoulders back. Not hunched. Head up. Not face down.

I sat on the sand letting the morning sun dry my hair and warm me slowly. Mr W showed me the basics of flying his new drone and we smiled, laughed and talked of our impending trip to Scotland.

The anxiety of the night before felt a million miles away and I high-fived myself mentally. It sounds like such a small victory I know but imagine denying yourself the right to feel the sea on your skin without the cover of clothing for over 20 years.

Mr W and I are already looking for a less rocky beach to continue my carefree activities!

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

Panic at the concert

I used to work in Central London. Did you know that?

Monday to Friday, the Central Line at 7:30am, Holborn by 8:30am, navigating the streets of the city at rush hour. Squeezing myself into carriages on the way home, getting a seat maybe 5 stops from home. It was what I did. 

Something has changed. Whether it be covid or being out of the fray too long I’m really not sure. Since 2020 Mr W and I have actively avoided crowded places. It seemed logical in the beginning. Even in early 2021, it felt like the must-do action when living in a pandemic. As time wore on it became quite apparent that it was harder to integrate back into our old life. 

Or was it?

As you may have read in ‘Engaging moments’ (link below), my aversion to crowds has upset things before. Mr W’s proposal was meant to be in Rockefeller centre under the Christmas tree and yet before he could do the one-knee bend, I raced from the vicinity with a gusto I normally reserve for friendly dogs or rainbow chasing. The realisation of the crowd before me made my heart race and my palms sweat. Maybe if I had anticipated the mass of people I could have coped better. 

Engaging moments

Yesterday we went to Newmarket, dressed up pretty damn nicely, watched the horses, basked in the sun together and enjoyed every single minute. As the sun moved towards the horizon we made our way to the stage in the centre of the complex. Only four people deep in the crowd, the view of the stage was amazing. Forsaking the up front viewing of the last race we staked our claim for the next 2 and a half hours. Then my horse went and came 1st! Mr W moved away to grab my winnings while the crowds rolled in behind me. In a sea of people my nerves rolled in too. I held my ground as people jostled me, pushed past and generally looked past me. He was taking his time, the queues must have been long, and I soon started craning my neck to find him at the back of the swarm. 

After a few minutes I spotted him as he edged his way closer. Two particularly stubborn people ignored his polite ‘excuse me’s’ and I had to forsake our closer than close viewing spot and join him a few metres back. As soon as I took his hand. I felt calm. My breath returned to my chest.

10 minutes later The Script lit up the night. Live music, is there anything else more invigorating? As they played to the crowd the old feelings for music crept back. Music does not have the same place in my heart as it once did and I vowed there and then to listen to more. The crowd was full of energy and the festival vibe was definitely in the air. 40 or so minutes in, the band made their way into the fray and walked straight past me. It was exhilarating to be up close and personal to the band I have loved for 14 years. 

As they walked past and away the crowd let them through and then closed ranks. The jostling took an unexpected turn and I felt myself clamp down on Mr W’s hands. Something had sparked inside me and it took me a moment to calm down. The band played two songs at the rear of the enclosure and we took solace in the calmness at the new back of the crowd. And then they returned, it was a treat that they came back our way, but this time my body stalled in panic. The jostling would return. And it did but prepared for it I felt okay. 

The band continued their amazing set and the crowd went into hyperdrive. The setting sun cast an amber glow over the scene and I sang my heart out. Two of my favourite songs made tears spring from my eyes and Mr W took the camera owing to my need to dance along. 

In the moving crowd Mr W had gone from next to me to behind me. I was not complaining at 6ft tall he towers over me and with his arms at my side I felt the deepest sense of protection. As night fell so did the behaviour of the crowd and security had to rush into the mob as people became rowdier and frantic. A couple next to me were staggering on the spot, their elbows digging into my body but it was okay, his arms were around me. 

From somewhere behind I heard ‘Oh don’t you just have the best shoulders.’ and then Mr W’s muffled voice returned the conversation. My head whipped round to find a slurring woman engaging with the compliment. I am not a stranger to Mr W getting compliments, he is an extremely handsome man, a damn right silver fox and yes his shoulders and arms are incredible. It was four years ago that we went to an extremely young club to celebrate a family’s birthday. At 30 years old I was years older than the teeny boppers in situ and at 8 years older than me (you do the maths) Mr W was definitely noticing a change since his last time in a similar venue. As we sipped our drinks by the bar he made a comment to me like ‘my god I feel old’, I smiled and carried on my chatter. From behind me an arm reached over my shoulder, patted him on the chest and shouted ‘you ain’t old’ in a twee girlish voice. I remember whipping my head round then to see what can only be described as a foetus in a plaid dress making doe eyes at my soon to be husband. In disbelief I laughed as the awkwardness set in on Mr W’s face. I felt the same last night. Turning around the woman was complimenting his shoulders and how he must be a swimmer and how lovely it was to see him protecting his wife. I smiled and uttered the taboo words of ‘I get really anxious’. 

Well the flood gates of her mouth opened as she announced that she worked in the NHS, saw anxiety all the time in her job and how she would tell people to ‘fuck off’ out my way if I needed her to. The truth was, her talking to me, drunk, had set my anxiety off worse than ever. I can’t do small talk and drunk people are a massive trigger for me. I nodded along and eventually passed the conversation over to my husband. He took it in his stride and entertained her for 10 minutes. I danced along to the music as best as I could while he squeezed my arms with our secret code of ‘omg what have we got ourselves into’. Asking me what my name was, the lady gave me a massive hug, a kiss on the cheek and danced off into the night. 

And then everything changed. All of a sudden his arms clamped around me and pulled me back. A fight had broken out just in front of us and 5 or 6 security guards had rushed in. The crowd had responded by backing up and into people. People being me. Before I even knew what had happened I had been pulled out of the melee and held tightly. I turned to ask what was going on and my anxiety sky-rocketed. I felt my hands start to shake. The music thudded through my chest and my heart met it with competitive beats. Holding up my phone for a photo I saw the screen shaking. I was losing it and the tears on my cheeks knew it. I put my hands on his hands on my waist and listened to the music. I sang as my heart rate slowed. Their final song came to an end and I cried for the beautiful night, the experience and the feelings of loss. Where was the brave person I once knew? 

As the crowd dispersed, a woman approached me and told me about a quicker exit from the area if I needed it. It was a beautiful gesture and I thanked her profusely. There needs to be more people like her. However, and this isn’t a bad thing, it only made me more aware than ever about how my problem has gotten worse. I stood for a moment enveloped in my husband’s arms and melted. I do not want to be like this. He held me and said he would never let anything happen to me. Ever. And I just stood there. Wondering how he could possibly stop the anxiety and the panic. And yet I knew he couldn’t. He would hold my hand, guiding me through, sometimes backwards but mostly forwards. And at my pace. Whether it made sense or not.

After a slow walk to the car, I felt my equilibrium return and decided to turn the ‘ordeal’ of the evening in my favour. The band was amazing. Mr W had finally seen them live with me. The night air was warm and calm. My new dress fit the bill. And I hadn’t walked away. This wasn’t Rockefeller Centre. This was louder, more frantic and yet I stayed. I could have left but I didn’t. It is a win. However small the victory seems. 

Be kind to yourself. Don’t hide away something that is a part of you. It is a part of you. Not all of you.

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com 

Taking flight

Spontaneity is a dream of mine that never really has a chance to happen. Whether it be money, anxiety or time it always falls by the wayside. 

When visiting Australia in 2013 I picked up a guide to Melbourne at the airport and found several vouchers offering 10% off here and a free gift there. I’ve never really seen the point in free vouchers because they often have a read between the lines agreement. However one stood out to me and we had kept at least half a day free in each place so we could explore. The 2 for 1 voucher was for a Yarra river cruise and I was excited to see the city from the water. I do love boats!

I had already looked into the cruises from home but they didn’t really appeal. Maybe it was the fact it took us off our feet and yet we would still see the city. At $29 for both of us it wasn’t something to sniff at. The boat ride wouldn’t take long and it looked like a great way to while away a few hours. After a pleasant tour down river we docked at Gem Pier in Williamstown; a quaint little village which used to be Melbourne’s main port before its size couldn’t cope with the intake. With a short time to kill we headed into the main street until an enticing sign caught our eye.

Next thing I know we are onboard a four seater seaplane flying over the beaches of St Kilda and Port Phillip. There seemed to be a devil may care attitude on our second day in Australia and the short trip cost us $145 each. Brighton beach had amazingly colourful beach huts which took me back to the seaside boltholes we had back in the UK. Similarly to home, these cost a huge amount of money, some at $400,000!  The views were stunning and the pilot was a hoot. His name was Rodney and I was reminded of the nickname my dad had given Mr W the first time he had met him.  We saw our hotel from the air and the Melbourne Gran Prix track was pointed out. The budget was tight and I knew I’d be on rations for a while but wearing a headset to talk to each other while in flight was brilliant and when the plane turned on its side I felt my cares melt away. The short 10 minute flight was over so fast and soon enough the plane was bumping over the rolling waves. All smiles we walked back into Williamstown and grabbed a quick fish and chip lunch. We sat in a pavilion to avoid the sea birds and took in the scene. 

It is a moment that wasn’t marred by anxiety or questioning. I think of it fondly when I see a plane in the sky and when I see waves lapping against a shore. A moment long ago that gives me promise for spontaneous times ahead. Over and out.  

Feel the fear

I GOT IN THE POOL!

It was cloudy and windy but I got in the pool! I managed 40 minutes before I got bored and got out. I am well chuffed! The sun came out for about 5 minutes but it felt so great to cool down. I even laid down. The pool is just big enough for me to lie down diagonally. My body cooled right down and I didn’t feel the heat of the day for several hours. So that has made my week! Tomorrow we are going to be hunting for the puncture, so let’s hope we find it.

Mr W and I have spent the last two nights catching up on some of our Youtube favourites. We literally watch one profile and are addicted. I’m popping the link below to their profile, but I’m also adding the link to their vlog of when they visited the Morocco Animal Aid shelter. It’s a difficult watch if you are an animal lover and yet lovely at the same time. By using their platform Craig and Amiee raised EUR8000 in a week for the shelter and I think that is just phenomenal! And Aimee is right, volunteering really makes a difference. It might not change the world, but you could change the world for another being on this planet and I think that is a win-win situation. 

https://www.youtube.com/c/kingingit365

Craig and Aimee travel the world and basically vlog about it so we at home can sit in quiet jealousy. They show the gritty, glamorous and funny sides of travel and watching them always puts a smile on my face. 

Something Aimee said on the vlog we watched tonight was, ‘Feel the fear and do it anyway.’ Which made me realise that the less time I spend planning for the NC500 the more time fear has to creep into my mind. And the fear is getting bigger as the planning comes to a very close end. My anxiety over the big trip is definitely creeping in. There are a few challenges I have set myself, and Mr W, that I am cacking my pants over.

So, I thought I’d share them with you! It’s about time you get to hear about some of the trip. Not a lot, just a few bits and you get to read about it while we are on the road. Yes, that’s right, as well as all of our daily activities I’ll be writing everyday. I set myself a challenge to write every day for a year and as this is consecutive blog number 91 I dont think its going too badly. So if you want to check out how the NC500 treats us head on over to this blog’s main page and subscribe! It’s not long now.

I’ve even got the link for you here:

https://frameworktravel.home.blog/

I’m going to keep this bit pretty straight forward. 

Cold water and wild swimming – 

If I have learned anything in recent years, I cannot stand the heat. I used to do so well when going to places like the Caribbean, Egypt and Spain, but something about being in the UK and its heat waves with no way of cooling myself down has made me fall out of love with it big time. This is why I have tried to think outside the box to keep cool. I have stared at the fishing lake near our house and dreamed of how fresh it would feel on my skin. And yet the crowds and the fact it is not for swimming is a big deterrent. Other places are obviously more suitable. When we went to Northumberland for the first time in August 2021, I came face to face with an absolutely stunning waterfall, Crammel Linn, (blog link below) and instantly regretted not wearing my swimming costume. We were totally alone and I wanted to jump right in. 

There were several waterfalls in Australia that I could have swam in and my anxiety stopped me. It is something I regret even now. 9 years of regret!

I didn’t jump into the waters of Crammel Linn, I honestly could not see a safe way into the water from the river bank and decided on that day that when the next opportunity arose I’d do it. Since then we have been to other waterfalls in Northumberland and it’s not happened. I kind of feel that I’m waiting for Scotland. It feels to me like more of an adventure holiday. 

The fear is definitely creeping in and I’m yet to sort out one which ones are safe out of the very many we are visiting but I think doing my research will definitely help me conquer the anxiety. Some of the waterfalls I think will be okay are the Fairy pools in the Isle of Skye and Plodda Falls near Inverness.

There’s also the absolutely freezing waters of the North sea and the Hebrides Sea Shelf to contend with. We’ll have so many chances to swim in the sea along the way. On the east coast there is Chanonry Point and the area surrounding the Tarbat Ness Lighthouse. And on the west there is Red Point beach, Talisker Bay beach and the very wild Sandwood Bay. Sandwood Bay is a 8 mile round trip hike that we are hoping to pull off in the first week of our trip. It is said to be completely untouched due to how off the beaten track it is. Although if anyone fancies building a temporary beach bar on the day we arrive, that would be fab! My anxiety here is just how cold it’ll be but I think that’s the novelty of it all, so there is definitely less anxiety about that part. 

Feeling the fear a bit on this one but absolutely planning to do it anyway. 

A hop, skip and a fracture.

BIG hikes – 

Mr W and I have definitely been doing more big walks in the last year. Owing to the fact we aren’t quite ready to travel abroad just yet, (thanks covid, price rises and chaos at airports) we are checking out the UK like never before. And a lot of things in the UK require walking. A lot of walking. It would be quite simple to head to the coast and walk along a promenade with an ice cream but crowds at the moment are a hard challenge for me. Covid has definitely presented my anxiety with some hurdles. Mr W just doesn’t like people. I joke. Sort of. Mostly. 

When we went to Northumberland, we tackled some pretty amazing hikes which pushed our lockdown frozen limbs to wake up. The fact that we started, finished and enjoyed this all new experience was simply amazing and it’s definitely a bug that we have caught and continued to profess our love for. With that in mind we are tackling some pretty hefty walks on this trip and even though I know we are determined and stubborn enough to do them, I’m quite unsure on just how much our bodies are going to take. We will be travelling every single day of the 15 day trip. From dawn till dusk we’ll be exploring, driving, walking and at some points scrambling. I’m starting to wonder just how many days in it’ll be that the fatigue finds us. We have one day where a train will take over the work of our feet and it’ll feel more like a vacation and quite frankly a day to repair. And then there are other days when it’s going to be hard. There are two walks in particular that stand out to me. I point blank refuse to delete them from the trip, but the anxiety is becoming real. 

The Sandwood Bay walk isn’t necessarily hard, it is just long! 4 miles out and 4 miles back. There are sandy areas which means my ankles will take a battering and the weather could potentially play havoc. If the weather in Scotland is anything similar to Northumberland, we could have wind, rain, blinding sunshine and muggy weather all in one day. It worries me that it could drain us of the little energy reserve we will have. The only thing getting me through this stage of anxiety is repeating to myself constantly: ‘you can’t control the weather’. I just have to prepare for it. Personally I believe I could change my middle name to organised and no one would question it. 

Another challenge is our very last walk of the trip. The Catbells walk in the Lake District. It is 3-4 hours of moderate hiking. So it is nowhere near as long as the other walk, but it is taking us to heights of 1481 feet and this is something I have never done. Nothing I’ve done comes close. Eep! I chose it because it interested me the most out of all the hikes in the area but still, this is a biggy. I’m trying to remind myself that if I try to live up to someone else’s pace I’ve already lost. I have to go at my speed, my ability and live for me. Who knows where we’ll be heading next year. This might be one of our last hikes for a while. Maybe, just maybe, that’ll make it that much more special. 

There we have it. A small insight into our trip and a big insight into the anxieties travelling can present. I do know that just trying to do these walks and swims will give me a boost rather than regret at not. I know that the feeling at the end of these experiences will heavily outweigh the fear I feel at the beginning. Maybe fear is the untapped resource we should all tap into once in a while. 

Limits

It is day 876,352 of having Covid. 

Really, in actual fact, it is day 5 of testing positive. My life hasn’t changed apart from missing one day of work and allowing myself to watch as much tv as possible until my body needs sleep. Today has been a busy day considering that on Saturday I slept for over 20 hours. I woke up and no longer felt the fatigue in my bones. So I grabbed the laptop and started ploughing through the to-do list for our next big trip. 

To be fair it is a small list at this point, but two hours in and one of the days on the trip had transformed completely. Out of the 14 mornings while we are away, most of them start before 7:30am. In fact, most start at 6am. Paint me shocked. Tell the girl from 10 years ago who’s days usually started at lunchtime. Mr W has definitely had an impact. 

The plans I looked at today were busy enough to have us doing three big hikes starting at 6am. There’s maybe one day when we need to start at 5am to drive for two hours to witness the sunrise and I don’t mind it as a one off, but there are certain limitations when it comes to the body. Hell, in January, after a fortnight of deep research and planning for this trip, my limit light was blinking and my brain shut down! So, doing an endless fortnight of 14 hour days of photography, walking, driving and battling all the elements is going to be exhausting. So, when I found myself cutting parts out of the day in question, I was pleasantly surprised at how calm I was. When it comes to travelling I rarely know my limits. I will be up and ready for a long day and I will never go back to a hotel without completing an itinerary. It’s how I’m built. 

Or at least how I thought I was built. Today’s cut, pastes and deletes were owed to something new I found to do near Ben Nevis, a place which opens a lot later than the rest of Scotland. This caused a shift in the day’s plans and meant taking two things off the agenda. It made me choose between events rather than force myself to do everything. In light of these changes, I realised that we would be too late to another event and with a quick ‘delete’ and an ‘Oh well’ I made the necessary adjustments. This is not me!

Also, I know how frustrating it might be for me to sound so vague, but I really want my first experience of telling you about our trip to Scotland to sound fresh, so keeping details back as much as possible is really important. Stay tuned!

It’s not that I haven’t had limits before, I have, I’ve dragged my arse across Australia feeling tired up to my eyeballs. I’ve forced my feet up and down the avenues of New York because the itinerary calls for it. My limits are screaming at me like warning bells and I hear them, I just pretend I don’t.

It’s only since travelling in this country and the changes that lockdown brought about that the voice inside my head with all warnings about limits has started to make sense. In our personal lives we’ve even started to block out weekends so we can be at home, together, with nothing else to do. Inevitably, when I get a message asking if I’m free on those blocked out days, I will feel awful about saying we aren’t available because I’m a 1000% committed people pleaser. Being a people pleaser has ultimately stopped me looking after myself in situations and in turn neglecting Mr W. His limits are often dictated by my own. And that is not fair. Saying no to people is a crushing feeling. Especially as I never have. There’s a mass of guilt that swarms over me everytime I do. And that in particular is something I have to work on.

It just so happens that the weekend just past was blocked out. We needed to do this so we could spend some much needed time in the house we pay a mortgage for because June saw us come and go like passengers at a railway station. And then we got covid and were home anyway. Maybe fete stepped in and missed the memo.

During lockdown we found it hard at first to sit still, but as the weeks dragged on we found comfort in these walls. And as the world began to open up, we found ourselves dreading going backwards into the fray of events. It’s a complicated feeling. It isn’t the events that are the problem. It’s the sheer number of them. It’s knowing your limits. There came a time where we’d be seeing people for brunch on a Saturday morning, after a heavy night out the Friday, running a quick errand before seeing family on the Saturday afternoon and then heading out that night. Repeating ourselves on Sunday. Time flew and it felt difficult to enjoy it. How could we be in the moment, when we were thinking of where we had to race off to next?

When lockdown ended in July 2020, I particularly found it difficult to return to normal. To hug again, close the window and enter the crowds. An afternoon with friends was beautiful and yet saw me sleeping after the exposure to filled hours. Since we’ve put a curb on our weekends, we feel lighter and have to remind ourselves that doing things on other weekends shouldn’t be classed as ‘busy’ but ‘enjoyable’ instead. Yes, we still get rather busy, but it isn’t work, it is socialising. It’s freedom. It’s life. 

For the first time in my life, I’m appreciating the limits before they appear. I realise now that the fear of limiting your life, your time, yourself is very real. Push just a bit harder. Strive for more. You can do it. However there is a very large part of life that calls for boundaries and the ability to say no. It is self preservation. It is knowing that no matter how hard you try, keeping the pace is not always possible. Saying no every once in a while has to be a good thing. Choosing to stop instead of being forced to stop is always going to be win-win. Lockdown taught us that. And for that I am grateful.  

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

One piece at a time

STOP placing your sense of self worth in other people’s hands. 

I saw something online during the pandemic that completely resonated with me and yet has taken me this long to fully incorporate into my life. It was a simple phrase. At first I thought it sounded quite bitter. Something a narcissist would say. However, as time has gone on and I’ve recalled it in times of sadness or doubt, it’s helped me look after myself and my own. My little circle of people. The people I take a picture of my garden for. The ones I let know that I’ve arrived at my destination in one piece. A funny memory that has popped into my head. A joke I’ve heard. Good news or bad news. 

‘It’s funny, when you quit texting first, you realise who was putting in all the effort.’ 

Let that marinade for a while. 

Are there people in your life whom, if you didn’t reach out first, you’d ever hear from? It is a scary thought and truth be told I wouldn’t necessarily stop reaching out to people to test them. They’re not lab rats and there are always plenty of situations that cause us to be flakey and forget other people for a little while. 

I’m talking about the ones who hurt your heart. The people who you try and try with and still get nowhere. Each time you may approach it differently. Wonder if you’ve done something wrong when you are ignored or cut short. Wonder if that is just how they are and why you’d want to be around it in the first place. When you see it happening to a loved one, who builds up such an image in mind of a yearned for relationship, only to have it crash around them you naturally want to help. You step in and try to play the matchmaker only to find the same attitude directed your way. It’s heart wrenching. 

Only today I encountered something similar. And then snap. The missing puzzle piece snaps into place. The picture is complete. All the edges have aligned. And yet the image is foggy, blurry and confusing. No more trying for people who don’t want to be involved, no more hoping they’ll say yes this time and no more excuses. It’s time for a clearer picture. 

I believe it’s age or experience that has made me sit up straight and swear to myself that the no bullshit approach is the one for me. Remember, the ‘he’s just not that into you movement’? The guy takes the girl on a date, says he’ll call and never does. Then the girl’s friends all swarm around with speeches about how ‘of course he likes you, he’s just busy’ and ‘he’ll call any day now’ or ‘maybe you’re just too pretty for him.’ I mean, how crazy can it be to be honest, he’s not calling, because he does not want to. And the same goes for friends. The same goes for family. 

It is not easy to be blunt. It’s often misconstrued as being a horrible person when you are. I’ve only ever done it once. To my beautiful friend who juggles her dating life with more than a little fear and trepidation. I’ve seen her confused, angry and hurt more than a dozen times in as many years and seeing her hurt more than enough times has led me down the path that leads to Blunt-town. And the truth is, it isn’t an attack on her. It’s an attack on babying her. And leading her to more heartache. 

The truth is, when dating, we build up a mock up of what we want a date to be. Then we build up a mock up of how the next one will go. And soon enough a whole relationship is plotted in our minds because it’s only natural to do so. The fact is, you create for you, to suit you, the other person has their own image and future puzzle pieces. You might have them cut out to fit into your picture, but you might not be in theirs. Maybe you’re sitting in a temporary pile waiting to be picked up. Or maybe discarded. It’s sad when you build up an image in your head only to have it ripped up. 

However, how can this be the other person’s fault? Unless you rolled out the image, pointed at the gap where they fit, and say, so what do you think? I’m unsure as to how they would know what is expected. I’ve been in that situation, I put my heart out there, he watched it jump out of my chest and took a further 3 months of my life to give me it back. It was bruised, exhausted and shaken when I put it back in my chest but if I had been honest I knew when he didn’t nurture it from the start that I could have saved myself a lot of grief. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. 

There is a limit to how many times we can build a picture of expectations up before it lays in tatters and we question why we aren’t good enough. Why don’t they want us? I wish I could reach through this screen and comfort you. Because you are enough. You do not need to chase the people who aren’t chasing you. You need to let go of those expectations. Focus on the puzzle pieces that fit into your life by choice. Not by hammering them in with a closed fist and telling yourself it works. It ruins the beautiful aesthetic of your life. Do you one of the most beautiful things that can happen when you stop chasing, you get messages and calls and they light up your day. Ring ring, this person is thinking about you. Ring ring, answer please, they want to talk to you. Ring ring, you matter. Ring ring, you’re enough. 

Playing devil’s advocate is a long running role for me. I’ll always try and look at things in a multitude of ways just to cover all the bases. But there’s an endgame when it comes to matters of the mind and heart. If your mind is racing through scenarios of why and what if and you can sleep at the end of it. Have at it. But if at the end of the race, you’ve found no consoling scenario, your night was sleepless, your tears are streaming and your heart hurts. You are the only puzzle piece that takes precedent. You are wonderful and you deserve everything because you are enough. Take a step back and realise not everyone thinks the same as you. Not everyone has the same image, picture, puzzle or expectation. We are all built differently. Some of us are laid back, easy going, like those wooden puzzle pieces with the plastic pins that fit into the wooden board. Some of us are intricate, with 2000 quirks and stories. You get the 3-d puzzles that just won’t cooperate. The double-sided dilemmas. And the box with the missing pieces. 

You can’t control the outcome. You can only control how you handle your expectations. The beauty is that unlike a puzzle, life is an ever changing picture. You don’t have control over it and the truth is if you did it wouldn’t be as beautiful. It would be forced. The picture is there waiting. We just haven’t seen it all yet. But piece by piece, one at a time, it’ll all fall into place.    

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

Refreshing thoughts

Good things come to those who wait right?

On our third visit to Northumberland and second try at reaching an art installation in Kielder Forest we failed. It is not a word I like to use. Especially when I am the one making the plans. The first time we tried to reach the Janus chairs we were completely unprepared. Trying to find a map online that details the distance between car parks and each art installation was one of the hardest things as preparation. When we attempted the walk last year (2021) it became pretty clear that we had gone the wrong way and after an hour of walking at 4pm we did not have the time needed to get where we needed to be. We realised it would be a 4 hour walk each way from the Bakethin car park to reach the installation and we would need a return trip. Fast forward to June 2022 and we were game to try again. We started with all good intentions. Taking photos of the maps provided at the car parks and grabbing a hand held map from the Visitor Centre at Leaplish water park we felt more informed than ever. 

Starting late was our first hurdle, we spent a lazy hour at our accommodation after a luxurious lunch and dragged out tired arses to Bakethin Car Park. It was the second hurdle that decided our path would end. The car park instructions on tickets left us confused and with only an hour to make an eight hour hike. Nope!

One of the most important things about our trips to Northumberland is how it has affected my ability to let go. When planning a trip I will plan everything down to the minute, but unusually I haven’t been able to do it with Kielder. When something doesn’t go according to plan I feel like a failure and this time I didn’t. It was like I could enjoy the hour we did take a walk and adjust my thoughts on the matter. It helps that Mr W said ‘Oh well, we’ll just have to come back’ and god is that an idea! Returning to a place for a fourth time. What is happening to us? 

Walking along a very hidden trail aside the reservoir feeling the sun kissing my skin and the wind teasing my hair I felt happy, not frustrated. We walked for 30 minutes until we had to retread our steps and return to the ticking clock of the car park ticket.

As we neared the final leg of the journey we came to the viaduct that crosses the reservoir. Its high and large stone walls give views down into the almost black water and to the treetops. Each time I cross it I find it harder to ignore the pull of the view. It would be fruitless to try. Like a moth to a flame, I am drawn to water and the sun’s reflection upon it.  

As the tunnel of trees opened up to the viaduct, we saw that there were rain clouds sweeping in from the horizon and paused to watch them dance. In moments a fine but angry wall of water hit us. We marched ahead into the next shelter of trees. I love how the scenes in Northumberland National Park can change so quickly and dramatically. 

Ten or so metres into the shelter I turned back and watched the scene as it was framed by trees and stone. I applauded myself for not  freaking out about the change in plans and started mentally planning for our return. Leaving something behind as the rain turned it into something new for our return. 

Blocked

I am sitting here frustrated. 

I can’t write. I’m wondering why. I am hitting the keys of my lovely laptop with such vigour Mr W is occasionally looking at me. I know he wants to calmly tell me to go easy. This is frustrating. So frustrating I am allowing the laptop to pick up the errors in my typing rather than sort them myself. I’m usually a good touch typist. I owe that to years of staying up late on MSN Messenger with my friends during my school years. 

I absolutely detest writer’s block. My last two blogs have come from my archive of past writings. It has been a busy month I’ll admit but when I’m stuck I’ll look to life as I know it or past trips and away I go. But today – nada!

Maybe today’s shopping experience has left a sour taste in my mouth and brain. I’d like to share with you one tidbit. Maybe you won’t have heard of it. Maybe it’s something you’ll relate to. Not ALL girls like shopping. I for one will find one staple and buy it in every colour rather than tour around a shopping hall. And I have. During my twenties I had every colour of one particular jumper going. And when the shop changed that jumper’s design I felt attacked! How very dare they. 

When I worked in London, the story was very similar, I would wear one staple dress in various colours, leggings and a jacket or cardigan to suit. I was a slave to Primark and its easy wear items. 

These days, I wear the same two pairs of jeans and choose from my faithful 6-7 tops out of a sea of clothing in my wardrobe. I will occasionally buy a dress for a wedding or a party and it’s the only time I take care in what I’m wearing. I suspect this is because there are other people around and I want to make sure I’m looking the part. Which part that is I’m not sure. Wedding guest. Cousins 30th attendee. Engagement celebrator extraordinaire. 

Last year, I did something completely out of character and bought a vivid yellow casual dress. Did I like it? Yes, enough to buy it. Do I like it now? Completely and unfathomably, I have no idea. It fits, it doesn’t need ironing (always a bonus) however I’ve come to the realisation I don’t even know what my style is.  

If you’re a returning reader you’ll know I’m a big girl. If you’re a first time guest, I’m a big girl. Small in stature. Curvy round the middle. It’s caused by emotional eating (hello poor mental health) and my life long struggle turned-fight with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. So growing up it didn’t really matter what I liked the look of in the shops, it wouldn’t fit anyway. And therein started the problem. Why try and find a style that didn’t cater for the plus size teenager?

Things are a lot better now for plus size peeps. You’ll find a lot online and have it delivered right to your door! Isn’t that swell! But… What if we want to venture out into the world and shop til we drop? To spend money on clothes instead of bills. To bring home pretty things after a long day with friends, shopping, chatting and enjoying it all. 

The last few days, Mr W has tried to push me, ever so gently, into buying new clothes. The vivid yellow dress is the one outfit I can wear without bursting into flames in the recent heatwave. While at home I am the queen of pyjamas and most recently a comfy jogging bottom. Which is fine when you have a fan whirring alongside you but out in the fanless real world, I need some clothes. I had a snoop around online and found a few dresses I liked the look of but I want to see them in person! I hate not being able to feel the fabric and check the length. I ordered a pair of trousers recently and they were definitely not designed for my 5’5 height. I think maybe a height of 6’5 would have worked well. I pulled them up to my bra and went on my merry way. 

Lesson learned.

Tonight, we headed out into the dreaded unknown to find the dresses I’d seen online. Only to find, on arrival, that the store was closed. Disappointed we spent the next hour scouring the shops for anything bigger than a UK size 16 and came away entirely empty handed. Oh wait, tell a lie I got some day cream, body scrub and bin bags! Wahey! 

It’s only now I truly understand that the highstreet does not cater to anyone above a size 16, who does not want gaudy prints or shapeless sacks to wear. What is interesting about this little conundrum is how the UK’s average dress size is a 16. And yet in all shops but 3 today the biggest size they stocked WAS a 16. I’m inclined to think that the only place my money is any good is online. I’ve heard this so many times on the ‘Go Love Yourself’ podcast (link below) but not yet realised it for myself. All this time I thought I was being picky or not knowing my own style but I’ve come to realise today that I’ve grown up not being given a chance to experience clothing like others. 

And that is a very sad situation.

I can hear a few people, there in my head, saying why not lose weight so you can fit into the high street clothes? And the simple answer is, why? Well, and how. My PCOS doesn’t like me thin, in fact it likes to add to my weight whenever it feels prudent to. And there are other women AND men out there who are big for a variety of physical and mental health reasons too. And even if they aren’t big for those reasons, it’s their life, their choice and is their money not good enough?

I came away today deflated, defeated and crying. It’s hard to feel good without being able to project that through clothing. It’s a form of expression. It’s hard to come to the realisation that when it comes to style I have been stifled. As other people have. I assume this is the same for people who don’t fit the ‘normal’ range of heights too. Something has to change. 

Well, would you look at that the writer’s blockage has come unstuck. Now if only the block in shops could be removed too!

Go Love Yourself