This week a couple of famous people have passed away. I’m not that sad. I get why other people are sad, because we associate certain images, and sounds, and films, and speeches, and etc, with all kinds of important moments in our lives. Then, when the person who helped create that moment, or who brought it back to life for you each time you replayed that bit of media, dies, it feels like something has happened to that memory.
So I get it.
But then there are also a bunch of people who are sad for the sake of being sad. Someone everyone knows about died, and that’s a reason to get angry with the world. They were “taken too young”, or “the world is a little darker now”. Be real. No it’s not. You’re just creating melodrama, and I am absolutely positive that is the last thing in the world that those people would want. They were just people after all.
“Yeah” I hear you say (with your wheedly little voice of melodrama), “but they did amazing things”.
Well fine. They did. They were part of something special, because of their own unique gifts. But that’s something to be celebrated, not mourned. Don’t be sad that they are gone, be glad that they were ever here, born into a world where they could do the great things that they did. Take a leaf out of their book. Be ready to do something extraordinary, because that’s all they were. Normal humans who went ahead and did their own brand of extraordinary thing. That’s why we’ll remember them.
Today I had my final exam for my MA. My (unconfirmed) grade is a pass, with distinction. Naturally I’m over the moon, and have celebrated by watching subbed German and sleeping. It’s a rock ‘n’ roll life.
I didn’t write a dedication in my thesis because I find them a bit odd, but now that I know it wasn’t a complete waste of time and money I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my family, for giving me unreasonably high standards to meet, my friends, for helping me remember I don’t actually need to meet them to be an acceptable person, boyfriend (who bought me theatre tickets as a reward because he knows me well), all of my bizarre and wonderful colleagues, and 2/3 of my supervisory team.
And now, I’ve taken my course-related books back to the library (sad, given I’ve had a few for the last 28 months, and no-one else is going to read them for ages) and am excited that after years of feeling like I shouldn’t read other things, I can finally read normal books. The current list stands at:
– Moriarty by Anthony Horowitz
– Yes Please by Amy Poehler
– Libya; The History of Gaddafi’s Pariah State by John Oakes
– All of the remaining Terry Pratchett books (I’ve read as far as “The Truth”)
– Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
– Borderlands/La Frontera by Gloria Anzaldúa (because I really didn’t pay attention the first time)
Back in about 10 years (or 10 minutes) when I’m finished.
You know the phrase “you always want what you can’t have”? I’m not sure it’s true. I think mostly I want what I can have, I just don’t have it and that’s why I want it.
But then, I should probably just curb my degree of “want”. I’m in such a lucky position to be able to feel like I want things rather than need them. There’s an element of counting blessings here, but aside from that, I think it’s really valuable sometimes to give yourself a bit of perspective.
Here are some things I want:
– Dinner
– To be fit and healthy (and mayyybeee a bit thinner. Jillian is back on the scene)
– World Peace (just sneak that in there. You’re considered a bad person if you don’t)
– Chocolate
– More friends
– More money
– More time
– A life-size cutout of Clark Gregg as Agent Coulson
– A top grade on my Masters (and maybe a publication offer, with no amendments)
– A dog
– A cup of tea
Fairly comprehensive list, probably.
Now, there’s nothing wrong with wanting any of those things, but it’s also good to take a step back and think about how many things aren’t on that list. Sometimes it feels like life is giving you lemons, but a good friend once told me that if life gives you lemons, you should make some kind of awful cheese-lemon-smoothie. That friend doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and this post is rapidly running away with itself in terms of well-known phrases.
BASICALLY, what I think I’m saying is that at this time of year lots of people (myself included) get bogged down by all the things that they want, so just take a second to think about all the things you already have, and appreciate how great your life probably is, and then consider not wanting health and also chocolate (or consider working out how to get them both, which is the next step, and also the dream).
Hang on wait, that’s a lie. New year, exactly the same old me.
I’m really bad at new years’ resolutions. I think mostly because I don’t really like celebrating arbitrary things, but also because a lot of new years’ resolutions are stupid and I give up quickly because I’m flaky like that.
This new year was different as well, because for the first time I came into it not really knowing what the year had in store for me. I’ve spent the last 20 years of my life in education, contemplating the next essay deadline or exam, and now for the first time that’s not what dictates my life (well, it is, because I work at a Students’ Union. Except it’s not my exams, it’s other peoples. But this is all semantics, back to the point). So what will happen this year? What is there to look forward to, or dread, or aspire to?
No idea.
So no new years resolutions for me, no “things I’ll achieve in 2016”, none of this. Great to have aims and all, but I think this year I’ll just try and live my life a bit, and then come up with some ideas in like, May? I think that’ll work.
Following on from yesterday’s post, here’s a controversial (ish) post which I’ve been wanting to put together for a while, and haven’t because of various reasons.
So first, a disclaimer and a warning. This post isn’t about mental health. Or rather it is, but it’s going to be more overarching than some people might see that term to mean, and probably will cover less about mental health than many people might feel it should. Here’s the thing though, I’m not an expert in this, it’s just a perspective of a single person. If you think I’m wrong then by all means tell me, but tell me bearing the above in mind.
Now then. Recently, I feel like I’ve seen a lot of this about:
I’m using this because it’s been shared around, but all credit to the original creator, whoever they may be.
Or seen articles like this one listing “31 secrets of people living with anxiety”. These things are great, because they are removing the stigma around mental health issues, and allowing people to feel like they can talk about themselves frankly and learn to access the help they need.
But…
They are trivialising and normalising a serious illness. These things are popping up more and more often, and I don’t speculate about the mental state of people who are posting them, but I do think it’s likely that at least a few of them just had a bad day. I think that alongside the very positive culture of talking, sharing, and helping, there’s another culture emerging – a culture of hiding behind the barrier of poor mental health.
Your well-being, physical, mental and emotional, is important. Never doubt that. It’s also important to know yourself, and somewhere along the path of lets-talk-about-mental-illness we’ve fallen into the trap of not talking about not-mental-illness-just-how-you-cope-with-bad-stuff. That’s a complicated thing, because really, teaching mental fortitude is tough. However, it is vital, and here’s why.
Sometimes, people have bad days and get sad. Sometimes, people get sad for no real reason at all, or for reasons they can’t define. A certain proportion of the time, those people have a medical condition which they can’t break free from, but often, people are just sad. And that’s fine. We don’t give ourselves room to be sad any more, because if you’re sad for no reason, current society is saying that there’s something wrong with you, and that’s a something which can’t be fixed just by “trying harder to be happy”. Which entirely holds true for depression, but really doesn’t for sadness. We cure it by seeking the acceptance of our sadness in others, maybe by sharing the kind of things I mentioned above – by looking for an acknowledgement that the sadness is normal, and therefore ok.
But the thing is, depression isn’t normal. And it’s not ok. Which is not to say that it’s unacceptable, or weird, or whatever. But it is an illness, and it’s not the same as just being a bit down. When you’re a bit down, it is fine, and right, to try and make yourself happy, rather than wallowing in your sadness. A lot of the time, taking a moment to make a cup of tea, count your blessings, and listen to a bit of your favourite music (or whatever your thing is) does help. There’s a comic which goes round from time to time which is a great explanation of why telling people with depression to just “try harder” is crazy. I’ve reworked it (you’re welcome) to illustrate my point.
So I suppose what I’m saying is, we need to talk about mental health, but we also need to recognise that for many people, mental well-being is fully within our grasp. We shouldn’t deny ourselves the right to be happy, just because we’re too busy convincing ourselves that we’re depressed, and therefore can’t work our way towards happiness. And we shouldn’t deny ourselves the right to be sad, and the ability to feel sadness while fully believing that happy days will come again.
I “get” how they work. Things happen, and your brain has a reaction to the things, and then your brain and/or body manifest that reaction, and then that’s emotions. I think I’m just bad at them. I get very excited about tiny funny things, or fixate on one specific plan that I have an overwhelming hope will be the best way to spend my day. And sometimes I get sad, and I think sad is the emotion I’m both the best and worst at. I’m quite good at feeling sad, and I know there are lots of different kinds of sad. But I’m quite bad at feeling sad in the “right” ways.
Example. Last night I went to a lovely panto show, featuring some of my friends, some good music, with good company, and then at the end I helped with the load-out which will be the last one for the Riley in it’s current form. In case you’ve not been keeping up, this is the theatre which has provided me with some of the best experiences of my life, on, off, and backstage. It’s very special to me.
But I didn’t cry, or even particularly feel sad.
To put that into context, I cry at anything. This advert makes me cry.
But saying “goodbye” to a place I love and to memories I cherish, didn’t inspire that in me.
The good thing is, I know why. It’s not because I’m entirely broken, it’s just because my memories aren’t tied to that room. They are all memories about amazing people, fantastic creativity, teamwork, honesty, often hilarity. They are little snapshots that I’ll keep with me even when I’m halfway round the globe, rather than spitting distance from the doors of the Riley. So I wasn’t sad last night, I was just happy that I had the chance to build all those memories, and I’m so excited for the next bunch of people who get to do that in their lovely new space.
I’m still not sure whether my brain has entirely understood that the Riley won’t be there any more, and I think inside I’m crying a bit, but I’ll keep an eye on that and see how it goes. But for now, no tears.
“What did you do today?” “Oh you know, nothing much. Decent day at work, popped to town, picked up some things, went to my friend’s house and assaulted him with Christmas decorations like some kind of demented Wise Man from days of yore”
I really enjoy Christmas. It has great and terrible music, performed in great and terrible ways. It has mince pies and Christmas cake and Christmas pudding. It has Baileys (typically, lots of it). Christmas is a lovely time of year.
The best bit of Christmas though, and I know how cringey this sounds, is the giving. But not all of it.
Today I had a thought, about trying to brighten up a friend’s life (which was already perfectly bright, so really I was just creating work for myself but WHATEVER) and I did something I don’t normally do, which is rather than overthinking it, I just did the thing. The result of which, as I’ve already mentioned, was me turning up at his house like a psychopathic Santa Claus with an insane Christmas obsession. Mercifully he’s used to me being a little bit mental, and it’s all fine.
It was nice, because it was the right kind of giving. The giving where you do it just for the sake of doing a thing for another person, not because you’re expected to, or because you’ve always done it, or because there’s a myth about a fat bloke in a red suit. Just giving for the sake of (hopefully) creating a bit of happiness.
Of course the complexity of Christmas is that there are always a few people you are obliged to get gifts for, fully in the knowledge that you’ll not really enrich their lives by doing so, and you’ll only burn a hole in your own pocket. Which is why I hate Christmas.
So to conclude, I love Christmas, but I hate it.
You’re welcome.
(Other key messages from today’s broadcast include: if you want to do something, you should do it, because overthinking can be damaging and it’s good to believe in your ideas. Even if you are a bit nuts. Because your friends are good, and will probably mostly overlook how nuts you are, and might even offer you tea.)
Let’s get right back into it with an interesting and really complex subject, which seems to have been central to my thoughts lately. Love. It’s pretty great, but it comes in many forms and I think some people assume that the word “love” only has one meaning. I think they are wrong, but I also think that everyone interprets love in different ways, and I know that I’m very comfortable with my own understanding of “love”. It goes a bit like this.
Lasagne love So I love lasagne. It’s my favourite food. It’s hot and wholesome and it doesn’t compromise (when it’s good at least). I love it because it’s nostalgic of my childhood, but it also encourages me to remember how much great stuff there is out there in the world that isn’t necessarily British.
Also, it’s an exciting food, and it’s a metaphor for life. There are meaty, messy bits, and smooth boring bits, and pasta (and extended metaphors which don’t necessarily work). It’s got everything. I’m unashamed to declare my love for lasagne.
Family love I love and hate my family. I think everyone does, to varying extents. They say “you can’t choose your family” and that’s entirely true, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love them. After all, you owe them. They made you who you are, genetically, psychologically, socially. The works. And they owe you as well, because you had many of the same impacts on them (depending on where you are in any given family tree).
I love my family because I think they made me great. There are a few genetic traits I could give up, and a few sociological ones which I’d probably not miss, but overall I am who I am because of my amazing family, and I love them to pieces for it. And I also hate them, because they are so weird and annoying and frustrating. But that’s just how family love is.
Romantic love Romantic love is difficult. It’s great, it’s one of the best things in life, but it’s also hard. Like family love, you owe something to the person you choose as your romantic partner, but the difference is exactly that – you choose. You choose to share in their life problems, and trust in them to share yours. You commit yourself to the happiness of being loved, and the sadness of being imperfect (because everyone is imperfect).
You also have to choose when romantic love isn’t right, and that’s complicated. You’re giving something of yourself to someone with the expectation that they will give it back, and it’s central to that to know what that thing is you’re expecting, and what you should do if you don’t get it. This is why couples have such messy breakups – they go into the relationship unsure of their needs, but knowing full well that a need has to be met. But when that need is met, it’s the best thing on earth.
Friendship love This is the most complicated one of them all, at least for me. Some people say that their Mum is their best friend, or their partner, and I’ll admit that I’m close to both those people, but there’s something very unique about loving your friends, because they are the people who owe you nothing but still choose to love you back. You are invested in your partner or your family, you are connected to them. A friend can pick you up or drop you in an instant, but the really good ones don’t, and that’s why you love them.
They are the people who you transact with in a really unique way, because to truly love your friends you often end up knowing the things which make them tick, their wants and fears, and you know those things selflessly. And you give up those things to them, because best friends share a special level of trust. I am lucky to have some amazing friends who I would go to the moon and back for, and the thing which makes them so important is that I’m never tired of being their friend (and I like to hope they are never tired of being mine). When they need me to, I’ll move heaven and earth for them, no matter how inconvenient, and I’ll come out the other side not annoyed or fed up, but trying to understand what more I can do. It might be the strongest love of all, because it asks nothing in return, except a continued bond of friendship.
Ok, right, so. I’ve been away for a while now (see video below for reference(ish)).
At first, it was thesis writing. Then it was website problems. Finally, it was laziness (and busyness, but mostly the first one).
But hey, I’m back, I’m going to write again because I’ve promised myself I will, and I’m going to start a draft right now. Things that have happened since I last posted include my job becoming oh so hectic, but great, completing my thesis and handing it in, finding out that my oral exam isn’t til January, helping a friend move house, seeing another friend buy a house and move in, celebrating lots of great things with both family and friends, and generally lots of life outside the internet.
I’m suffering from that most recognisable of diseases, grincheyness. It’s been brought on by an overdose of “my-final-draft-should-be-submitted-by-Monday”.
The weekend ahead should look very pleasing. I’m seeing various friends for good food and drink and company, I’ve got baking to do for work, and the weather is (currently) not shocking. I’m totally uninspired by the whole thing, and what’s worse, I don’t want to be.
And apologies to those friends I’m going to spend time with, who I know full well read this blog. Worry not, by tomorrow I’ll have chased off the grincheyness and replaced it with sunshine and laughter which will be entirely genuine, because these are people whose company I truly appreciate. But today, I am grinchey, and I’d just rather no-one takes it away from me.
I have a lot of sympathy for the Grinch. Everyone can’t be sunshine and rainbows all the time. Some people are and they are sickening and boring. The world needs a good dose of cynicism, occasional malice, and often an undertone of general grumpiness. It’s important to be ok with not being happy, because if you’re not then being unhappy turns into a downward spiral of defeat. I don’t particularly like being not happy, and given the choice I’d have gone for some escapism for this evening and less grincheyness. But I’m here now, and I’m determined to enjoy my grumpy mood to it’s fullest.
I shall make dinner tonight, and it shall be delicious. But I’ll be resentful of all the ingredients for being healthy and fresh and not a cheap and nasty take-away.
I shall watch the Great British Menu tonight, and a chef will be knocked out, and regardless of who it is, it’ll be the wrong person.
I shall probably not do my Steptember steps, and then I may wallow in my guilt a while (but you should sponsor me anyway).
I shall go to bed frustrated that my thesis isn’t submitted.
And I’ll wake up tomorrow and we can have sunshine and rainbows again. But just not today. Thanks.
