In November I registered with eHarmony. I received several emails a day informing me I had new matches and messages from men but I couldn't see these or do anything about them until I subscribed. I knew that, yet I was hesitant to part with my money. I was hesitant to invest in something that has gone so terribly wrong in the past. Dating is just not my thing. Dating I do not get. Dating is what other people do so naturally well whereas I fail at it so incredibly. I can barely flirt and I can be so socially awkward when it comes to meeting people for the first time.
I have umed and ahed many many times as my inbox has filled with alerts from eHarmony. In my mind I'd argue with myself. I kept thinking that if I didn't subscribe I'd never meet anyone but then I'd think there was probably no point wasting my money by setting myself up for disappointment all over again. There were numerous times when I'd get home from work, go on my laptop with my card ready to pay before talking myself out of it when I'd see all the payment options.
After going back and forth like this and discussing it with a few of my friends and even my cousin at one point (who actually went all Mrs Doyle on me by saying "You will you will you will!" in response to my frequently used statement "I will never meet anyone!") I finally made the decision to subscribe.
I deem this as "Round 2". The first time I was using free dating sites and I like to think that because people are paying to use eHarmony it means they are taking dating a bit more seriously and aren't looking for an easy shag. I truly hope that is the case because if I have to go through one more experience of those stupid mind games some guys play where they keep you wondering whether they like you or not I will definitely resign myself to the crazy cat lady life. (I will also scream if someone tells me "I'm only looking for fun" again - those kind of guys I have zero time for now.
So in the words of the legend that is Taylor Swift, "I'm dying to see how this one ends".
Undoubtedly I will update this blog with how Round 2 goes.
Until next time....
F x
Tuesday 29 December 2015
Thursday 24 December 2015
The Bad Blogger
I had no idea how long it had been since I last posted on here and I am quite disappointed with myself...
The first is excuse is that I went on holiday. The second is that when I returned from holiday I was overwhelmed with work. The third and final excuse is the realisation that my Mum's dementia has sadly gotten worse since I moved away.
The resulting worry and stress of that realisation has really gotten to me over the last few weeks. Its affected my motivation, mood and even my running. I cannot help but feel desperately sad about her condition and the strain on my Dad who is now caring for her. When I dwell on this I can't help but feel bitter because it is not fair that this happening to her. She doesn't deserve it after all she has done.
With the stress has come regret; I regret not living my life better. I am working hard to go far in my career, yet I am nowhere near a success yet. I live in a house share in a house that quite frankly can be pretty rank at times. However, it was my choice to live as cheap as possible because I don't earn a lot. I am disappointed in myself. As hard as try to get somewhere, I seem to get further and further behind. I frequently stop and look at what I have achieved at the age of 28 and come to the conclusion that its not an awful lot.
I want to help my parents. As I am their only child still in England (my two older brothers live in other countries) I keep feeling responsible. I want to be able to provide financial support but I can't and I hate myself for it. All I can do is listen when my Dad needs to vent or help out with chores whenever I am home. I don't believe it is enough though. It breaks my heart that I am incredibly useless in this situation.
I remember a couple of years ago when my Dad and I started noticing that my Mum's behaviour wasn't right. I remember talking to one of my brothers about how she didn't want to do anything and that she was forgetting things. He said something along the lines of, "Our brain's get lazy if we don't stimulate them enough as we get older. Perhaps if she had grandchildren around, she'd have them to keep her busy." It wasn't a dig at me but sometimes I wonder if I had had kids, would she have been different? Deep down I know she wouldn't have been. Once dementia starts, it doesn't go away. It gradually and then rather suddenly, gets worse. It just makes me sad that I never provided her with grandchildren before the illness really kicked in. For maybe just a year or so she could have enjoyed being a Grandma. But instead I was messing about, wasting my time and amounting to nothing.
Hindsight is not a wonderful thing. It is a constant reminder of how much I have messed up and let my parents down over the years. I should be so much more for them and I'm not.
F x
The first is excuse is that I went on holiday. The second is that when I returned from holiday I was overwhelmed with work. The third and final excuse is the realisation that my Mum's dementia has sadly gotten worse since I moved away.
The resulting worry and stress of that realisation has really gotten to me over the last few weeks. Its affected my motivation, mood and even my running. I cannot help but feel desperately sad about her condition and the strain on my Dad who is now caring for her. When I dwell on this I can't help but feel bitter because it is not fair that this happening to her. She doesn't deserve it after all she has done.
With the stress has come regret; I regret not living my life better. I am working hard to go far in my career, yet I am nowhere near a success yet. I live in a house share in a house that quite frankly can be pretty rank at times. However, it was my choice to live as cheap as possible because I don't earn a lot. I am disappointed in myself. As hard as try to get somewhere, I seem to get further and further behind. I frequently stop and look at what I have achieved at the age of 28 and come to the conclusion that its not an awful lot.
I want to help my parents. As I am their only child still in England (my two older brothers live in other countries) I keep feeling responsible. I want to be able to provide financial support but I can't and I hate myself for it. All I can do is listen when my Dad needs to vent or help out with chores whenever I am home. I don't believe it is enough though. It breaks my heart that I am incredibly useless in this situation.
I remember a couple of years ago when my Dad and I started noticing that my Mum's behaviour wasn't right. I remember talking to one of my brothers about how she didn't want to do anything and that she was forgetting things. He said something along the lines of, "Our brain's get lazy if we don't stimulate them enough as we get older. Perhaps if she had grandchildren around, she'd have them to keep her busy." It wasn't a dig at me but sometimes I wonder if I had had kids, would she have been different? Deep down I know she wouldn't have been. Once dementia starts, it doesn't go away. It gradually and then rather suddenly, gets worse. It just makes me sad that I never provided her with grandchildren before the illness really kicked in. For maybe just a year or so she could have enjoyed being a Grandma. But instead I was messing about, wasting my time and amounting to nothing.
Hindsight is not a wonderful thing. It is a constant reminder of how much I have messed up and let my parents down over the years. I should be so much more for them and I'm not.
F x
Sunday 22 November 2015
Love
I honestly do not know how it feels to be in love or be loved (can't help but think of Moulin Rouge here - The greatest thing you'll ever learn is to be loved and be loved in return!) I thought I had once been in a loving relationship but I have since realised that was never genuine.
Obviously my family love me and I love them. The same goes for my friends. (I also love my cat but I'm fairly certain that's one sided and definitely doesn't count). But the kind of love for just one person who loves you in return unconditionally I am yet to experience. I envy anyone who has this because I'd love to know how it feels to form such a strong bond with someone else.
I wouldn't know how to get this kind of love. I've tried many many times and failed incredibly to the point where I am now no longer trying. I'm not making an effort to meet anyone because I fear I will face the same rejection and pain of simply trying to get someone to like me. I find dating so exhausting when I tend to attract the same kind of person every time - a person that just wants "fun" or "nothing serious".
I actually believe there must be something wrong with me as everyone around me finds a relationship so easily. They find someone who goes head over heels for them and treats them well....whereas I don't. I often wonder if I am too boring, too nice or maybe just trying too hard to impress someone that doesn't actually care what I say or do as long as they get a shag out of me.
Don't get me wrong. I was all for the no strings attached thing for a good year or so. But that year has been and gone and is now a distant memory of "What the hell was I thinking?" I don't want to mess about anymore, yet if I actively date again I just think I will be easily lured into another crappy relationship because I'm fed up of being alone and beating myself up for not having something with someone. I'm worried I will be quick to settle and no one should ever settle when it isn't right.
When I scroll through my Faceboook or Instagram feeds I see posts and posts of "Having the best day with the love of my life", or "Out to dinner with my love" and so on. I see massive paragraphs and photo collages whenever someone is celebrating their anniversary or their significant other's birthday. I am sickened by all these but only because I am jealous and I am willing to admit that. I'd be pretty pleased if someone made posts like that about me, or if I could about someone else despite how much I'd cringe. I hate to be the bitter, cynical one on Facebook rolling my eyes at these gushing posts. I want to experience them myself rather than posting about a great run I just did or how cute my cat is....
My problem is I don't get how to keep someone interested in me. I have a lot of friends so I must be likeable....but forming a relationship is a mystery to me. I try my hardest to switch off this constant need to find someone but I fail. Every day I fail because every day I think about it. I wonder when or if it will ever happen for me. I'm a hopeless romantic at heart and love to think the right person will just stumble in to my life one day when I least expect it. Unfortunately that sort of thing only happens in books or films and not in real life.
I don't want to resort to being single. I don't want to believe that this is it and I will never experience true love. When I look around me day to day and see couples holding hands as they walk around the shops, having dinner together or just simply laughing together I ache for that. Especially at this time of year in the lead up to Christmas.
I'm sick of being the lemon amongst my friends, the one that tags along with other couples. I'm fed up of hearing "you're young - someone will come along eventually!" It's been too long now and as more and more of my friends settle down with someone I just seem to become more and more lonely and lost.
I have no idea what else I can do to make myself loveable. I'm aware I don't have much going for me. I'm not super rich or successful but I am nice. I am caring and I do my best to help others whenever I can. I enjoy a good laugh. I keep fit and healthy. I can carry a good conversation with someone....yet it's never enough.
I'm kinda loosing faith here and it sucks.
Sorry for a bad post.
Until next time...
F x
Obviously my family love me and I love them. The same goes for my friends. (I also love my cat but I'm fairly certain that's one sided and definitely doesn't count). But the kind of love for just one person who loves you in return unconditionally I am yet to experience. I envy anyone who has this because I'd love to know how it feels to form such a strong bond with someone else.
I wouldn't know how to get this kind of love. I've tried many many times and failed incredibly to the point where I am now no longer trying. I'm not making an effort to meet anyone because I fear I will face the same rejection and pain of simply trying to get someone to like me. I find dating so exhausting when I tend to attract the same kind of person every time - a person that just wants "fun" or "nothing serious".
I actually believe there must be something wrong with me as everyone around me finds a relationship so easily. They find someone who goes head over heels for them and treats them well....whereas I don't. I often wonder if I am too boring, too nice or maybe just trying too hard to impress someone that doesn't actually care what I say or do as long as they get a shag out of me.
Don't get me wrong. I was all for the no strings attached thing for a good year or so. But that year has been and gone and is now a distant memory of "What the hell was I thinking?" I don't want to mess about anymore, yet if I actively date again I just think I will be easily lured into another crappy relationship because I'm fed up of being alone and beating myself up for not having something with someone. I'm worried I will be quick to settle and no one should ever settle when it isn't right.
When I scroll through my Faceboook or Instagram feeds I see posts and posts of "Having the best day with the love of my life", or "Out to dinner with my love" and so on. I see massive paragraphs and photo collages whenever someone is celebrating their anniversary or their significant other's birthday. I am sickened by all these but only because I am jealous and I am willing to admit that. I'd be pretty pleased if someone made posts like that about me, or if I could about someone else despite how much I'd cringe. I hate to be the bitter, cynical one on Facebook rolling my eyes at these gushing posts. I want to experience them myself rather than posting about a great run I just did or how cute my cat is....
My problem is I don't get how to keep someone interested in me. I have a lot of friends so I must be likeable....but forming a relationship is a mystery to me. I try my hardest to switch off this constant need to find someone but I fail. Every day I fail because every day I think about it. I wonder when or if it will ever happen for me. I'm a hopeless romantic at heart and love to think the right person will just stumble in to my life one day when I least expect it. Unfortunately that sort of thing only happens in books or films and not in real life.
I don't want to resort to being single. I don't want to believe that this is it and I will never experience true love. When I look around me day to day and see couples holding hands as they walk around the shops, having dinner together or just simply laughing together I ache for that. Especially at this time of year in the lead up to Christmas.
I'm sick of being the lemon amongst my friends, the one that tags along with other couples. I'm fed up of hearing "you're young - someone will come along eventually!" It's been too long now and as more and more of my friends settle down with someone I just seem to become more and more lonely and lost.
I have no idea what else I can do to make myself loveable. I'm aware I don't have much going for me. I'm not super rich or successful but I am nice. I am caring and I do my best to help others whenever I can. I enjoy a good laugh. I keep fit and healthy. I can carry a good conversation with someone....yet it's never enough.
I'm kinda loosing faith here and it sucks.
Sorry for a bad post.
Until next time...
F x
Monday 16 November 2015
Time to say goodbye...
This week two of my very special friends will be moving to San Francisco. I still can't quite believe they are going and I keep hoping it's some big joke but as the day of their leaving gets closer I think it's fairly clear it isn't. So, in classic sentimental Fran fashion I am dedicating this post to Stu and Cheryl (maybe more so Cheryl as I know Stu will mock me for this!!)
I'm going to start by saying that Cheryl, you did an awful lot for me during a low point in my life. I dread to think how many texts and how many calls there were where I was going on and on about how my life was a mess and I didn't know what to. You always knew what to say. You remained strong, supportive and even though you were going through your own stresses and struggles, you still made time for me. I don't think I have ever told you how thankful I am for what you did for me back then. I was a wreck, yet your words managed to calm me down and force me to think rationally. I will always be grateful for your friendship during that time.
Both you and Stu have always made me laugh. I have some fantastic memories of you guys, which seem to mainly involve food! Cheryl that Thanksgiving dinner is one of the best meals I have ever eaten and Stu - your Spiced Apple is immense. I enjoyed all the times we ate at Teapod, Byron, Wahaca and at The Mayflower where we once got drenched by the Thames - that was pretty special!
But not all my memories of you involve food. The epic Spider incident of 2012 during your visit to Australia when I was out there will never be forgotten. I can still remember Stu flinching when he opened the rubbish chute because he was so on edge after getting rid of the eight legged beast. I also remember all the times I'd come to your flat, insisting I go on the bouncy floor or up on to the roof at night. In fact I believe it was on the roof where I came out with the "Saved up for a blow job" line which to this day still makes me cringe!
There were all those times we played Rock Band as well - I think it was Cheryl who did a hilarious rendition of Poker Face Cartman style. And of course there were the hours we wasted listening to bad music - Andew W.K. Party Hard in particular. I know you really don't like that song Cheryl but unfortunately I will always associate it with you and Stu! (Whilst on the subject of that song I just want you to know that from now on I will make sure I always punch my trainers once I have laced them up...)
I am really going to miss you both. I'm going to miss Stu's odd sense of humour and his banter. I'm going to miss meeting up with Cheryl for sushi, noodles and a girly gossip. I'm going to miss your lovely flat and just hanging out watching films. You are a wonderful couple and I truly wish you all the best with your big move. It's going to be an incredible and exciting new chapter in your lives and I cannot wait to visit you both and eat some delicious food :)
Thank you for being such awesome friends.
Love Flan x
I'm going to start by saying that Cheryl, you did an awful lot for me during a low point in my life. I dread to think how many texts and how many calls there were where I was going on and on about how my life was a mess and I didn't know what to. You always knew what to say. You remained strong, supportive and even though you were going through your own stresses and struggles, you still made time for me. I don't think I have ever told you how thankful I am for what you did for me back then. I was a wreck, yet your words managed to calm me down and force me to think rationally. I will always be grateful for your friendship during that time.
Both you and Stu have always made me laugh. I have some fantastic memories of you guys, which seem to mainly involve food! Cheryl that Thanksgiving dinner is one of the best meals I have ever eaten and Stu - your Spiced Apple is immense. I enjoyed all the times we ate at Teapod, Byron, Wahaca and at The Mayflower where we once got drenched by the Thames - that was pretty special!
But not all my memories of you involve food. The epic Spider incident of 2012 during your visit to Australia when I was out there will never be forgotten. I can still remember Stu flinching when he opened the rubbish chute because he was so on edge after getting rid of the eight legged beast. I also remember all the times I'd come to your flat, insisting I go on the bouncy floor or up on to the roof at night. In fact I believe it was on the roof where I came out with the "Saved up for a blow job" line which to this day still makes me cringe!
There were all those times we played Rock Band as well - I think it was Cheryl who did a hilarious rendition of Poker Face Cartman style. And of course there were the hours we wasted listening to bad music - Andew W.K. Party Hard in particular. I know you really don't like that song Cheryl but unfortunately I will always associate it with you and Stu! (Whilst on the subject of that song I just want you to know that from now on I will make sure I always punch my trainers once I have laced them up...)
I am really going to miss you both. I'm going to miss Stu's odd sense of humour and his banter. I'm going to miss meeting up with Cheryl for sushi, noodles and a girly gossip. I'm going to miss your lovely flat and just hanging out watching films. You are a wonderful couple and I truly wish you all the best with your big move. It's going to be an incredible and exciting new chapter in your lives and I cannot wait to visit you both and eat some delicious food :)
Thank you for being such awesome friends.
Love Flan x
Monday 9 November 2015
Little girl lost
Over two and a half years ago my life was a complete mess. I had never felt as lost as I did back then when I had returned home from travelling and broken up with my ex. I returned to my parents with nothing - no job, no money and no idea of which direction to take. I cannot begin to fully describe how distraught and depressed I was. I barely slept or ate and I honestly do not know how I got from one day to the next. Just walking 10 minutes into town was a struggle but I had to leave the house so I didn't sit there going over and over the mess I was in. The most overwhelming realisation at that time was that I didn't know who I was.
The process of rebuilding myself has been long and difficult with several setbacks. There have been so many pieces to put back together. After I started medication for my depression, I enjoyed the instant happiness a little too much. I behaved terribly and ran in to situations with no consideration for the consequences. At the time I believed it was what I wanted to do, that I was a person who didn't give a shit but the more I behaved recklessly, the less I wasn't working on healing myself properly. I shunned counselling and naively thought I no longer needed my pills so I stopped taking them. In doing so I completely broke down all over again. Not as much as I had the first time round, but I was looking at my life with an extreme amount of negativity and panic. My mind went round and round in circles and I couldn't calm myself no matter how hard I tried.
I ended up back in a dark place and closed myself off, refusing to take advice from anyone. I was jealous of everyone and certain nothing would ever be right for me. I cried and looked to my future with an incredibly bleak outlook. I wanted to shut down. I was done but didn't know how to get out of it. I felt so alienated from all my friends who were doing so well and I simply ached to be like any one of them.
Somehow I started to focus on productive ways to heal myself. I went to therapy, took medication (again!) and listened to my friends. I started eating properly rather than trying to eat the bare minimum. I then started to look for a new job in another city because despite how terrified I was to leave my comfort zone, I knew I had to make a significant change before it was too late.
Eventually I did succeed and moved to Nottingham almost 6 months ago. So far I have been fairly stable and content, which is good considering I am no longer on medication. I think in some ways I am becoming more me, yet I am very far behind others. In amongst all my friends I don't feel successful and I constantly think I need to do more to have a better life. I always think I have failed but others say otherwise.
Though I have managed to come a long way since my dark times I am yet to shift the occasional feeling of isolation. I am not a part of anything. Even when my friends say they love me and that I am doing fine, I can't quite believe them. I continue to believe I have messed up and that I won't ever reach that point of belonging and contentment.
I am still not quite myself. I am still searching for everything that I lost all those years ago. At least for now though I am keeping my head above the surface instead of drowning in my destructive thoughts.
It takes a lot of time, patience and effort to deal with an unsettled mind but I try. I do try.
F x
The process of rebuilding myself has been long and difficult with several setbacks. There have been so many pieces to put back together. After I started medication for my depression, I enjoyed the instant happiness a little too much. I behaved terribly and ran in to situations with no consideration for the consequences. At the time I believed it was what I wanted to do, that I was a person who didn't give a shit but the more I behaved recklessly, the less I wasn't working on healing myself properly. I shunned counselling and naively thought I no longer needed my pills so I stopped taking them. In doing so I completely broke down all over again. Not as much as I had the first time round, but I was looking at my life with an extreme amount of negativity and panic. My mind went round and round in circles and I couldn't calm myself no matter how hard I tried.
I ended up back in a dark place and closed myself off, refusing to take advice from anyone. I was jealous of everyone and certain nothing would ever be right for me. I cried and looked to my future with an incredibly bleak outlook. I wanted to shut down. I was done but didn't know how to get out of it. I felt so alienated from all my friends who were doing so well and I simply ached to be like any one of them.
Somehow I started to focus on productive ways to heal myself. I went to therapy, took medication (again!) and listened to my friends. I started eating properly rather than trying to eat the bare minimum. I then started to look for a new job in another city because despite how terrified I was to leave my comfort zone, I knew I had to make a significant change before it was too late.
Eventually I did succeed and moved to Nottingham almost 6 months ago. So far I have been fairly stable and content, which is good considering I am no longer on medication. I think in some ways I am becoming more me, yet I am very far behind others. In amongst all my friends I don't feel successful and I constantly think I need to do more to have a better life. I always think I have failed but others say otherwise.
Though I have managed to come a long way since my dark times I am yet to shift the occasional feeling of isolation. I am not a part of anything. Even when my friends say they love me and that I am doing fine, I can't quite believe them. I continue to believe I have messed up and that I won't ever reach that point of belonging and contentment.
I am still not quite myself. I am still searching for everything that I lost all those years ago. At least for now though I am keeping my head above the surface instead of drowning in my destructive thoughts.
It takes a lot of time, patience and effort to deal with an unsettled mind but I try. I do try.
F x
Sunday 25 October 2015
13.1
So I did it. A week ago today I did my first ever half marathon and what an experience it was. It was intense, emotional and one of the most amazing yet toughest things I have ever done.
As I sit here now I do wonder how on earth I managed to run 13.1 miles when before I started running I was the kind of person who really couldn't be bothered with exercise. In these past two years I have completely changed my attitude. I always wondered how anyone could find any kind of enjoyment in exercise - especially running - but I definitely get it now.
The Great Birmingham Run was an event that restored my faith in humanity. The amount of support from complete strangers as I ran the course was incredibly touching. Children stood at the sides with their hands out hoping for a high five whilst people I had never met shouted my name. All the clapping and signs of encouragement were enough to choke me up every few miles.
It wasn't just the crowds that were humbling though, it was also everyone else taking part in the challenge of running a half marathon. I saw so many people running on behalf of a charity. I even had one guy run past me shouting "Come on Twidders!" as he was also running for Dementia UK. In that very brief moment we were united before he carried on running ahead. I remember when I reached the 10 mile mark I really started to struggle but some people from Dementia UK were there to shout out words of encouragement towards me. At one point I felt like my heart could have exploded from the realisation of how nice people can actually be (or could it have been from the fact I was exhausted!) Whatever it was, I felt good.
My euphoria unfortunately dimmed between the 11 and 12 miles when my feet suddenly felt heavy and a blister was forming on the bottom of my left foot. Every step it rubbed and rubbed and it was all I could focus on. There was also some inclines that I hadn't anticipated and those really hit me hard. Annoyingly I had to walk for about a minute but after a much needed jelly baby from someone in the crowd I perked up again and forced myself to run the last 1.1 mile even if it killed me. In my head I knew it wasn't far but it seemed it. In the last 500 metres when I could see the finish line ahead of me I was running on empty. There were was an even larger crowd on both sides of the track at this point and they really helped keep me going with their cheers. When I crossed that line I had never felt so relieved to be done and I as I walked to collect that all important goodie bag it slowly sunk in what I had just done. I had just completed a half marathon. Me - the girl who once hated exercise with a passion. I couldn't believe it!
Even as I walked back to the hotel to collect my bag, wrapped in my foil and eating the food from my goodie bag, strangers walking past congratulated me. When I was at the station having lunch and a cup of tea (which I had never craved so much in my life before!) I received loads of messages from my family and friends. One of my housemates had bought me flowers and a card which were waiting outside my room for me when I returned the next day. I was so overwhelmed by all the kindness from everyone that I almost cried.
Most importantly though I have raised over £500 for Dementia UK thanks to the generosity of all my friends and family. This has been the most touching outcome of taking part in the Great Birmingham Run - all the support has been amazing and I am so thankful to every single person who donated. Dementia UK is a charity very close to my heart. All the training and struggles of achieving my first half marathon have been worth it to raise so much money for a charity whose focus is providing Admiral Nurses who can give expert support to families living with dementia. After my Mum was diagnosed last year I have wanted to do something for her and others who suffer with the disease. I also wanted to help anyone who cares for someone with dementia, like my Dad has to now. I know dementia can't be beaten so it's important there is plenty of support available to all those affected by it.
As for me and the running I will still continue with it. I'm already looking at what I can sign up to next just so I have another challenge to focus on. It truly is addictive!
F x
Sunday 11 October 2015
Dementia
A week today I will be doing the Great Birmingham Run. There are two main reasons why I am doing this run. One is for the challenge and the other is because I am raising money for Dementia UK, a charity which means a lot to me.
Sadly my mother was diagnosed with vascular dementia last year at the age of 67. My dad and I had felt something wasn't right for a long time, as did other family members because she was forgetting things, getting easily confused and she was no longer doing the things she used to do. All the activities she thrived on doing - cooking, gardening, shopping and reading she gradually stopped doing altogether. She became disinterested and hated doing anything new. She'd snap whenever my Dad or I tried to help her or ask why she wouldn't do anything. For a while we thought it was depression and that somehow we could break her out of it but after so many discussions we never made any progress.
Eventually my Dad took her to the doctors and after many appointments and tests the diagnoses was made. It was good in a way to finally know what was wrong but at the same time it hurt. It still hurts now because no matter what you do, dementia doesn't go away or get better. At best it can remain stable for a while but unfortunately it can only get worse.
My Mum is no longer the same person she was. Dementia takes everything from the person suffering with the disease. Not only does it take their memories, but it also takes away their confidence, their happiness and their abilities. I can't deny that I hate what it has done to my Mum. I hate it with a passion and sometimes I get so angry about it when I think that of all the people in the world, my Mum doesn't deserve it. She doesn't deserve to be this anxious and terrified person who now has to depend on my Dad for everything.
Before this started my Mum was always self-assured and tough and had an incredible career where she helped a lot of people. She was a nurse, a midwife and then a health visitor. People loved her for what she did for them and it saddens me when those people approach her now to thank her for her help. It's sad because she doesn't remember them. She can't quite remember the career she had and that's shit.
When I was younger I went to her for everything because I knew she would always give me the best advice. We did a lot together - shopping, baking and watching our favourite television shows. Even though we'd fall out, we'd always make up again. I can remember all that she has done for me, but she can't.
I do get jealous of my friends who still get to spend time with their Mothers. They can go out and shop and talk. If I take my Mum somewhere she panics and wants to leave immediately. She can't stand being anywhere that isn't her home. Routine is important to people with dementia and if you change even the smallest part of that routine, it can completely disrupt their world.
There is a lot you have to understand when it comes to dementia. You really have to grow some patience and accept it will never go away. It took a long time for me to get to this point. I am not proud of all the times I have snapped at my Mum when it wasn't her fault. No matter how frustrating it can be, I know it isn't her so when I hear the same story for the 20th time I bite my tongue and pretend it's the first time I have ever heard it. When she forgets everything I tell her I don't get angry, I simply tell her again as calmly as I can. When she forgot my birthday this year I tried not to take it personally.
After my Dad retired he pretty much became my Mum's carer, another outcome of dementia that angered me. He'd spent his whole life working hard and retirement was meant to be relaxing and enjoyable, but instead it is stressful and a big strain on him. He has to experience this every single day and it kills me. It's not right for this to be happening to them when they are two of the loveliest people in the world.
On 18th October 2015 I am running for my Mum and anyone else with this cruel disease. I am also running for my Dad and all those who care for people with dementia. Though dementia has taken away so much it has taught me to appreciate life and live it as best I can.
If anyone would like to make any donations towards Dementia UK by sponsoring me then please visit https://www.justgiving.com/Frances-Twiddy/
F x
Sadly my mother was diagnosed with vascular dementia last year at the age of 67. My dad and I had felt something wasn't right for a long time, as did other family members because she was forgetting things, getting easily confused and she was no longer doing the things she used to do. All the activities she thrived on doing - cooking, gardening, shopping and reading she gradually stopped doing altogether. She became disinterested and hated doing anything new. She'd snap whenever my Dad or I tried to help her or ask why she wouldn't do anything. For a while we thought it was depression and that somehow we could break her out of it but after so many discussions we never made any progress.
Eventually my Dad took her to the doctors and after many appointments and tests the diagnoses was made. It was good in a way to finally know what was wrong but at the same time it hurt. It still hurts now because no matter what you do, dementia doesn't go away or get better. At best it can remain stable for a while but unfortunately it can only get worse.
My Mum is no longer the same person she was. Dementia takes everything from the person suffering with the disease. Not only does it take their memories, but it also takes away their confidence, their happiness and their abilities. I can't deny that I hate what it has done to my Mum. I hate it with a passion and sometimes I get so angry about it when I think that of all the people in the world, my Mum doesn't deserve it. She doesn't deserve to be this anxious and terrified person who now has to depend on my Dad for everything.
Before this started my Mum was always self-assured and tough and had an incredible career where she helped a lot of people. She was a nurse, a midwife and then a health visitor. People loved her for what she did for them and it saddens me when those people approach her now to thank her for her help. It's sad because she doesn't remember them. She can't quite remember the career she had and that's shit.
When I was younger I went to her for everything because I knew she would always give me the best advice. We did a lot together - shopping, baking and watching our favourite television shows. Even though we'd fall out, we'd always make up again. I can remember all that she has done for me, but she can't.
I do get jealous of my friends who still get to spend time with their Mothers. They can go out and shop and talk. If I take my Mum somewhere she panics and wants to leave immediately. She can't stand being anywhere that isn't her home. Routine is important to people with dementia and if you change even the smallest part of that routine, it can completely disrupt their world.
There is a lot you have to understand when it comes to dementia. You really have to grow some patience and accept it will never go away. It took a long time for me to get to this point. I am not proud of all the times I have snapped at my Mum when it wasn't her fault. No matter how frustrating it can be, I know it isn't her so when I hear the same story for the 20th time I bite my tongue and pretend it's the first time I have ever heard it. When she forgets everything I tell her I don't get angry, I simply tell her again as calmly as I can. When she forgot my birthday this year I tried not to take it personally.
After my Dad retired he pretty much became my Mum's carer, another outcome of dementia that angered me. He'd spent his whole life working hard and retirement was meant to be relaxing and enjoyable, but instead it is stressful and a big strain on him. He has to experience this every single day and it kills me. It's not right for this to be happening to them when they are two of the loveliest people in the world.
On 18th October 2015 I am running for my Mum and anyone else with this cruel disease. I am also running for my Dad and all those who care for people with dementia. Though dementia has taken away so much it has taught me to appreciate life and live it as best I can.
If anyone would like to make any donations towards Dementia UK by sponsoring me then please visit https://www.justgiving.com/Frances-Twiddy/
F x
Sunday 4 October 2015
Letting go
Anyone who knows me well knows that I am a real dweller of the past. When I should be putting all my efforts in to the here and now I am wasting time thinking about what has happened over the years - everything I didn't do or did do when I shouldn't have. I wake up in the middle of night sometimes and beat myself up with regrets over how I have lived my life up until now. I am not one for letting go easily and I have reached a point where I need to take serious steps towards shutting a door on the past and no longer allowing it to take over my mind.
I know it's impossible to completely forget the past but I do know I can lessen the amount of time I spend going over and over it. It's done. It's happened. I did what I did then and I cannot change it now. I have to remind myself of that otherwise I will end up beating myself up even more so when I am much older for not letting go of all of that.
I have always been a believer of fate and that things happen for a reason and I don't think I will change that. When I look over my life positively I think certain things occurred to make me tougher, bring great people in to my life and gradually develop my sense of self. I wonder if maybe I am just a slow developer. I don't have all my shit together now but eventually I might.
I go about my days with an obsession that karma will work its magic and make my life amazing. Suddenly I will have loads of money, an amazing house and a perfect partner and I can finally believe that all the hard times paid off. It's ok to have some faith but I shouldn't assume that my life can change just like that. The universe does not owe me. Nothing can actually change until I take productive steps to bring those changes about. I get it in my head that my life is so terrible and I've been played an unfair hand. More and more I am starting to see that's a load of crap. My life is actually ok and by acknowledging the good - whether small or big - things in my life I can remind myself of that. It could always be worse.
I have said it so many times before but I cannot stress it enough - I have truly wonderful and amazing friends. When I am obsessing over my past or feeling like a failure in life, I think of them and how whenever I am with them I always have a great time. If I hold on to the fact I have many bonds with so many people then I think I will get better.
Here's to letting go and living in the now....
F x
I know it's impossible to completely forget the past but I do know I can lessen the amount of time I spend going over and over it. It's done. It's happened. I did what I did then and I cannot change it now. I have to remind myself of that otherwise I will end up beating myself up even more so when I am much older for not letting go of all of that.
I have always been a believer of fate and that things happen for a reason and I don't think I will change that. When I look over my life positively I think certain things occurred to make me tougher, bring great people in to my life and gradually develop my sense of self. I wonder if maybe I am just a slow developer. I don't have all my shit together now but eventually I might.
I go about my days with an obsession that karma will work its magic and make my life amazing. Suddenly I will have loads of money, an amazing house and a perfect partner and I can finally believe that all the hard times paid off. It's ok to have some faith but I shouldn't assume that my life can change just like that. The universe does not owe me. Nothing can actually change until I take productive steps to bring those changes about. I get it in my head that my life is so terrible and I've been played an unfair hand. More and more I am starting to see that's a load of crap. My life is actually ok and by acknowledging the good - whether small or big - things in my life I can remind myself of that. It could always be worse.
I have said it so many times before but I cannot stress it enough - I have truly wonderful and amazing friends. When I am obsessing over my past or feeling like a failure in life, I think of them and how whenever I am with them I always have a great time. If I hold on to the fact I have many bonds with so many people then I think I will get better.
Here's to letting go and living in the now....
F x
Sunday 27 September 2015
I rise and I fall
It took me a good few months to decide on a tattoo for my left thigh. I chose a phoenix because I felt it reflected my experiences with depression. I have frequently fallen down in life due to my depression or from being hurt by others but no matter what I somehow rise again. I don't believe depression will ever leave me and I don't believe I will never be hurt again, yet I know that I will find ways to cope and become stronger every time.
Each year I become a better version of myself. I am always healing and growing. More importantly I am able to pick myself up after every setback.
Eventually I will be unstoppable.
F x
Monday 21 September 2015
Why I run
Over the weekend I did my first ever 12 miles and I am feeling pretty pleased about it.
I started running in February 2014 after deciding I had to do something to get fit. All I did then was drive to work, sit at a desk and then drive home to just sit down and watch TV. The most I did in terms of exercise would be a walk or two throughout the week. Previously I had joined gyms but I would soon get bored of going, or if my routine was disrupted I wouldn't make an effort to get it back on track. It was time I made exercise a part of my life and I opted for running.
Not once did I ever envision myself running 12 miles. Back then it wasn't my goal. My goal was to do 3 miles, which was the distance to one of the nearby villages. When I was a child I had cycled to that village so I figured I could eventually run there. In the beginning 3 miles seemed like a huge distance and being the self doubter that I am I didn't really believe I'd build up the stamina to do it. I especially believed this when I on my first run around the block I lived on I was a complete mess. I couldn't breathe, I had a stitch and I was exhausted - and that was only from trying to run maybe about 300-500 metres. The next day I literally ached all over. I could not fathom how I would ever be able to run even just 1 mile. But, deep down there was a determination to persevere.
I ran 3 times a week. I became strict on myself and made it a part of my routine. Even though it was dark and cold I'd force myself out and though I wasn't going very far I did feel good after each run. I began adding an extra 10 seconds whenever I went out, gradually building up my distance until one night I was amazed to realise I had run 1 mile. I was ecstatic. My fitness wasn't quite 100 percent, I still had nights where I'd go out and I'd have to stop several times. I really had to work on my breathing and find a comfortable pace, but that first mile was enough for me to continue.
I'd say around 3 months later I finally ran to the village nearby, achieving the 3 miles I had hoped to run when I had begun. Around the same time I signed up for Race For Life in Sheffield with my cousin and I was happily sticking to running three times a week. I actually started to look forward to the buzz I had after a good run. A friend of mine said I'd be doing 4 miles soon but I didn't believe him. Yet, one evening I hit 3 miles and still had enough energy to carry on. So I did and yup - I ran 4 miles. Something had set off inside of me, it was like a drug and I couldn't stop. Without thinking twice I signed up to do a 10k (6 miles) and that's when I knew running was a part of my life. I even asked for proper running trainers for my birthday.
Obviously it wasn't amazing every single run. I remember training for the 10k and I had times where I didn't think I could do the distance. It seemed too much. I had issues with being able to run without stopping as well. My lungs just couldn't take it and I'd become frustrated with myself for not being fit enough. I also experienced pain in my left thigh for a month or so after doing too much and had to take a break to recover. I was gutted. I became so restless during that time and I ached to get back out there despite the setbacks and my self doubt.
After rest and an incredibly agonising - but worth it - sports massage my leg recovered and I got back outside and worked on hitting 6 miles. Probably within a month or so I was able to run that distance. The day I did my 10k and got my medal I was so happy. I felt like a runner. I had toned legs for the first time ever in my life and overall I felt fit and healthy.
I thought 6 miles would be my peak. I laughed at the idea of ever even considering trying to run further than that. A half marathon was something I didn't think I could do because it was 13 miles. 13 miles!! That's insane, I thought. Yet a couple months after my 10k I was in need of a new focus and before arguing myself out of it I registered with Dementia UK for a spot in The Great Birmingham Run on 18th October 2015. I have kicked myself several times for doing this since then because it truly is a very very long way but amazingly my training is going well.
People always ask why I run. Sometimes I wonder that myself when I am getting out of bed at 6am to do it but the truth is I love it. As I have said not every single run that I have done has been enjoyable - I've had horrible stitches, leg pains, breathing difficulties and times where I just want to stop and go home. I have been hard on myself in terms of my speed but then I think I am still doing a hell of a lot more than what other people do (or don't do!) Running has given me the fitness I wanted. It has given me something to focus on, a reason to better myself and it has done wonders for my anxiety and depression. I have run in all kinds of weather. I have seen some beautiful sunrises and sunsets. I have had runs where I feel like I am unstoppable and I cannot get enough of that feeling. As the miles have gone up I have become more and more proud of myself.
Whenever I hear someone say "I could never do that - I can't run!" I instantly disagree. Anyone can run. They can if they are willing to be patient and accept that you have to build up the distance slowly. It takes time to be able to run far and I think that's why some people tend to give up so easily. They want to be able to smash out 3 miles just like that (I know I certainly did in the beginning!) But it doesn't work that way. The only way to become a runner is to take small steps and become an expert at ignoring that annoying voice that urges you not to bother. You can do it. I am proof of that and there are so many more out there who are too. Anyone that runs had to start somewhere. We can't all be good at something straight away.
Every time I achieve another mile I remember that first run around my block and how awful I had felt during it. It's hard to believe how far I have come and though it hasn't always been great, running is certainly a passion of mine. If I wasn't able to run anymore I would be devastated because I have gained so much strength and self-belief from doing it. Running truly does wonders for both my body and mind and I wouldn't be without it.
F x
I started running in February 2014 after deciding I had to do something to get fit. All I did then was drive to work, sit at a desk and then drive home to just sit down and watch TV. The most I did in terms of exercise would be a walk or two throughout the week. Previously I had joined gyms but I would soon get bored of going, or if my routine was disrupted I wouldn't make an effort to get it back on track. It was time I made exercise a part of my life and I opted for running.
Not once did I ever envision myself running 12 miles. Back then it wasn't my goal. My goal was to do 3 miles, which was the distance to one of the nearby villages. When I was a child I had cycled to that village so I figured I could eventually run there. In the beginning 3 miles seemed like a huge distance and being the self doubter that I am I didn't really believe I'd build up the stamina to do it. I especially believed this when I on my first run around the block I lived on I was a complete mess. I couldn't breathe, I had a stitch and I was exhausted - and that was only from trying to run maybe about 300-500 metres. The next day I literally ached all over. I could not fathom how I would ever be able to run even just 1 mile. But, deep down there was a determination to persevere.
I ran 3 times a week. I became strict on myself and made it a part of my routine. Even though it was dark and cold I'd force myself out and though I wasn't going very far I did feel good after each run. I began adding an extra 10 seconds whenever I went out, gradually building up my distance until one night I was amazed to realise I had run 1 mile. I was ecstatic. My fitness wasn't quite 100 percent, I still had nights where I'd go out and I'd have to stop several times. I really had to work on my breathing and find a comfortable pace, but that first mile was enough for me to continue.
I'd say around 3 months later I finally ran to the village nearby, achieving the 3 miles I had hoped to run when I had begun. Around the same time I signed up for Race For Life in Sheffield with my cousin and I was happily sticking to running three times a week. I actually started to look forward to the buzz I had after a good run. A friend of mine said I'd be doing 4 miles soon but I didn't believe him. Yet, one evening I hit 3 miles and still had enough energy to carry on. So I did and yup - I ran 4 miles. Something had set off inside of me, it was like a drug and I couldn't stop. Without thinking twice I signed up to do a 10k (6 miles) and that's when I knew running was a part of my life. I even asked for proper running trainers for my birthday.
Obviously it wasn't amazing every single run. I remember training for the 10k and I had times where I didn't think I could do the distance. It seemed too much. I had issues with being able to run without stopping as well. My lungs just couldn't take it and I'd become frustrated with myself for not being fit enough. I also experienced pain in my left thigh for a month or so after doing too much and had to take a break to recover. I was gutted. I became so restless during that time and I ached to get back out there despite the setbacks and my self doubt.
After rest and an incredibly agonising - but worth it - sports massage my leg recovered and I got back outside and worked on hitting 6 miles. Probably within a month or so I was able to run that distance. The day I did my 10k and got my medal I was so happy. I felt like a runner. I had toned legs for the first time ever in my life and overall I felt fit and healthy.
I thought 6 miles would be my peak. I laughed at the idea of ever even considering trying to run further than that. A half marathon was something I didn't think I could do because it was 13 miles. 13 miles!! That's insane, I thought. Yet a couple months after my 10k I was in need of a new focus and before arguing myself out of it I registered with Dementia UK for a spot in The Great Birmingham Run on 18th October 2015. I have kicked myself several times for doing this since then because it truly is a very very long way but amazingly my training is going well.
People always ask why I run. Sometimes I wonder that myself when I am getting out of bed at 6am to do it but the truth is I love it. As I have said not every single run that I have done has been enjoyable - I've had horrible stitches, leg pains, breathing difficulties and times where I just want to stop and go home. I have been hard on myself in terms of my speed but then I think I am still doing a hell of a lot more than what other people do (or don't do!) Running has given me the fitness I wanted. It has given me something to focus on, a reason to better myself and it has done wonders for my anxiety and depression. I have run in all kinds of weather. I have seen some beautiful sunrises and sunsets. I have had runs where I feel like I am unstoppable and I cannot get enough of that feeling. As the miles have gone up I have become more and more proud of myself.
Whenever I hear someone say "I could never do that - I can't run!" I instantly disagree. Anyone can run. They can if they are willing to be patient and accept that you have to build up the distance slowly. It takes time to be able to run far and I think that's why some people tend to give up so easily. They want to be able to smash out 3 miles just like that (I know I certainly did in the beginning!) But it doesn't work that way. The only way to become a runner is to take small steps and become an expert at ignoring that annoying voice that urges you not to bother. You can do it. I am proof of that and there are so many more out there who are too. Anyone that runs had to start somewhere. We can't all be good at something straight away.
Every time I achieve another mile I remember that first run around my block and how awful I had felt during it. It's hard to believe how far I have come and though it hasn't always been great, running is certainly a passion of mine. If I wasn't able to run anymore I would be devastated because I have gained so much strength and self-belief from doing it. Running truly does wonders for both my body and mind and I wouldn't be without it.
F x
Sunday 13 September 2015
Spirals and struggles
Well it's not been the best two weeks in terms of anxiety and mood. I had a complete panic last week where I was convinced I was messing up. My mind went round and round in circles and I barely slept. I had this for a couple of days. I struggled to get out of bed and face the day. I hate that I never know when it is going to strike, it always seems to happen without warning and overrides everything that I do. I can't focus on anything but negative thoughts and as hard as I try, I can't ignore them.
During these times I know it is best to open up but it's hard when I also feel that I am annoying people by bringing up problems they have heard a million times before. So I repress it all as much as I can, which predictably makes me even more anxious and miserable.
It's important to talk though, to voice the worries in your mind no matter how stupid you think it seems. Luckily I have a few close friends who I can go to any time and without hesitation they ease the burden of my mind. I still fear they hate me for how I can be, but if they do they hide it well. They can end the spiralling from absorbing me even further and remind me that what I am doing is a good path to be on and that life isn't meant to be simple and straight forward. It's ok to be scared and ok not to understand new things straight away. It takes time to adjust to a new life and a new job.
I took some big steps a couple of months ago and every single part of me was terrified. It was very much jumping into the deep end without knowing how to swim. Nevertheless if I hadn't taken the leap then, then I would probably be worse off now. I would be beating myself up about not getting anywhere or changing anything. Either way I was going to experience anxiety so I persevered with leaving home.
It's all about challenge and doing things that scare you. I have been told this is how you develop and progress. Even if the challenges you take don't turn out well it's better to have taken the risk than sit around wondering "What if?" Several times I think I may have made a mistake but I think that comes from missing the simplicity of my old life. In my panic last week I contemplated going back but I knew deep down that wouldn't solve anything. It's better to keep going and find ways to handle my issues because I want to be stronger and better as a person.
There have been more good days than bad since I left so I like to think that means I am doing the right thing. For me it's always easy to overlook my achievements and dwell on my mistakes. That's when my amazing friends step in to remind me and pick me back up again.
In one way or another everyone struggles and no one has a completely perfect life. I need to remind myself of this more often and believe that I am not a rubbish person. I'm just trying to live my life as best I can. For once I am following my own heart rather than someone else's.
F x
During these times I know it is best to open up but it's hard when I also feel that I am annoying people by bringing up problems they have heard a million times before. So I repress it all as much as I can, which predictably makes me even more anxious and miserable.
It's important to talk though, to voice the worries in your mind no matter how stupid you think it seems. Luckily I have a few close friends who I can go to any time and without hesitation they ease the burden of my mind. I still fear they hate me for how I can be, but if they do they hide it well. They can end the spiralling from absorbing me even further and remind me that what I am doing is a good path to be on and that life isn't meant to be simple and straight forward. It's ok to be scared and ok not to understand new things straight away. It takes time to adjust to a new life and a new job.
I took some big steps a couple of months ago and every single part of me was terrified. It was very much jumping into the deep end without knowing how to swim. Nevertheless if I hadn't taken the leap then, then I would probably be worse off now. I would be beating myself up about not getting anywhere or changing anything. Either way I was going to experience anxiety so I persevered with leaving home.
It's all about challenge and doing things that scare you. I have been told this is how you develop and progress. Even if the challenges you take don't turn out well it's better to have taken the risk than sit around wondering "What if?" Several times I think I may have made a mistake but I think that comes from missing the simplicity of my old life. In my panic last week I contemplated going back but I knew deep down that wouldn't solve anything. It's better to keep going and find ways to handle my issues because I want to be stronger and better as a person.
There have been more good days than bad since I left so I like to think that means I am doing the right thing. For me it's always easy to overlook my achievements and dwell on my mistakes. That's when my amazing friends step in to remind me and pick me back up again.
In one way or another everyone struggles and no one has a completely perfect life. I need to remind myself of this more often and believe that I am not a rubbish person. I'm just trying to live my life as best I can. For once I am following my own heart rather than someone else's.
F x
Sunday 30 August 2015
Frances Ha
I recently watched a film called Frances Ha. It was recommended by someone I work with and I just knew I had to watch it because 1) My name is Frances too and 2) The plot sounded intriguing.
It's about a 27 year old dancer who doesn't really have all her shit altogether. She doesn't feel like a proper adult. All around her people are grown up and doing well whereas she struggles to progress with her dance career and look after herself. I am no dancer, but the whole "everyone is doing so well and I'm still messing about" aspect is something I totally relate to.
Throughout the film one of her friends jokingly calls Frances "undatable" - that is how I view myself these days. Pretty much all of my friends are in serious relationships now - I can't even get one guy to be interested in me for longer than a week. I suppose it's bad luck and I haven't met the right one yet but there comes a point where I think "it MUST be me!!" (Even though I'm pretty certain I am a nice, normal girl...)
I could sense Frances' isolation amongst the people she knew and that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite be on the same level as them - nothing seemed to work in her favour yet despite the many setbacks and disappointments she persevered. She didn't lose her spirit or desire to have fun.
I am the kind of person that for a while was on the same track as my friends. When we were teenagers, we all experienced confusion over who we were and what we wanted to be. At the start of my 20s I steered off that track and became very very lost in a destructive relationship where the focus of myself became non existent. During those years I became detached from my friends and lost my way. By the time I was single again and realising I had a lot of time to make up for in terms of career progression and generally just sorting myself out, my friends were way past that point. They were settling down with a partner, buying a house, getting married or about to have a baby. They'd already done what I was about to do - become an adult.
Even now I am still behind. I am still trying as hard as I can to get back on track but its so disheartening when I frequently remind myself of how unsuccessful I am compared to others my age. I have no partner, no baby, no house and I am still non the wiser on who I am or where I want to be.
Sometimes I'm not bothered and I view my current situation as kinda fun and that eventually my luck will change as long as I get on with things. Yet sometimes I feel like a failure. I find myself longing to be young again so that I could experience all of this confusion with my friends at the same time as them. Obviously, that can't happen.
So, like Frances Ha I am alone and struggling to be a proper adult but I will try to keep my hopes up. As lots of people say - you never know what is around the corner...
But for now, I am going nowhere fast.
F x
It's about a 27 year old dancer who doesn't really have all her shit altogether. She doesn't feel like a proper adult. All around her people are grown up and doing well whereas she struggles to progress with her dance career and look after herself. I am no dancer, but the whole "everyone is doing so well and I'm still messing about" aspect is something I totally relate to.
Throughout the film one of her friends jokingly calls Frances "undatable" - that is how I view myself these days. Pretty much all of my friends are in serious relationships now - I can't even get one guy to be interested in me for longer than a week. I suppose it's bad luck and I haven't met the right one yet but there comes a point where I think "it MUST be me!!" (Even though I'm pretty certain I am a nice, normal girl...)
I could sense Frances' isolation amongst the people she knew and that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite be on the same level as them - nothing seemed to work in her favour yet despite the many setbacks and disappointments she persevered. She didn't lose her spirit or desire to have fun.
I am the kind of person that for a while was on the same track as my friends. When we were teenagers, we all experienced confusion over who we were and what we wanted to be. At the start of my 20s I steered off that track and became very very lost in a destructive relationship where the focus of myself became non existent. During those years I became detached from my friends and lost my way. By the time I was single again and realising I had a lot of time to make up for in terms of career progression and generally just sorting myself out, my friends were way past that point. They were settling down with a partner, buying a house, getting married or about to have a baby. They'd already done what I was about to do - become an adult.
Even now I am still behind. I am still trying as hard as I can to get back on track but its so disheartening when I frequently remind myself of how unsuccessful I am compared to others my age. I have no partner, no baby, no house and I am still non the wiser on who I am or where I want to be.
Sometimes I'm not bothered and I view my current situation as kinda fun and that eventually my luck will change as long as I get on with things. Yet sometimes I feel like a failure. I find myself longing to be young again so that I could experience all of this confusion with my friends at the same time as them. Obviously, that can't happen.
So, like Frances Ha I am alone and struggling to be a proper adult but I will try to keep my hopes up. As lots of people say - you never know what is around the corner...
But for now, I am going nowhere fast.
F x
Sunday 23 August 2015
The friends that keep you going
I've been spending a lot of time with friends recently which is why I didn't manage to post anything last week.
It always fills me with so much excitement when I make plans to see my friends, especially when its a large group of us getting together for a long weekend. I know I will laugh, I will relax and I can forget about work and personal issues. I can just be with my friends, enjoying their company and feeling like we are still young and reckless. All we do is mess about and it warms my soul.
Everyone says this and it's cheesy but I honestly do not where I would be without my friends. I feel lucky to have so many good people that I can meet up with and laugh my cares away with. Even at my lowest points, my friends have the ability to ease some of that annoying misery I am prone to. I love my friends and what they have done for me. Some have been with me through some of my darkest times and despite how awful I was, they still stuck around. I don't think I can ever truly show how thankful I am because if it weren't for the amazing people that are my friends, I'd be very stuck.
It feels incredible when I realise the variety of people I have in my life that are true friends and the histories we have. There are so many private jokes and so many memories I have made with each and every one of them. Even though I am alone, I still have these wonderful people that I can count on and what amazes me more is that I still continue to make friends. Wherever I go I am able to create new bonds with others and I love that you go can through life making friends along the way.
So this is a soppy post. A soppy post for all my friends who do so much for me and more. I love you all.
F x
It always fills me with so much excitement when I make plans to see my friends, especially when its a large group of us getting together for a long weekend. I know I will laugh, I will relax and I can forget about work and personal issues. I can just be with my friends, enjoying their company and feeling like we are still young and reckless. All we do is mess about and it warms my soul.
Everyone says this and it's cheesy but I honestly do not where I would be without my friends. I feel lucky to have so many good people that I can meet up with and laugh my cares away with. Even at my lowest points, my friends have the ability to ease some of that annoying misery I am prone to. I love my friends and what they have done for me. Some have been with me through some of my darkest times and despite how awful I was, they still stuck around. I don't think I can ever truly show how thankful I am because if it weren't for the amazing people that are my friends, I'd be very stuck.
It feels incredible when I realise the variety of people I have in my life that are true friends and the histories we have. There are so many private jokes and so many memories I have made with each and every one of them. Even though I am alone, I still have these wonderful people that I can count on and what amazes me more is that I still continue to make friends. Wherever I go I am able to create new bonds with others and I love that you go can through life making friends along the way.
So this is a soppy post. A soppy post for all my friends who do so much for me and more. I love you all.
Sunday 9 August 2015
Mental Abuse
I have never really sat down and properly typed a post about mental abuse. I find this odd when it's something I unfortunately experienced for over 6 years and even though I am well removed and over that relationship - (it's been a good two years or so) - it is still something that plays on my mind every single day. I don't know how anyone can forget something like that when it can completely break you down and it can take a long time to build yourself back up again. Even now I still have bad moments where I remember all the horrible words that were aimed at me.
When I was in that relationship, I never once considered it to be abusive or something that I shouldn't be putting up with. I literally thought I deserved it, that it was all my fault that my ex treated me the way he did. That's the clever trick people like him master though - they gradually convince you that their terrible behaviour is your fault. The amount of times I heard the lines "I wouldn't be like this with you if you were different..." or "You pushed me to say that. You shouldn't push me." Not once did I ever receive an apology for his verbal abuse. In fact it was always me apologising to him. That's how twisted it was.
I look back over those years with such regret for never standing up for myself - for never fighting back and just letting him belittle me at every opportunity. But then I realise that it would have been impossible to reason with him because compromise is not something he ever entertained. It was his way or no way. There was no way I could ever have won against him. Perhaps I was too weak (as he often told me I was) but I think it just boils down to the fact I am a nice person and he knew that therefore he took advantage of it as much as he could.
It's hard to understand why someone who is meant to love and care for you could treat you so terribly. And it's also so hard to explain why I put up with it. I think it was a mixture of not wanting to be alone, that I believed I loved him and he loved me too and that one day things would get better between us. We did have good times together, he could be generous and caring, but behind closed doors there were times when I'd find myself being shouted at for not being "confident" enough, for not being "girly" enough, for not being "sexy" enough....there were many many things that were wrong with me according to him. I was called a "cunt" quite frequently and a "fat bitch" or "thick bitch" whenever he wanted to break me down by playing on my weaknesses. (Another abuser technique.)
It's not easy to remove yourself from that situation because they shatter your confidence so much that you become dependent on them. Even though they abuse you, you can't imagine leaving them because you believe you can't do any better. For me, I didn't believe anyone else would want me. I believed there really was something wrong with me because why else would my ex treat me that way? I never once considered it was him that was the problem. All those years I spent thinking I was the issue, the one who needed to change when really it was him the whole time. I didn't realise this until a good few months after our break up.
Moving on from such a destructive relationship isn't easy. As I said earlier the abuser becomes your world - especially with mine as he stopped me from seeing a lot of my closet friends - convincing me that I didn't need them, that they weren't proper friends to me (when really they were ten times better for me than he ever would be.) I struggled to get over him. It felt like the end of the world to me. Everything I had known was gone and I didn't have any idea what to do with myself. I was a complete wreck and beat myself up so much over the fact I never changed for him. However, once that passed I started to see that our relationship wasn't normal and I had actually been going through mental abuse the whole time.
It was like looking back on it all with a fresh perspective. Once any kind of feelings for him had left my system it was like the bullshit he had fed me went with them. It wasn't all my fault, I had never once during that relationship deserved his disgusting treatment. He was a controlling bully who rather than love and respect me, had verbally beaten me down to nothing the entire time we had been together.
I am far from perfect and do have my flaws but rather than help me with my problems he made them worse. No matter how many times he told me he was helping - he hadn't been whatsoever. He did nothing but tell me I was a shit girlfriend who should have been thankful he was putting up with me because he could do so much better than me. Where in fact it was more that I could have done better than him.
Nobody should ever have to go through what I did and I do urge anyone who feels like they are experiencing abuse to get help and leave. Yet I know that's it's really not that easy to do. It angers me that people like my ex exist in this world, that they deem it acceptable to control someone else's life and treat them so appallingly. The amount of times I wish I could go back and give my ex a piece of mind, but I know it wouldn't make any difference. People like him don't change. They will always believe they are perfect and nothing is ever their fault. So, realistically you just have to let it go.
My ex moved on from me within a couple of months so it's clear he never loved me. Maybe he's controlling her life now - I just don't know. I am yet to be with someone else when annoyingly the echoes of his abusive words still float around in my mind day to day. Some days are worse than others but they still haunt me. Despite counselling and many heart to hearts with close friends and family I still feel the effect of those insults. I carry them with me every day, which makes it harder for me to trust someone else.
I still have hope though, I still hope that one day I will meet someone decent but for now it's just me. At least I have some fantastic friends who I know will always be there for me and I would rather be alone than ever go through that hell again.
F x
When I was in that relationship, I never once considered it to be abusive or something that I shouldn't be putting up with. I literally thought I deserved it, that it was all my fault that my ex treated me the way he did. That's the clever trick people like him master though - they gradually convince you that their terrible behaviour is your fault. The amount of times I heard the lines "I wouldn't be like this with you if you were different..." or "You pushed me to say that. You shouldn't push me." Not once did I ever receive an apology for his verbal abuse. In fact it was always me apologising to him. That's how twisted it was.
I look back over those years with such regret for never standing up for myself - for never fighting back and just letting him belittle me at every opportunity. But then I realise that it would have been impossible to reason with him because compromise is not something he ever entertained. It was his way or no way. There was no way I could ever have won against him. Perhaps I was too weak (as he often told me I was) but I think it just boils down to the fact I am a nice person and he knew that therefore he took advantage of it as much as he could.
It's hard to understand why someone who is meant to love and care for you could treat you so terribly. And it's also so hard to explain why I put up with it. I think it was a mixture of not wanting to be alone, that I believed I loved him and he loved me too and that one day things would get better between us. We did have good times together, he could be generous and caring, but behind closed doors there were times when I'd find myself being shouted at for not being "confident" enough, for not being "girly" enough, for not being "sexy" enough....there were many many things that were wrong with me according to him. I was called a "cunt" quite frequently and a "fat bitch" or "thick bitch" whenever he wanted to break me down by playing on my weaknesses. (Another abuser technique.)
It's not easy to remove yourself from that situation because they shatter your confidence so much that you become dependent on them. Even though they abuse you, you can't imagine leaving them because you believe you can't do any better. For me, I didn't believe anyone else would want me. I believed there really was something wrong with me because why else would my ex treat me that way? I never once considered it was him that was the problem. All those years I spent thinking I was the issue, the one who needed to change when really it was him the whole time. I didn't realise this until a good few months after our break up.
Moving on from such a destructive relationship isn't easy. As I said earlier the abuser becomes your world - especially with mine as he stopped me from seeing a lot of my closet friends - convincing me that I didn't need them, that they weren't proper friends to me (when really they were ten times better for me than he ever would be.) I struggled to get over him. It felt like the end of the world to me. Everything I had known was gone and I didn't have any idea what to do with myself. I was a complete wreck and beat myself up so much over the fact I never changed for him. However, once that passed I started to see that our relationship wasn't normal and I had actually been going through mental abuse the whole time.
It was like looking back on it all with a fresh perspective. Once any kind of feelings for him had left my system it was like the bullshit he had fed me went with them. It wasn't all my fault, I had never once during that relationship deserved his disgusting treatment. He was a controlling bully who rather than love and respect me, had verbally beaten me down to nothing the entire time we had been together.
I am far from perfect and do have my flaws but rather than help me with my problems he made them worse. No matter how many times he told me he was helping - he hadn't been whatsoever. He did nothing but tell me I was a shit girlfriend who should have been thankful he was putting up with me because he could do so much better than me. Where in fact it was more that I could have done better than him.
Nobody should ever have to go through what I did and I do urge anyone who feels like they are experiencing abuse to get help and leave. Yet I know that's it's really not that easy to do. It angers me that people like my ex exist in this world, that they deem it acceptable to control someone else's life and treat them so appallingly. The amount of times I wish I could go back and give my ex a piece of mind, but I know it wouldn't make any difference. People like him don't change. They will always believe they are perfect and nothing is ever their fault. So, realistically you just have to let it go.
My ex moved on from me within a couple of months so it's clear he never loved me. Maybe he's controlling her life now - I just don't know. I am yet to be with someone else when annoyingly the echoes of his abusive words still float around in my mind day to day. Some days are worse than others but they still haunt me. Despite counselling and many heart to hearts with close friends and family I still feel the effect of those insults. I carry them with me every day, which makes it harder for me to trust someone else.
I still have hope though, I still hope that one day I will meet someone decent but for now it's just me. At least I have some fantastic friends who I know will always be there for me and I would rather be alone than ever go through that hell again.
F x
Sunday 2 August 2015
People and realisations
I find other people so fascinating. Yesterday I went to a barbecue and met some new people and it all started off fairly normal and easy going but by the end of the night there was drama.
What gets me is that sometimes I meet people that have an amazing house, a great job with good money and are living comfortably. They get to travel and do fun things. I have always believed that having all that stability and money automatically means you will be happy and satisfied. But that isn't always the case.
One guy I meant last night has this ideal life I often find myself craving for, yet I could see by the end of the night after something happened to him that he wasn't particularly happy with himself and his life. By the end of the night he was alone drinking and feeling sorry for himself because he wanted a girl he couldn't have. (In a nutshell he had invited an ex to the barbecue who then all convinced us to go out to a club later in the evening. Whilst there he saw her kissing another man and it really hurt him. He left the club feeling distraught.)
It surprised me a little that someone seemingly so "sorted" in life was still prone to that kind of heartbreak and I realised that even if I had all the things he had, it wouldn't mean I'd be immune to sadness or hurt, or that crushing feeling of loneliness that I experience now and then.
I suppose it really doesn't matter what you do in life, you'll always want something you can't have and experience disappointments. Believing that if you had or did certain things you will instantly be happy isn't right. I gradually realise each day that I shouldn't assume money will make me happy. What would probably make me happier is just to live my life as best I can even if I can't go off on expensive holidays or buy nice things. Being kind, considerate and helpful towards others would also bring me more satisfaction than being able to afford a fancy handbag.
It's probably always best to remember that money can come and go, but your values and who you are as a person is what sticks. Don't ever focus on the materials of life. You just have to carry on regardless, make the best of what you have and accept that we can't have it all.
F x
What gets me is that sometimes I meet people that have an amazing house, a great job with good money and are living comfortably. They get to travel and do fun things. I have always believed that having all that stability and money automatically means you will be happy and satisfied. But that isn't always the case.
One guy I meant last night has this ideal life I often find myself craving for, yet I could see by the end of the night after something happened to him that he wasn't particularly happy with himself and his life. By the end of the night he was alone drinking and feeling sorry for himself because he wanted a girl he couldn't have. (In a nutshell he had invited an ex to the barbecue who then all convinced us to go out to a club later in the evening. Whilst there he saw her kissing another man and it really hurt him. He left the club feeling distraught.)
It surprised me a little that someone seemingly so "sorted" in life was still prone to that kind of heartbreak and I realised that even if I had all the things he had, it wouldn't mean I'd be immune to sadness or hurt, or that crushing feeling of loneliness that I experience now and then.
I suppose it really doesn't matter what you do in life, you'll always want something you can't have and experience disappointments. Believing that if you had or did certain things you will instantly be happy isn't right. I gradually realise each day that I shouldn't assume money will make me happy. What would probably make me happier is just to live my life as best I can even if I can't go off on expensive holidays or buy nice things. Being kind, considerate and helpful towards others would also bring me more satisfaction than being able to afford a fancy handbag.
It's probably always best to remember that money can come and go, but your values and who you are as a person is what sticks. Don't ever focus on the materials of life. You just have to carry on regardless, make the best of what you have and accept that we can't have it all.
F x
Monday 20 July 2015
Lone Wolf
It's hard to ever feel a part of anything when so many times people come and go, and sometimes when they go they never come back.
There are people who can take so much from you - your hopes, your trust, your spirit, everything that you are. And then there are people who give you so much more than you'd ever expect.
Yet for all the happiness that one person or more may give you, it's only you at the end of the day. It's your heart and mind that you are responsible for and to look towards others for your sense of worth is a pointless desire.
Imagine if you loved yourself so much that you could go solo without any acceptance from others, that you could be such an unstoppable force in a world full of people seeking love and approval from anyone and everyone. To be like that is so rare.
You can always be a part of a pack but you will only ever have yourself.
Don't follow others.
Be a lone wolf.
Be yourself.
F x
Sunday 12 July 2015
Life
Why can't it be the dreams we have, the things we desire, the hopes we carry....
I don't think life is meant to be easy and without throwing yourself in to a challenge you can't progress. It's easy to stay, or easy to go back to old and safe ways but it won't achieve the change that you crave. Of course it's lonely, horrible and scary as hell but if you ride it out you never know what might happen next.
You can keep your dreams as long as you accept that you need to work hard to be where you want to be.
Sometimes you are ahead, sometimes you are behind....
F x
I don't think life is meant to be easy and without throwing yourself in to a challenge you can't progress. It's easy to stay, or easy to go back to old and safe ways but it won't achieve the change that you crave. Of course it's lonely, horrible and scary as hell but if you ride it out you never know what might happen next.
You can keep your dreams as long as you accept that you need to work hard to be where you want to be.
Sometimes you are ahead, sometimes you are behind....
F x
Sunday 5 July 2015
The Signs
Well. I moved out of my parent's yesterday and I am now here in a whole new place. I am mixed up and feeling all kinds of nerves, fear and excitement. I am definitely out of my comfort zone yet I know I have to try. This is the change I need to figure out who I am and what I want. Most of all it's about time I learned to look after myself without the help of others. This is a challenge for me and as much as I hate being alone and away from the people I love, I have some faith that this is the right move for me.
I like to believe in fate and things happening for a reason. There have been several signs I have noticed about this move that brings comfort to the part of me that thinks I am doing the right thing. These are the signs so far....
I like to believe in fate and things happening for a reason. There have been several signs I have noticed about this move that brings comfort to the part of me that thinks I am doing the right thing. These are the signs so far....
- I moved out on 4th July - Independence Day.
- I will be working at the University of Nottingham, a place where I found out after I got the job will also be my friend's wedding venue in October.
- My friend also studied on the same campus I will be based on.
- Before I interviewed for the job I spotted a book in the library of Chatsworth House called 'Chinese Studies' - The department I will be working for is the School of Contemporary Chinese.
- The street next to me has "Dagmar" in the name. My next door neighbour from home is called Dagmar.
- One of the girls that I share with has a running club. I intended to join a running club when I started looking to move to the area.
- In the front room of the house I live in there are 4 bottles of hot sauce. I have the exact same ones back at my parent's house.
- One of my housemates studied at Cambridge - the same University my Dad and brother went to.
- Paramore's song "Ain't it Fun" about being on your own came on as I walked about yesterday exploring my new home and feeling emotional.
- When I went for my first food shop they were giving away free cake. That can only mean good things...
It may all be nonsense and coincidence and I could be making a huge mistake....I guess I will just have to wait and see.
F x
Sunday 28 June 2015
1 week to go
My move out day is getting closer and closer. I have started packing up my things and the nerves are in full swing. I have no idea if this is a good move. 'What if's?' are constantly flowing around my head now - what if I am crap at the job, what if I get lost, what if I don't get on with anyone, what if I run out of money, what if I chose the wrong to place to live...the list goes on. I am in crazy mode and still feeling this may be all too little, too late....I want something to go right because there's been so many disappointments. I need to man up. I need to be my own person.
But I am so shit scared.
F x
But I am so shit scared.
F x
Sunday 21 June 2015
Two weeks to go.
I move in two weeks time to start my new job and I am still so nervous and anxious about what is about to happen. I have spent the weekend in London catching up with friends who are all so excited for me but I can't help but envy their current positions in life. They are financially comfortable and have great careers. I am only just beginning and unsure if I will ever have a well paid job, my own house and a partner - all those things the people surrounding me have. It's sending my anxiety wild, I keep going over how much time I have wasted. What I am doing now could have been done years ago. I try to remind myself that at least I am doing it, attempting a life of my own because at the end of the day what other option do I have? I am prone to going over and over the past, kicking myself over all the stupid stuff I have done, wondering why I allowed things to get so messed up. I feel unique to other people, sometimes I'm convinced I'm not normal because I dwell on things in such an extreme way. I can never relax and assure myself I am doing ok.
I want stability and to be able to look after myself without depending on anyone else but I am so worried I won't be able to.
What the hell am I doing??
F x
I want stability and to be able to look after myself without depending on anyone else but I am so worried I won't be able to.
What the hell am I doing??
F x
Sunday 14 June 2015
Times are changing
I recently got offered a new job and everything is about to change. I will be moving in with strangers. I will be leaving home after being here for two years. I am going to be looking after myself for once and it's a whole new world to me. I go from excited, to nervous, to scared, to excited again about 50 times a day.
The first time I moved out of home was with my ex and I followed him around for 4 years before we broke up and I returned home skint, jobless and at a complete loss. It literally felt like my life was over and I had no idea where to go or what to do with myself. It's taken a good couple of years to pull myself together and feel confident enough to fly the nest once again.
It feels ridiculous to be experiencing this now at an age where I should really have all my shit together but sadly I do not and the only thing I can do is try. If I stay where I am then things will stay the same. I have to ignore all the fear and anxiety over going out in the real world alone. This is a massive step for me. Not only do I have a whole new job to learn, I have a whole new way of life to readjust to. I hope I can do it despite my natural negativity.
I have no other choice but to do this now - just bite the bullet and get on with my life.
I am going solo.
F x
The first time I moved out of home was with my ex and I followed him around for 4 years before we broke up and I returned home skint, jobless and at a complete loss. It literally felt like my life was over and I had no idea where to go or what to do with myself. It's taken a good couple of years to pull myself together and feel confident enough to fly the nest once again.
It feels ridiculous to be experiencing this now at an age where I should really have all my shit together but sadly I do not and the only thing I can do is try. If I stay where I am then things will stay the same. I have to ignore all the fear and anxiety over going out in the real world alone. This is a massive step for me. Not only do I have a whole new job to learn, I have a whole new way of life to readjust to. I hope I can do it despite my natural negativity.
I have no other choice but to do this now - just bite the bullet and get on with my life.
I am going solo.
F x
Sunday 7 June 2015
The Disastorous Dating Chronicles: The older guy.
I have been in this position so many times that I should be used to it by now but it never hurts any less. Get them violins out because I am about to whinge...
For the umpteenth time I have been screwed over by a man. Sometimes you can get the impression they are a waste of time but not this guy - this one was a clever one because he'd definitely mastered the art of charm. He knew how to say all the right things and I classically and unsurprisingly fell for every single word of it.
After many disastrous dates with men I decided to go for someone older. I'd heard older men were more mature and not one for playing games. So willing to give anything a go I went for a guy 12 years older than I. I am 27, he was 39....and to be fair he looked pretty good for his age.
Of course the first warning sign there was why was he single? Shouldn't he be married with kids? I did briefly question this in the early days. He was such a nice, funny guy it seemed odd that he was looking for someone. He told me that he'd had relationships before, yet they never went to the next level. I suppose that was when I should have considered he was scared of commitment but I never did.
You see his other clever tactic was telling me how much he was sick of being single and that he wanted to share his life with someone and that I - Miss Gullible - was someone he had a good feeling about. Oh how I blushed, swooned and giggled like a fool. He told me that week 1 of our...whatever we were...thing.
When I look back now I can safely say that was a "line" and it worked. Within a few weeks we were seeing each other frequently. He even drove all the way to see me after I finished work once just to have dinner and watch a movie before driving back. I saw that as a good sign he liked me, however that turned out to be the only time he ever did that. Every other time after that I drove to see him.
Our earlier dates involved going out and doing things but within a couple of weeks we only stayed at his place and he never seemed particularly keen to take me anywhere other than his bedroom. That's when I started thinking it wasn't right.
The daily texting began fizzling out as well. I began to notice that I was texting him first rather than the other way round and his responses were few and far between - nothing like in the beginning where I would receive lengthy messages every hour or so. Deep down I knew it was a bad sign but I liked him and thought perhaps I was being paranoid.
The lack of texting continued until eventually I did not hear a peep from him for a whole week. I'd asked him outright if he was still interested, he seemed to panic and back off. By that point I was confused as hell as to what had happened. Initially it had all seemed ok but without any warning he'd gone off me. In classic "frustrated single girl" fashion I cried, went over and over what I could have done wrong until I got angry at him and myself for falling for his crap. When I calmed down I wrote him off and moved on. I was still gutted but there wasn't anything else I could do.
So there I was just getting on with shit, knowing I would never see him again. Then out of the blue he text me. It threw me. What could he possible want? I thought he didn't want anything to do with me? What the hell? Of course there was that wise and sensible voice answering all my questions at once - "He's bored and wants an easy shag". I didn't listen to that voice. Oh no, the pushover, foolish side of me ignored it and I allowed him back in and the whole bullshitting process started all over again.
However this time around his urge to impress was lacking in comparison to last time. After pestering me to see him again I was promised a home cooked roast but he ended up ordering pizza. When I was promised a meal out, we ended up on the sofa watching a film aaaaand ordering a pizza. The last time I saw him we nipped out to Tescos - lucky me! And actually bumped into his neighbours, whom he didn't introduce me to. And that was another odd thing about him. He never introduced me to his friends or even mentioned that he would. Was he ashamed of me? Was he hiding something? These questions circulated my head several times and it wasn't long before the lack of texting started all over again.
I had seen this coming even though I was hoping it wouldn't and all over again I was wondering what I had done wrong. The only assumption I could make was that he had met someone else and was distancing himself from me because he was too scared to tell me. I saw myself as just someone that had filled his time with when he was feeling randy and couldn't get it from someone else. It was a horrible realisation and I went through the rollercoaster of tears and anger for the second time.
Dating an older guy hadn't been the experience I'd anticipated. I kinda felt that he would make a lot of effort and not play the stupid blowing hot and cold games but I was wrong, which I guess means that boys will be boys no matter their age. Of course I know that not all men can be this useless, I just seem to have the unfortunate luck of attracting twats.
Let's see what happens next...
F x
For the umpteenth time I have been screwed over by a man. Sometimes you can get the impression they are a waste of time but not this guy - this one was a clever one because he'd definitely mastered the art of charm. He knew how to say all the right things and I classically and unsurprisingly fell for every single word of it.
After many disastrous dates with men I decided to go for someone older. I'd heard older men were more mature and not one for playing games. So willing to give anything a go I went for a guy 12 years older than I. I am 27, he was 39....and to be fair he looked pretty good for his age.
Of course the first warning sign there was why was he single? Shouldn't he be married with kids? I did briefly question this in the early days. He was such a nice, funny guy it seemed odd that he was looking for someone. He told me that he'd had relationships before, yet they never went to the next level. I suppose that was when I should have considered he was scared of commitment but I never did.
You see his other clever tactic was telling me how much he was sick of being single and that he wanted to share his life with someone and that I - Miss Gullible - was someone he had a good feeling about. Oh how I blushed, swooned and giggled like a fool. He told me that week 1 of our...whatever we were...thing.
When I look back now I can safely say that was a "line" and it worked. Within a few weeks we were seeing each other frequently. He even drove all the way to see me after I finished work once just to have dinner and watch a movie before driving back. I saw that as a good sign he liked me, however that turned out to be the only time he ever did that. Every other time after that I drove to see him.
Our earlier dates involved going out and doing things but within a couple of weeks we only stayed at his place and he never seemed particularly keen to take me anywhere other than his bedroom. That's when I started thinking it wasn't right.
The daily texting began fizzling out as well. I began to notice that I was texting him first rather than the other way round and his responses were few and far between - nothing like in the beginning where I would receive lengthy messages every hour or so. Deep down I knew it was a bad sign but I liked him and thought perhaps I was being paranoid.
The lack of texting continued until eventually I did not hear a peep from him for a whole week. I'd asked him outright if he was still interested, he seemed to panic and back off. By that point I was confused as hell as to what had happened. Initially it had all seemed ok but without any warning he'd gone off me. In classic "frustrated single girl" fashion I cried, went over and over what I could have done wrong until I got angry at him and myself for falling for his crap. When I calmed down I wrote him off and moved on. I was still gutted but there wasn't anything else I could do.
So there I was just getting on with shit, knowing I would never see him again. Then out of the blue he text me. It threw me. What could he possible want? I thought he didn't want anything to do with me? What the hell? Of course there was that wise and sensible voice answering all my questions at once - "He's bored and wants an easy shag". I didn't listen to that voice. Oh no, the pushover, foolish side of me ignored it and I allowed him back in and the whole bullshitting process started all over again.
However this time around his urge to impress was lacking in comparison to last time. After pestering me to see him again I was promised a home cooked roast but he ended up ordering pizza. When I was promised a meal out, we ended up on the sofa watching a film aaaaand ordering a pizza. The last time I saw him we nipped out to Tescos - lucky me! And actually bumped into his neighbours, whom he didn't introduce me to. And that was another odd thing about him. He never introduced me to his friends or even mentioned that he would. Was he ashamed of me? Was he hiding something? These questions circulated my head several times and it wasn't long before the lack of texting started all over again.
I had seen this coming even though I was hoping it wouldn't and all over again I was wondering what I had done wrong. The only assumption I could make was that he had met someone else and was distancing himself from me because he was too scared to tell me. I saw myself as just someone that had filled his time with when he was feeling randy and couldn't get it from someone else. It was a horrible realisation and I went through the rollercoaster of tears and anger for the second time.
Dating an older guy hadn't been the experience I'd anticipated. I kinda felt that he would make a lot of effort and not play the stupid blowing hot and cold games but I was wrong, which I guess means that boys will be boys no matter their age. Of course I know that not all men can be this useless, I just seem to have the unfortunate luck of attracting twats.
Let's see what happens next...
F x
Sunday 31 May 2015
Introduction
Hello, welcome to my blog...whoever is reading this :)
As you can see from the name, I do quite like cats and tattoos. This blog won't be all about those things though, fear not. I won't repeatedly post photos of cats and tattoos...I started this blog to write about my life, which sounds so self indulgent but I figured that whatever is going on with me is probably happening to a lot of other people out there too.
Here is a brief intro...
My name is Fran. I am a single 27 year old with a cat and several tattoos. I want to write about things on my mind; things that bug me, things that I love and things that I don't get. You can expect to see posts about dating, food, mental health issues and anything else I feel like writing about.
I hope you enjoy what I discuss and stick around.
F x
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