I am no longer posting on this blog.
Please visit https://twidderslife.wordpress.com/ to continue reading about my life!
Cheers,
F x
Monday, 28 March 2016
Saturday, 19 March 2016
Bad days
I think one of my biggest regrets in life is never pushing myself sooner to become someone because I find as I get older that it is more and more difficult to be the person I should be.
F x
I am directionless. I am behind the crowd and unable to catch up because I still keep getting stuck.
I haven't just let myself down. I have also let my family down. I am not the daughter, sister, niece or cousin they deserve. I have nothing to show for my 28 years. I do nothing but daydream. I imagine a life I could have - a life that I will never have.
During my bad days, like today, I do wonder what is the point in trying. As much as I try to believe that I am not a joke, it's hard not to when I realise that I don't amount to much.
I'm sorry for the sad post today. I know it will pass...
Until next time.
F x
Sunday, 13 March 2016
Ideas
It was perfect. My life was truly perfect. When I look back, I could see that we were a family that if I wasn't already a part of, I would want to be. We were so sickeningly like those families on TV where we all got a long no matter what happened and everything seemed to work in our favour. There was never a moment where I hated being with them.
However, it seems that life was within a bubble that unfortunately popped, which allowed in an overwhelming amount of grief - a feeling I wasn't familiar with. It felt like I had been thrown in to unfamiliar territory. With all that sadness there was also the realisation that nothing remains perfect forever. Its amazing how quickly you can go from feeling blissfully happy and content, to bitter and miserable.
My Dad used to say, "Life is a Lottery". I didn't give that phrase much thought until now. Some people get great things whereas others, in particularly us, get the shit. I don't know why this had to happen. Of all the families it had to happen to, why us? I go over and over why and I draw a blank whenever I try to think of anything bad we could have done. Maybe we were just too happy and some one decided that wasn't fair? I have no idea. I just know that I hate everything. I don't think I have ever properly experienced hate until now.
I ache so much for how we were, but it is not the same and it never will be. No matter how hard they try to lure me back, I will not return. They don't get quite understand that it won't work. The life they are trying to build now can't compare to how it was. It was robbed from us. Someone took it and they won't give it back.
It kills me. In fact it has killed me so much already that I am no longer myself. I have changed everything so that I no longer resemble the old me who lived in that bubble living her life like it would be that way forever. How incredibly naive and stupid I was.
What is the point in happiness, I now wonder, when it is so easily destroyed.
Sunday, 28 February 2016
Confession time.
This is one of my most honest posts, one where I am opening up about my love/hate relationship with food and what I think about my body. I have wanted to post this for a while but never felt quite ready to until now. Please try not to judge me too much....
Ever since I was a teenager, I have had issues with my body and how it looks. I have always had a very warped perception of it, believing it looks horrible in comparison to others. I think many people have experienced this feeling when they were younger, but my poor perception has stayed with me well in to my adult years.
Anyone who knows me well, will tell you that I love food - it is a big part of my life. I get so excited about it and spend most of my time thinking about my next meal and what it will be. I love eating out or baking delicious treats to devour with my family or my friends. Every day, I will say at least three times or more that, "I'm hungry - what can I eat now?!" (Those who I work with now and those I have worked with in the past will confirm this!)
Yet as much as I love food, there have been times where I have despised it and seen it as my enemy. I have resented it for being so damn good and my absolute weakness. "Why", I have wondered so many times can I not just stop at one chocolate or not crave bad foods? Although I do eat fruit and vegetables, (because I frickin' love all the healthy stuff too!) I still want the bad stuff. I want crisps, chips, burgers, hot chocolates topped generously with cream, massive slices of cake, donuts and don't even get me started on bloody pizza....
I have gone from one extreme to another several times since my issues with food and weight began. I've gone from thinking, "Fuck it - give me all the cake!!" to, "Oh best only eat a can of tuna and some salad for lunch and not eat again until tomorrow..." I've either rewarded myself for eating loads or beaten myself up. In all honesty I have struggled to find a balanced attitude.
It started when I was 15 and I just wanted to be thin. Despite already being slim, I was looking at famous people like Britney Spears with her super toned stomach and desperately wanting that. I would do exercises just before bed and try my hardest not to eat sweets, biscuits or chocolates, which was tough in those days when there were plenty of them in the cupboards! This didn't work well longterm though. When I couldn't take the cravings any longer, I would try to rationalise it by going on some bizarre binge of just having bites of several chocolate biscuits, cakes or eating some crisps from a pack before throwing them away. After months of this, my Mum discovered what I was doing and tried to sit me down to talk about it, but I couldn't confess to her why I was doing it. I was just embarrassed as hell and promised not to throw food away anymore. (I did stop eventually because I felt guilty for wasting food and let's be frank - it was ridiculous behaviour...)
Realising I was going a bit bonkers, I returned to somewhat normal eating habits, yet I tried my hardest to do more exercise, constantly trying to not let myself go. I do remember trying to force myself to throw up whenever I caved big time and felt like I'd eaten too much crap, but I couldn't do it. After a while, the obsession with being thin soon died down as I became more focused on schoolwork, friends and boys.
A few years later when I was about to start University though, it returned. I think a lot of it stemmed from the magazines I read an awful lot during that time. It was the stories about Nicole Richie and her extreme weight loss that played on my mind and though I was a little sickened by her skeletal frame, I was also in awe at the same time. In a fucked up way, I wanted to look like her. I wanted to have skinny skinny legs, arms and a bony chest. Seeing Nichole as some sort of idol, I cut out a picture of her to put in my purse to use as my "thinspiration". That was the point where I firmly decided I was going to be skinny. When I looked at Nicole Richie and then at my size 10 body, I felt huge. (Of course thinking rationally now I know I looked perfectly fine!) When I discovered I weighed 8 and a half stone, I set myself the goal of getting down to 7 stone or less.
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| My first "thinsperation" - Nicole Richie |
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| 19 year old me - size 10 and before the weight loss |
My eating routine was incredibly dull. I started the day with a small bowl of Special K for breakfast and at lunch I would just have toast with some butter. For dinner I ate whatever, but made sure I only ate a few mouthfuls before I gave the rest to my then boyfriend or I just threw it away. If I got through the day sticking to that eating plan, I was happy. If I didn't, I panicked and lay awake at night beating myself up.
I was constantly weighing myself and scrutinising myself in the mirror, picking at "fat" parts of myself and wishing them to go away - I actually wanted to cut them off. When I wasn't fixated on my body I'd waste hours on the internet instead looking longingly at skinny celebrities. I remember even filming a fashion show at Uni and feeling envious of the models. I desperately wanted to be thin like them. Every time the scales showed I was getting closer to 7 stone, I felt determined to carry on with eating the bare minimum because I could see it was working.
By my second year of Uni, I had reached 7 stone. I remember some people had commented on how thin I looked, which made me happy. One comment that really sticks in my mind was when my brother greeted me one morning by calling me "Stringbean", which I brushed off casually but secretly I was ecstatic because it proved I was noticeably skinny. When I looked in the mirror, I could see I was too. My ribs and my collar bones were more prominent. In my mind, I was on the right track. Yet, it didn't quite feel enough. I started to wonder how I could possibly get my weight down to 6 stone.
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| My 21st Birthday, weighing only 7 stone. |
In amongst doing my Uni work during my second year, I also threw myself in to losing more weight, or at the very least not letting my weight go above 7 stone. Along with eating very little I went back to doing exercises every night before bed. There was a TV show I became obsessed with called Supersize vs. Superskinny and I was amazed by how skinny the girls on that show were. They were like sticks and I was so envious. If I wanted to be like them, I decided I'd need to really up my game. So, I tried my hardest to restrict myself to two meals a day. If I could, I would try get away with having a Latte and some sort of cereal bar. It was by no means enjoyable and I was incredibly hungry most of the time. My stomach would hurt so much with hunger pains, but I persevered. I saw the emptiness I felt as success. When my clothes started to feel baggy, I was on top of the world. However, on the days where I slipped up and ate far too much - which was usually when I returned home - I was distraught. I absolutely despised the feeling of a full stomach. I associated it with failure and getting fat. I cried with tears of frustration and longed to just not eat at all. However, I knew deep down I needed to eat. There was no way I could get away with not eating.
Halfway through Uni I was plagued with constant stomach bugs. I felt awful but disturbingly happy at the same time because all the throwing up made me thinner. One night, my Dad came to visit me at my student accommodation and he said I looked too thin. His concern worried me slightly but my desire to be skinny still held. Just before finishing my second year of Uni I joined a gym, feeling the exercises I did every night were no longer enough.
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| A photo from Uni. I was at my thinnest here.
During my induction at the gym, the instructor weighed me. As we both looked at the scales, the screen showing I was only 6 stone 12, I was pleased. The instructor wasn't though and asked why I was joining the gym when I was clearly so small. I shrugged, telling her I wanted to "bulk up a bit", which was a total lie. I guess I was worried she was going to stop me from joining but she didn't. She seemed satisfied with my answer and throughout the summer I used the gym as much as I could.
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Before I returned for my final year of Uni though, I suddenly had a change of heart. It was the weirdest thing, but I started to panic about the fact that all the weight loss had completely ruined my boobs. As in, they were non-existent. I'd gone from a C cup to an A and they looked horrible. It made me re-think my mission to be skinny and whether it was worth continuing. I was also bloody starving and sick of eating so little. Just like that, I began to eat normally and not care so much. I couldn't completely let go of the voice that told me I'd get fat for eating loads, but I blocked it out enough to spend my last year at Uni eating what I wanted and no longer bothering with exercise or the gym. The more I got used to eating what I wanted, the easier it became. It was tough when my small clothes no longer fitted and I had to buy new ones, but I was happy enjoying food and no longer stressing about calories and weighing myself all the time.
I kept this up for a good few years until I was a size 10 again - even my boobs returned! After finishing Uni I lived in Leeds and then London. All that time I ate what I wanted without giving it much thought. I still didn't like my body, and every now and then I'd consider going super skinny again, but I just couldn't be bothered and I loved food too much. I never counted calories or battered an eyelid when I ate copious amounts of pizza and donuts. I was pretty content and looking back at photos from that time now, I looked healthy (my insides probably weren't though!)
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| Happy and healthy at size 10 once again - with boobs! |
As far as I was concerned, I was no longer at risk of resorting to my old unhealthy habits of eating bugger all. But sadly, a couple of years on, something happened in my life that sent me slipping down that slope once again.
When I broke up with my ex back in 2013, I was deeply depressed. I couldn't eat because I had no appetite and within a few months, I was nearing 7 stone again. Though the weight loss had been unintentional that time, for some reason I felt I had to maintain it. As I recovered from my depression, the familiar feeling of needing to be thin returned. I was counting calories and trying to eat as little as I possibly could. I suppose it was a control thing. I needed to be thin because I didn't want other people to think I was letting myself go. I even had a new "thinspiration", which was the character Nina Sayers from Black Swan. I watched that film loads just to appreciate how thin she was. I searched the internet to find out how much she had weighed. I can't remember the exact amount now, but it was definitely under 7 stone. All over again, I was transfixed with wanting to be skin and bone.
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| The character Nina Sayers - another thinspo. |
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| 7 stone again after having depression in 2013 |
I was 26 by this point and eating little wasn't as easy to achieve as it had been during my Uni days. I was also living back at home and under the constant watch of my parents so I struggled to maintain a low calorie intake. My only option was to take up some form of exercise that would guarantee losing weight. That's when I took up running. (On this blog, I have written about my love of running, explaining that I started it to keep fit, but I also started it to achieve a skinny frame - may as well admit it now!)
In addition to running 3 times a week, I also ran after eating so much as a chocolate bar, out of fear of "getting fat". I also met up with an old friend who introduced me to Circuit training and because I was in awe of her toned body, I signed up straight away. I put myself under strict control all over again, throwing myself in to exercise and barely eating. It wasn't healthy, yet the desire to be thin blew all sense out the window. Most days for lunch I'd just have salad with tuna. I then started to cut down on carbs - never eating potatoes or pasta. Instead of normal bread, I'd eat rye bread. I tried to stop having so much milk, considering it too fattening. A lot of my friends told me off, saying I needed to eat more and not exercise so much but I took no notice of them because I was enjoying the results.
Inevitably the lack of fuel whilst exercising at least 5 days a week, began to take its toll on my body though. My periods stopped, my hair started thinning, I was having dizzy spells, feeling tired all the time and I struggled to maintain the running. It was at that point that I had two choices - to continue my unhealthy obsession with being thin, or accept that in order to run properly, my body needed a lot more calories than I was consuming. As I had a half marathon to run, I opted for the second choice.
Months down the line, I am now a size 8 and looking better than I was a year or so ago. I can't quite shake off the perception that my body is horrible. I have moments where I look at myself and dislike what I see, but I at the end of the day I just want to take care of myself and I can't fight my love of food any longer.
When I injured my leg at the beginning of this year, I was scared about getting "huge", but I think it was a blessing, as it made me re-think running and that I was probably doing it too much. Once my leg is better, I plan on doing only one run a week, rather than 3. I've noticed since I stopped running how much my hair has improved and my periods are getting back to normal. I think my body needed the break and it was a sign I was doing too much.
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| Me now - size 8 |
Now, I eat what I want without going too crazy. I try not to pay attention to calories and just enjoy the amazingness that is food. If I have bad days where I don't eat very well at all then I try not to dwell on it. I hope that I will continue this way and never go back to ridiculous eating habits and worshipping bony celebrities. Besides, everyone looks better with a little junk in their trunk! (I'm so sorry I just said that....)
It's all about finding a balance with food and exercise, and if I can achieve that balance I will be very happy.
F x
Sunday, 21 February 2016
The kindness of others
When something like dementia hits a family, its important to seek help and support - especially for the carer. A break, even for just an hour, can make all the difference for their piece of mind.
My mother's dementia gets worse by the month. She is now like a child, accept she is like a child that doesn't learn. You tell her things several times, but its unlikely to stick. She is even more dependent on my dad, more than ever before. There is literally no way she can look after herself and sadly, at the rate the disease is taking over her mind, I'm not certain my dad can continue to be her carer a year or so from now.
The kindness of others can be a comfort in such a horrible situation. Its heart warming that friends will gather and offer help in any way they can. These people I am most thankful for.
I think I can now be certain that my mother truly is gone and I miss her every single day. If I could go back to before this happened, I would have done so much more to be there for her and cherish our time together.
You never know when you're going to loose a parent, so make the most of it whilst you still can because sometimes life can be incredibly cruel.
F x
My mother's dementia gets worse by the month. She is now like a child, accept she is like a child that doesn't learn. You tell her things several times, but its unlikely to stick. She is even more dependent on my dad, more than ever before. There is literally no way she can look after herself and sadly, at the rate the disease is taking over her mind, I'm not certain my dad can continue to be her carer a year or so from now.
The kindness of others can be a comfort in such a horrible situation. Its heart warming that friends will gather and offer help in any way they can. These people I am most thankful for.
I think I can now be certain that my mother truly is gone and I miss her every single day. If I could go back to before this happened, I would have done so much more to be there for her and cherish our time together.
You never know when you're going to loose a parent, so make the most of it whilst you still can because sometimes life can be incredibly cruel.
F x
Sunday, 24 January 2016
Not running
I've not been a very happy bunny recently. I injured my leg during an 8 mile run two weeks ago and I don't know what it is or how to fix it. And whilst I am typing about this, can we just take a moment to wonder why physio is so bloody expensive? 40 quid or more just to have some person poke and pull your leg a bit to confirm there is a problem and you need to keep coming back every week to fork out more money....I am in the wrong job!
I didn't ever think to put money aside for an injury. I've been running two years and although I know no one is immune to injuries, I was quite lucky in that I didn't have any issues apart from a pulled muscle at the start of my training, which was easily fixed. I guess I started to feel immune and that I could run as much as I wanted without nothing going wrong. I wasn't completely relaxed though. I still stretched after every run and invested in a foam roller - I even started doing exercises a few months ago to strengthen my core. In doing all this, an injury was far from my mind.
So when I returned from the my run 2 weeks ago and felt pain in my right shin, I wasn't too concerned at first. I figured it would pass within a day or so. Even when I was literally limping to Tescos with my housemate to buy hot chocolate and Avocados (as you do...) I said to her I was fine and that the pain would soon go. Looking at me with concern and suggesting she fetch the car to drive me home, I knew she didn't believe me but I had faith.
A few days later I was managing to walk but there was still pain. When I tried to run it was even worse. That's when I realised it wasn't going to go away on its own. I spoke to others and they said I probably had shin splints. In a panic I googled my symptoms and actually convinced myself I had a stress fracture. I headed straight to the walk-in centre in Nottingham one Friday night and waited 3 hours to see someone who could do nothing for me other than recommend rest, pain killers and to see my GP if nothing improved.
Frustrated as hell I went to my GP and was still none the wiser after seeing her. She prescribed anti-inflammatory pills, rest and that if it didn't feel better after a couple of weeks she could refer me to a specialist. Why, I wondered, she couldn't do it there and then I do not know. I left and headed to the chemist for the pills which I am now taking and though they make me queasy, they do ease the pain. But I know it is still there and its pissing me off.
I have always loved running and what it does for my anxiety and depression. Yet I never realised just how much I relied on it to make me feel better when work or personal stuff was starting to bring me down. It was my way of coping, my guaranteed mood booster that lessened the burden on my shoulders.
I ran for that buzz and I now I miss it like crazy. I have been doing other exercises such as cycling, rowing and cross training, but nothing I have tried so far brings me the same satisfaction as running does. I find myself restless and emotional. Its only been a fortnight and I want to be better already. I want to be out there again but my leg won't allow it.
I just wish I knew what it was. If I knew what I was dealing with, I could take the correct steps towards healing but right now it is just a guessing game. And annoyingly whilst I am not running, I am becoming more and more grumpy and stressed.
I am an impatient person when it comes to not doing something I love. Therefore I am booking myself in for physio despite the blow my purse will take. Though I know I can do it through the NHS, it will no doubt take weeks or months before I see someone. I want this sorted. I want to be out there again along with all the other runners I see every day, whom I look at with overwhelming jealousy.
Until next time...
F x
I didn't ever think to put money aside for an injury. I've been running two years and although I know no one is immune to injuries, I was quite lucky in that I didn't have any issues apart from a pulled muscle at the start of my training, which was easily fixed. I guess I started to feel immune and that I could run as much as I wanted without nothing going wrong. I wasn't completely relaxed though. I still stretched after every run and invested in a foam roller - I even started doing exercises a few months ago to strengthen my core. In doing all this, an injury was far from my mind.
So when I returned from the my run 2 weeks ago and felt pain in my right shin, I wasn't too concerned at first. I figured it would pass within a day or so. Even when I was literally limping to Tescos with my housemate to buy hot chocolate and Avocados (as you do...) I said to her I was fine and that the pain would soon go. Looking at me with concern and suggesting she fetch the car to drive me home, I knew she didn't believe me but I had faith.
A few days later I was managing to walk but there was still pain. When I tried to run it was even worse. That's when I realised it wasn't going to go away on its own. I spoke to others and they said I probably had shin splints. In a panic I googled my symptoms and actually convinced myself I had a stress fracture. I headed straight to the walk-in centre in Nottingham one Friday night and waited 3 hours to see someone who could do nothing for me other than recommend rest, pain killers and to see my GP if nothing improved.
Frustrated as hell I went to my GP and was still none the wiser after seeing her. She prescribed anti-inflammatory pills, rest and that if it didn't feel better after a couple of weeks she could refer me to a specialist. Why, I wondered, she couldn't do it there and then I do not know. I left and headed to the chemist for the pills which I am now taking and though they make me queasy, they do ease the pain. But I know it is still there and its pissing me off.
I have always loved running and what it does for my anxiety and depression. Yet I never realised just how much I relied on it to make me feel better when work or personal stuff was starting to bring me down. It was my way of coping, my guaranteed mood booster that lessened the burden on my shoulders.
I ran for that buzz and I now I miss it like crazy. I have been doing other exercises such as cycling, rowing and cross training, but nothing I have tried so far brings me the same satisfaction as running does. I find myself restless and emotional. Its only been a fortnight and I want to be better already. I want to be out there again but my leg won't allow it.
I just wish I knew what it was. If I knew what I was dealing with, I could take the correct steps towards healing but right now it is just a guessing game. And annoyingly whilst I am not running, I am becoming more and more grumpy and stressed.
I am an impatient person when it comes to not doing something I love. Therefore I am booking myself in for physio despite the blow my purse will take. Though I know I can do it through the NHS, it will no doubt take weeks or months before I see someone. I want this sorted. I want to be out there again along with all the other runners I see every day, whom I look at with overwhelming jealousy.
Until next time...
F x
Tuesday, 19 January 2016
Unsettled
It might be January blues but it is certainly turning in to a tough month.
I can't recall the last time I have ever felt settled. It seems I always have something on my mind that I know I need to change. Once I have changed it, something else happens and I'm off again worrying and stressing about how to sort it out.
Currently there are changes going on at work and though I have known for a while they were coming, they are becoming more and more real this month. The team I've just settled in to is about to change. I am trying to come to terms with the fact I will no longer be able to work with one of the best Managers I have ever had as well as wondering what will happen to me. I don't know if I have to look else where or stay put. I don't know if there will be a job for me.
I'm dealing with the unknown and I hate the unknown because I always assume the worst. I have nothing I can control in any of it - I'm just waiting to be told what to do. I don't know how else to make a decision.
Its sad that it will all change. I only started in July but it hasn't taken long to become good friends with my team.
This situation has just further shown me that life never comes with any guarantees. Significant changes are happening all the time, more than ever before it seems. I'm losing grip on control and structure and I'm growing unsettled again. My mind is racing with what I should do.
I'm still trying to find my place in the world. It seems to be my ongoing battle. Sometimes its exciting but at times like these, its not fun. Its worrying.
I just want one thing in my life that is solid and consistent.
Until next time...
F x
I can't recall the last time I have ever felt settled. It seems I always have something on my mind that I know I need to change. Once I have changed it, something else happens and I'm off again worrying and stressing about how to sort it out.
Currently there are changes going on at work and though I have known for a while they were coming, they are becoming more and more real this month. The team I've just settled in to is about to change. I am trying to come to terms with the fact I will no longer be able to work with one of the best Managers I have ever had as well as wondering what will happen to me. I don't know if I have to look else where or stay put. I don't know if there will be a job for me.
I'm dealing with the unknown and I hate the unknown because I always assume the worst. I have nothing I can control in any of it - I'm just waiting to be told what to do. I don't know how else to make a decision.
Its sad that it will all change. I only started in July but it hasn't taken long to become good friends with my team.
This situation has just further shown me that life never comes with any guarantees. Significant changes are happening all the time, more than ever before it seems. I'm losing grip on control and structure and I'm growing unsettled again. My mind is racing with what I should do.
I'm still trying to find my place in the world. It seems to be my ongoing battle. Sometimes its exciting but at times like these, its not fun. Its worrying.
I just want one thing in my life that is solid and consistent.
Until next time...
F x
Sunday, 17 January 2016
New addition
"Because wherever you go, there will always be beauty"
A while ago I had "Je suis seule" tattooed on my arm, which is french for "I am alone". As I have gotten better, I have wanted to cover the statement with something much more positive. Though I still feel alone, I know I am not really. I have a lot of kind, caring and amazing people in my life who I can count on.
I have found as I go through life I meet more and more wonderful people. This tattoo represents that and that no matter what happens, no matter how dark my days can be - there is always someone there.
F x
Sunday, 3 January 2016
Meant to be?
Sometimes even when all the signs are there, it doesn't mean that it is meant to be - this is something I have learnt recently.
As a person who tends to put faith in the universe to provide signals to lead me in the right direction, this has thrown me. I have gone over it so many times; seeing all the similarities and things in common but there has been no attraction. And I do not believe you can ever force attraction.
I can't get past this problem. I swear there is something wrong with my mind, something wrong with me, to not feel anything. I'm angry at myself and a little pissed that the signs, though so painfully obvious, have failed me big time.
Universe, what are you doing to me?!
F x
As a person who tends to put faith in the universe to provide signals to lead me in the right direction, this has thrown me. I have gone over it so many times; seeing all the similarities and things in common but there has been no attraction. And I do not believe you can ever force attraction.
I can't get past this problem. I swear there is something wrong with my mind, something wrong with me, to not feel anything. I'm angry at myself and a little pissed that the signs, though so painfully obvious, have failed me big time.
Universe, what are you doing to me?!
F x
Tuesday, 29 December 2015
Ding ding....round 2
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
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
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
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