Wednesday, 24 June 2015

Morning Thoughts


It's early. I was at my desk by 7:45- not unheard of at the moment, and not painful because of my morning person tendencies- but still, frustrating. 

I carried my handbag, full of fruit and a pot of yoghurt for a desk-breakfast. And my running kit, as I'd promised I would. We'd agreed we'd run together. I'm not sure why I agreed- perhaps a strange kind of emotional masochism?

I sat opposite a woman I'd seen before. Painfully thin, she gets off at my stop, and I've seen her around the building. I have no idea who she is, or what she does, but we've sat opposite each other on a number of occasions. 

And today, a new face. A good looking guy in cycling clothes (on the tube?), who I spot sneaking glances at me. We get off at the same stop and he follows me down the street. I don't notice when he turns off, but I suddenly notice he's no longer behind me, and wonder. 

I get to the office. Doors unlocked, swipe access only. I was the last out last night, but G returned to lock up. I'm the second in this morning, and revel in the silence. Just me, my PC, and the clock noisily ticking away, reminding me that half of my team are likely to still be in bed. 

I breathe. Log in. And prepare. 

Tuesday, 9 June 2015

Morning Thoughts


Things have been strange lately. Some serious dramas have led to me pulling back from an awful lot of things- Facebook went about five weeks ago, this blog was taken down for a wee while, and about the only social media channel I was regularly updating was Instagram.

It seemed for a while that things wouldn't be the same ever again.

To be honest, it has actually become clear lately that they won't be. 

But this morning, I got up early. I crept downstairs, fed the cat, and made a cup of tea. I waited until my brother, E, appeared, and went to chatter to him as he got ready for work.

And it was this morning, as E sat on the stairs singing, and I danced in the hallway to the sound of his voice, that I realised. Things might be weird. Change might be afoot.

But as long as we have each other, we have it all.

Tuesday, 26 May 2015

Untitled

Found here
Why is it so much easier to write about difficult feelings and tricky decisions than it is to write about happiness?

I'm unbearably happy at the moment. So much so, it makes me nervous, and I find myself saying to A "You aren't going to leave, are you?". I tried to push him away by being horrible once. He just gave me a cuddle and asked if I was okay. Proof, if I ever needed it, that he probably isn't going anywhere just yet.

I think it's also that reading about how happy people are is actually a little boring. We like tragedy. We like drama. We like the stories about men who don't call after a date, about kissing inappropriate married men, about friends who are no longer friends, about incestuous webs of friends who have all slept together or lived together (these are all conversations I've had in the last six months or so).

We don't like stories about the way he and I do the crossword on the tube home, or the stories about how I fall asleep on his shoulder when we're watching Eurovision, or how we spent Monday morning making avocado and poached eggs on toast. It's not interesting. It's twee.

So what do I write about?

I'm bored of reading blog posts about lipsticks and wishlists. I'm bored of posts about products that clearly wouldn't have chosen unless they were sent for free.

So it leaves me here. Posting once in a blue moon about nothing in particular. Other than to tell you that lately, I feel like I have really found my people. Those people I'd run to whether I was happy or sad or needed help or needed a laugh. Their initials are oddly alphabetical. A. B. B. C. C. C. D. E. J. M. Occasionally there's a G in there too, though often not. Some live close by. Some live far away. ALL make me hideously happy. I spend little time with people who make me feel anything less than phenomenal- I've had friendships in the past that have made me feel dreadful about myself, where I find myself constantly competing, comparing, and finding myself wanting. 

Is this it? Is this what happiness is? Feeling content, and peaceful, and generally smiling rather than feeling anxious and confused?

Of course, it's worth noting that there's an element of this that is a medicated happiness. That a huge part of me fears the fact that this is a medicated happiness. Is it real? Is it an illusion?

I like to think it's real. I suppose only time will tell.

And there was a five-month saga, that left me confused and battered and bruised.  That left me feeling baffled and happy and rejected and empowered and oh.so.guilty. Always guilty. I have to keep reminding myself that I genuinely did nothing wrong. I was always honest, never cruel. But regardless, it has now finally, absolutely been put to rest, and the weight that has been lifted from my shoulders as a result is palpable.

Anyway.

What do you want to talk about today?

Friday, 17 April 2015

Independence

It's a funny old thing, independence, don't you think?



Over the years, I've been told off on multiple occasions for bottling things up, not letting people in, keeping things to myself.Not long ago, Mama CupandSaucer sent me a text telling me It's okay to let people look after you Alice. As long as you don't take advantage- which I know you won't- then it's okay to accept offers of help.

I'm ferociously independent. I have no problem with taking myself out for lunch, or coffee, or flying alone. I have problems with people trying to do things for me. I'm small, and sometimes that makes people think I'm dainty, and need looking after- and I like to prove that I don't, by standing on kickstools in five inch heels to put posters up, or balancing precariously on the edges of things so I'm able to reach something before some tall person reaches it for me. I brush it off when I walk into things, or fall over, or get hit in the face with a ball, because I can't bear to admit that I need help.

In fact, when I was interviewed for my current job, they asked me, "What would you say your biggest weakness is?". I thought I'd already messed up the interview by this point, so decided I had nothing to lose by being totally honest. "I won't always ask for help when I need it". I gave good examples, and managed to turn it around- and clearly, it didn't damage my prospects, as they gave me the job- but even now, my boss will sometimes say to me, "Why on earth didn't you say something?!" when I fill up during a one-to-one, or threaten him with the Nerf gun he bought me because I'm so stressed. I remind him that I told him on Day 0 that I don't ask for help, and he sighs, shakes his head, and reminds me that that's what he's here for. His job is to make sure I can do my job.

The problem is though- once I let someone in, and accept their help, I become scared of relying on them. I'm scared that I'll lean on someone too hard, and they'll step away, letting me crash to the floor. It's happened before, and it will happen again. When people ask me why I won't let them in- in the past, ex boyfriends have got very upset over it- I remind them that everyone leaves. And sooner or later, they up sticks (or, in some cases, I do), and they prove me right.

A is away at the moment, and I miss him. I miss him more than I should. I'm scared that I'm too reliant on him- but at the same time, I know that he and I rely on each other. We support each other because we get each other. And that's not me losing my independence. In the early stages of our relationship, A used to laugh at the fact that I'd have to schedule him in a couple of weeks in advance because I was so busy. Now, he's my three-legged-race partner. We look out for each other, knowing that if one of us trips, the other is there to catch them.

I'm independent. But suddenly, I've realised that being independent doesn't mean I'm not allowed to depend on someone else sometimes too.