So Goodbye 2015 my Annus Horribilis...

So Goodbye 2015 my Annus Horribilis...

And from the worst year of my life and the pits of despair, I have clawed my way through the black sorrow to gasp a refreshing lungful of fresh New Year air.

And although my soul has been deeply scarred from my experiences, now is the time for rejuvenation, because this journey through hell did not come without lessons and revelations.

I have truly met myself for the first time, the personal me, the me that I think I am inside.  I like me, I’ve nestled in, I’m home.  The other me, that other’s see, seems like a stranger, an evil twin, with good and bad qualities, but still me, I’ll toy with that...

Last year I learnt that I’m a writer, I was always meant to be a writer,  I’ll always be a writer.

I’ve learned that I need solitude and space for creativity, but also people and experiences to build my stories with.

My Family and friends are the most important things in my life and nothing else compares, I’d give anything for them.

My body will reflect my genetics, lifestyle, and age which is as it should be.

My work will not dominate my life ever.  I will only work to the level required to fulfil my passions and earn the small amount of money that is truly needed to survive.

I will minimise my stuff as much as possible, because it is a pointless waste of space, money and time.

I like my garden, the birds, walking with my dogs, biking and big and small adventures.

My body may be aging but my soul is growing more full and colourful every day.

I will be a lifeboat for my friends and family as they have been for me, keeping me afloat.

I’m scared that I might have run out of time to learn all the things that I still want to learn, like French, Japanese, Spanish, Italian, American History, Graphic design, Dressmaking, British History, Greek Mythology and so many more things.  I’ll just keep reading...

This year my goal is to publish a book.

I will watch a movie every week, because stories and art together are good.

I don’t like sci-fi or special effects.

I only want to be friends with honest and genuine people.  I don’t care where you live, or what size you are, or what car you drive.  I just like interesting minds and kindness.

Shallow and materialistic people are boring.

Spending your life chasing money and following rules is a waste of a life.

I like to be fit and healthy, but I will still drink alcohol, eat junk food and sleep in till midday in the weekends, because that’s what makes me happy.

Crying daily is not normal for me and if it starts happening again I’ll make changes sooner.

Other people in the world are suffering a lot, this doesn’t ease my pain but it helps me keep things in perspective.

I’ll always be angry that men that kick balls and climb mountains are hailed as heroes but the huge sacrifices that Mothers make go unnoticed.

I’m really strong, but I almost broke.

There is comfort in the ordinary things like doing the washing and making dinner.

I will tread lightly on the world and hope the world treads lightly on me.

I believe in the energy and power of our minds and souls and that together we can achieve amazing things.

This year will be my annus mirabilis.

More than Words...

 

I’ve been through the clichéd experience of ‘finding myself’

recently, but before you start thinking I made a choice to go through this experience- no - I was dragged, kicking and screaming.  And, my version of ‘finding myself’ was not a search for the meaning of life, or long restful days meditating, or travelling, or any of those quite nice pathways to finding oneself.  My version of finding myself was instigated by my life just imploding, and me actually trying to find myself out of the scattered remnants.

When one’s life is shattered it quickly becomes clear what is truly important and what drives one to despair.  My loved ones have the capacity to lift me up and carry me through hard times and the power to totally destroy me.  Sometimes strength simply must be found from within; no-one can or should carry you forever. 

I have learned how much I depend on my loved ones and how much they depend on me, but this is not the full lesson.  The full lesson is that while my loved ones have the power to wound me with unkind words, I too have the power to hurt them with mine.  So when I felt hurt by words and festered away on them and let them boil in my mind, I took the time to imagine someone dear to me feeling the same way about some words I may have said. 

When you know your own intent, and inside feelings it’s horrible to think that someone may be affected by your words in a way that you never intended.  Assumptions are made that loved ones know you so intimately that they know more than words, they know the 'inside you' so they could never misunderstand your intent.

So how can I avoid making people I love feel bad?  I don’t want to bruise anybody’s soul. I’m especially bad at talking first and thinking later,  but if I censor myself will I still be the same person?  And who am I really?  Am I who I think I am, or who others think I am?  For instance I've heard quite a lot that I am 'harsh' which makes part of my insides ache, but I have to accept having heard it enough times that that must be how I come across.  So this must be a word about who I am even if I don't feel like that inside.  

What can I do with the bad things said to, or about me?  What do these words look like all together?  It’s easy to fall into the trap of blaming others for hurting you, but by contrast, defending yourself vehemently when the finger of blame is pointed in your direction. 

In an attempt to be my own guidance counselor I decided to write all the words about me down.  Luckily I'm blessed enough to have amazing friends and family who also say nice words about me, better words than I'd use to describe myself.  I gave myself a reasonable amount of space on a big piece of paper and started writing.  At first it was slow going, I wondered whether I could successfully fill the space.  I wrote words I thought about myself, words other people had said to me, words that are labels applied to me, bad words about me, and good words about me.  By the time I was finished I realised I had filled the space but could have carried on. 

There are a lot of words about me, and I didn’t feel bad about them at all.  They are part of what makes me a whole and truly authentic being. Having just nice words about me would be nice, but it would be only part of the picture. Words can hurt, and words can heal, but they are just words. They are words about me that tell a story, and I’m happy with how my story is going.   

Business Workshop...

Today I attended a business workshop organised by the Bank.  It’s

not my thing really to attend workshops and I can say that after 18 years of business it’s probably the second one I’ve ever attended.  I sort of got bullied into going by my very persuasive bank manager.  She’s a congenial woman and won me over with her non judgmental ways when she first met me and my husband.  On paper our portfolio probably looked good(not so much anymore) and I imagine she understandably expected to be meeting a more suitably attired couple  than me and my husband who were dressed in shorts, t-shirts and jandals.  Her shock was over in the blink of an eye and since then she has only ever treated us with respect which we return in kind.  Well actually I guess my emails could be seen as slightly offensive but she tells me that she laughs out loud at them and seems to take them in the spirit they were intended.  Jo’s been kind and helpful over the years, bless her, and consistently emailed me about attending their ‘biz’ workshops (see the way the shorten business to biz to make it look cool and fun?),which I feign interest in and then never sign up to.  This time she caught me off guard and called me.  She applied ever so slightly more pressure than usual and pointed out it was about cash flow and profitability.  I tried to fend her off by telling her that I was actually pretty fucking good at managing cash flow but that I just actually needed cash in order to do that.  She stuck to her guns and then delivered the final blow- there’d be wine and food for free.  Sign me up I said, after all I was in no position to parry with Jo, she held all the cards.  I made sure she understood I wasn’t going to turn up dressed like a generic business idiot and act all professional and inhuman- I’m not selling my soul for profit, I’m a human being!   

I’m not really sure what to expect when I turn up to the golf club for the workshop.  A lot of what I do expect is there.  The staff from the bank- not just the normal staff, the upper echelon- their uniforms are clearly higher quality signifying their higher importance.  Name badges and a list of attendees are neatly lined up on a table (complete with white tablecloth) by the entrance and I’m greeted by overly enthusiastic smiles of the staff.  The standard set up of tables and chairs with glasses and a jug of water on each, and the nervous tension of a bunch of strangers accumulating in groups in the room.  There’s coffee available to the side and eventually some sweet accompaniments.  I’m fortunate to sit down next to a pleasant and friendly girl who’s fresh into business but not a ‘climb to the top at any cost’ unbearable type.  The speaker starts making herself known by confidently approaching and making polite but purposed chit-chat.  Is it our first time she wants to know, and if so why.  I honestly tell her- it’s not really my thing.  She fixes a confident and challenging gaze on me, slightly tilts her head to the side and asks “why is it not your thing”?  Bitch!  I know her game.  She thinks I’m going to squirm and laugh, or look away and say something stupid like “oh I don’t know”.  Well she’s messing with the wrong lady.  I look straight back at her and  take my time to respond, I want the pause to linger in my intent gaze.  I confidently deliver my response “Workshops are just not my vibe”, which is the softer version of “eat shit bitch”.  She nods, says “OK” and turns away- she knows immediately that it is now futile to try and win me over.

The presentation begins with an introduction by another of the banking hierarchy, an old guy resplendent in his high quality, well tailored shirt and trousers in the bank colours.  The Bitch’s name is Shaz- short for Sharon.  We’re told that she used to be a personal trainer and that she would be making us exercise today (groan- I hate that shit at conferences). Over to Shaz.  Well Shaz comes to the crowd like a boxer to the ring.  She’s talking the talk and garnering the attention of an enthusiastic crowd. She’s from the UK and not from a good part she tells us, she’s proud, like hers is an amazing rags to riches story.  She does have the look of a polished ordinary stone, the aggressive very straight front teeth with short fangs either side, and the prominent sinewy muscles shown off so well in her quite tight uniform.  Shaz clearly likes to wear her uniform tight, the buttons of her shirt are straining and her skirt hugs her personal trainer turned banker body which she concedes is now under exercised.  On closer inspection one can see the tattoo, on her lower right calf muscle, showing through her stockings.  She wears a statement ring on her left ring finger.  It’s a thick band probably nearly a centimetre wide studded all over with what looks like diamonds.  I’m picking they are diamonds because this bitch means business; she wants people to see she’s kicking ass.  Still, she tries to pull off the ‘I’m cool and casual at the same time’ look by teaming her uniform with glossy purple flats and by wearing her blond hair in a casual bun.  She tells the crowd she’s managed pubs and nightclubs in the rough part of the UK so don’t mess with her.  I don’t doubt she’s tough and could be scary, but I’d rather she punched me in the face than use her powers for the soul less work she’s doing now.

Shaz starts talking about business profit and cash flow which is all pretty straight forward and boring.  I have to admit she’s a good, clear speaker that can keep an audience focused. Occasionally she chucks bags of jellybeans into the crowd for clever questions and answers- she’s shit at throwing.  I soften towards her when she talks about how creative people like her look at a spreadsheet for a bit and then go “nah, I’m bored I’ll check out Facebook and see what’s happening” , I can relate to that.  Shaz keeps banging on about delivering a ten star experience.  She brings it up every twenty minutes or so “are we all having a ten star experience?” She raises her arms as she says it and the vibe gets a bit like an Amway conference, I’m almost expecting some inspirational music to start-‘Simply the best’.  At the end of her talk she gets us some forms to fill out, feedback on the workshop we’ve just attended.  She reminds us that we’ve just experienced a ten star experience, I give her an eight.

Finally it’s time for the promised free drinks and food, and it’s well worth the wait.  With my glass of Sav I wash down a beef with blue cheese sauce slider, a crumbed prawn, and deep fried Camembert.  There was more food, almost as much as you could want and perhaps the best finger food I’ve ever had at an event such as this. I have a very enjoyable chat with Jo and the new business girl I met at my table.  I take the bank pen and name tag home with me.  Fuck Shaz, she tried to out bitch me but I met her bitch and raised her one.  I’m up for another Bank workshop though; they’ve got the money to cater the best food around, even if I do have to listen to Shaz the bank bitch.