Fear.

“Does that frighten you?”, my therapist asked me in our reflective time at the end of our session.

“Yes.”, I replied; without even contemplating it.

“Good. It should.”, was her response.

Fear drives us forward.

Today, I’m driving and I’ll be full of fear. I’m doing a rail replacement bus service in London and I’m terrified. I was talking to a colleague about it and he said “You get a buzz; the unknown roads, knowing you might get lost. It’ll spur you on!”. There was a hunger in his eyes.

There are only flashing danger signs in mine.

For me, fear is very social based. Fear of rejection. Fear of not being good enough. Fear that someone will realise that I’m 23 and basically just winging it.

You can’t wing London.

Humanity.

“I’m done with humanity!”, I say at least twice a week.

“America is screwed!”, “This whole world is going to pot!” 

I could go on.

Humanity is a fuck up. 

Humanity is also:

  • A woman seeing a blind man’s shoelaces undone and stopping him to do them up.
  • A man getting off a stop early, in the pouring rain, and giving up his seat for a woman with a pushchair. 
  • A little kid wishing me a “good day driver”.

People call the seats at the front of the bus “the best seats”. But recently someone said that my seat is the best seat and I can’t argue with that.

From my privileged seat, I see humanity in its rawest form and I wouldn’t change that for anything. 

2017. A year of great change.

Happy new year everyone! This isn’t my first post of 2017 and it’s rather late on the whole “new year” front but it’s here!

2016 was interesting, I’d say it was the most life changing year so far (more on that in another blog post).

Today is blue Monday and I feel strangely positive about it. Rather aptly, I have a session with my therapist later and I’m excited to tell her what’s happening in my life.

I don’t fall into the trap of thinking that my life will be revolutionised in the new year; I am annoyingly realistic. I doubt I’ll lose 5 stone, meet the love of my life or take more photos but that doesn’t mean that change won’t happen. It’s happening now, I already feel much better than I did this time last year.

I can’t even remember this time last year really – without even noticing it, I think the depression has descended. 

That’s how I like to picture depression; like a black cloud. Towards the end of last year I learned how to move out from under the black cloud and how to make the black cloud less detrimental.

16 days into January and I feel changes are afoot. 2017 will be good, it’ll be a year to remember.

Dear DTB 

Dear DTB,

This is tough. This is like well done steak kinda tough. I mean I like my steak well done but I still want to be able to get my teeth into it. I can’t get my teeth into this.

People say that it’s a burden or emotionally abusive to say that a person is instrumental to their happiness. Unfortunately, despite its connotations, you are instrumental to my happiness.

I can only really gather the courage to write this because I don’t think you’ll ever read it. If you were to discover this I hope you wouldn’t realise that it’s for you. If you were to realise that, you’d be angry. “Why couldn’t you just talk to me?!”, would be your response.

I can’t talk to you though. Not now. You’re a teenage boy in a cave right now; agitated and isolated and you love it. 

I’m asking you to be someone that you can’t be, at least not yet. I’m not there yet either, my therapist calls it “fake it until you make it”. I’m faking it so much that I don’t think you know that I’m terrified like you.

You think I’m strong which is why you talk to me the way you do. I’m not strong, I’m barely getting by.

I wonder where we’ll be in ten years. Will we find this funny? Or will we still be bitter? 

I think we’ll find it funny. We’ll be different people by then. I’ll still be stubborn and you’ll still be grumpy but we’ll be a bit softer.

Years of “good living” and hindsight will have made us softer. 

I cannot wait until we’re softer. I cannot wait until life is how we imagine it to be. We’ll be the envy of people on Instagram (if it still exists) and we’ll be smug. We will be allowed to be smug because of all the shit we will have to endured to get to that point.

This is the shit and I’m sorry that right now even my name annoys you. Guess what, yours doesn’t make me best pleased either.

But when I think about my life at 33 you’re there. You are instrumental to my happiness and that irritates me so much. I’m stronger with you, and that bothers me. We’re better people when we’re together. We’re softer. We’re faking it less and making our dreams a reality.

This, right now, is shit. You’re being shit and I’m being shit. At least we’re consistent.

In 10 years time you will no longer be known at DTB; isn’t that a refreshing thought?

So I’ll let you be a teenage boy in a cave as long as you let me be a middle aged woman having a midlife crisis whilst going through the menopause. This is making us softer. The steak is no longer as hard to chew.