Tag: Reflections

Late last year I met a friend in the pub for a celebratory ‘end of week’ catchup. We got our bitching about colleagues and various crappy work issues dealt with whilst the post work crowds rolled in, but as they started to head home to loved ones, or headed off for a night out on the town, we moved on to other topics; specifically Sunday mornings and just how much they can suck.

As a child, Sunday mornings were largely about going to church. Dressed in my best Sunday clothes, hair slicked down to look presentable, I was shipped off to Sunday School before attending the morning service. Sometimes the Sunday School kids would sit together upstairs and try not to giggle and goad each other through the service. Other times I sat with my parents and their big hymn books, singing the hymns and letting the words of the sermon wash over me, the prayers lulling me towards sleep. Then it was home and time to head off to visit my Grandparents.

I fell away from those Sunday mornings after leaving school; I think the presence of the church was more of a structure that my parents thought would benefit me, than a particularly strong belief they held and, looking back, I have to agree that it had it’s positives. But, ultimately, God lost out to the demonic attraction of alcohol and women.

And thus my Sunday mornings changed to be more about recuperating than worshipping, even when that included an early 7am start at my weekend job. Mind you, typically Sunday morning was already 4 or 5 hours old as I stumbled home to the accompaniment of the dawn chorus.

Then it was time for me to leave home and move in with my then girlfriend (and future wife), and Sunday mornings shifted once more. How long we could lie-in given that we’d only gotten home at 4am, and only kicked the last revellers out of our flat at 5am? Such were the problems of living in the closest flat to the high street, minutes from the legendary Cheers nightclub, where people would decant to ours and there was always one or to hangers-on to be found the next morning, face down on the living room carpet.

We moved a year later and as we grew out of the 4am finishes our Sunday mornings started to change as those late nights became more infrequent. More and more the long lies I’d gotten accustomed to shifted to more grown-up activities, liking getting up and ‘getting stuff done’.

A move to England sealed the deal, with new places to explore and only the two of us to explore them. Sunday mornings were still relaxed but started earlier and always with the anticipation of getting out and about. Faster forward a few more years and a small black furry creature brought Sunday mornings to life around 6am each morning whether you liked it or not.

Which is all pretty standard, life moves on, you change and adapt, your needs and desires change too.

And change they did once more. Since my divorce, and through subsequent relationships, I’ve been lucky enough to try some other Sunday mornings, lazing in bed with cups of coffee, or steaming mugs of tea, snuggled up on cold winter mornings talk about everything and nothing, big spoon/little spoon, early rises for cold winter walks before falling back into bed again to warm up.

I’d forgotten about that conversation until last weekend as I lay in bed, trying to figure out how bad my hangover was (not too bad thankfully) and whether I could be bothered getting out of bed. I had nothing planned for the day and with the remnants of the recent snow still limiting my options for getting out and about, I just lay there for a while and spun that conversation over in my mind, contemplating just how much Sunday mornings can suck when you are single.

I’m not sure exactly what it is I miss. I’ve been single for a couple of years (bar some dates here and there) and I’m perfectly comfortable in my own company most of the time, but I do miss waking up next to someone on a Sunday morning. I miss the gentle arguing about who has to go and make coffee, I miss listening to someone else’s choice of Sunday morning music, I miss the quiet conversations about life.

Sunday mornings were always the mornings you could take a little more time with, you could always lie a little longer on a Sunday. But I guess sometimes Sunday mornings are just a little lonely when you are single, when the bed suddenly feels far too big, the coffee too far away, and your lazy day fills with an air of melancholy.

It was with a sigh that I got up, slipped in to my slippers and donned my dressing gown. Coffee first, for one.

I don’t do resolutions, but I do have a few things I want to focus on next year. These are things that I’ll try, they aren’t goals, they are just things to have in mind at the start of the year. Some will stick, some won’t, and that’s all part of the fun.

Fundamentally I refuse to shape my life based on one day, but as one year ends and another begins, I can’t help but pause and take stock.

Material stuff

I’m pretty happy with my home, although I definitely need to have another clear-out of my clothes as I am still changing shape/losing weight, which is a good problem to have. Aside from that, it’s upgrades rather than additions that I’ll be looking at, possibly replacing a couple of IKEA pieces for something a little more stylish.

Life stuff

As I mentioned recently, life is good so I’m not really of a mind to make any changes or set myself goals for improvement, instead I’m just gonna keep on keeping on with all of the things that have gotten me to where I am today.

And yes, I realise how lucky I am to be in this position.

There will be some tweaks though; As I’ve already signed up to go to three classes a week at the gym, I’ll definitely need to be a bit better with my food and nutrition to fuel that additional exercise. With that in mind I’m aiming to spend a little more time cooking nice things (my approach recently has been very food = fuel) and as someone said to me recently, there is something wonderfully decadent about buying fresh ingredients and taking the time to prepare a nice meal for yourself, so I’m going to be mindful to do that now and then.

Mental-health wise I’ll be doing more things I enjoy and stepping away from some things that no longer really hit the mark for me (sorry Book Club). The ‘writing a book’ thing is still sitting in the back of my brain (two drafts sit gathering virtual dust as I type), but that notion falls into the same bucket as my ongoing ‘maybe’ about buying, and re-learning how to play, a piano; I think I need to be in the right mindset for those things.

Again, neither of those notions are goals, they will be what they will be and if they don’t happen, then it clearly wasn’t right time for them to be part of my life.

Aspirations

I’ve already reflected on my life and all I really aspire to is a couple of simple notions that have stood me in good stead in the latter half of this last year, which I hope I can remain mindful of in the coming months, and which should make 2018 a good year for me, and in turn for those I love and hold dear.

• Say YES more than no.
• Be happy.

I sincerely hope that 2018 is a good year for you all.

I don’t tend to post reading advice but this is a massively introspective piece about (fundamentally) my mental health. I process things by writing, I find more connections that way and I thought I’d share this particular set of thoughts. It’s based on various journal entries, collated and polished for publishing (I don’t write like this in my journal) and shared with a mind to others who may find the following 3000-odd words interesting or useful. YMMV, obvs.

“Life is a mystery,
everyone must stand alone”

Madonna

Nary a truer word has been spoken, life truly is a mystery at times and, between you and me, I’ve given up trying to figure it out.

To be accurate, I have been trying to give up finding any sense of higher power – be it fate, God, Allah, or Cluthu – for some time because, quite frankly, life can be such an utter shit show it’s hard to believe that anyone has their hand on the tiller. I’ve a few decades of presumptive knowledge that I’m still battling against but more and more I find I’m happy to just keep on keeping on. It’s not always easy though and there is a part of me that envies the true believers and their simple answers. It’s all part of Gods plan. Right?

I used to believe in God, or at least I went to church a lot when I was a kid, but then I discovered science and facts, and realised that whilst it’s an interesting read in parts, the bible is complete fiction based on the stories and letters of some men (and we all know how reliable and trustworthy men are…).

Yet it’s hard to not imagine that there is something, somewhere, a giant space slug perhaps, that is gently tweaking the events of my life into some semblance of order. Is that down to a deeply rooted desire to find an explanation for the unexplainable? Is it a symptom of my own lack of self-confidence? Am I really being left to my own devices to fuck up my life as I choose? That’s a LOT of responsibility so there surely must be something else running the show here, a Department of Life perhaps? Am I even allowed to call myself an adult, and how the hell do I know when I finally reach adulthood cos it sure doesn’t feel like I’ve managed that yet either.

Surely, SURELY, there must be some divine being, a guiding hand, that is carefully moulding the myriad moments and decisions that have gotten me to this point in my life. Who, or what, has been guiding me to be right here, right now? Ohhh I’m getting all religious again.

Recently some events have caused me to reflect on the past couple of years and no matter how I try to rationalise things there is a small part of my brain that is clinging to the hope that, actually, this isn’t all MY doing at all, it’s all because Cangelflup The Almighty Of All Everything has deigned these things to happen.

How else can I explain how various life events, some of which were planned, some of which were not, are all starting to align in a way that suggest that this is how it was all meant to play out? For, if there isn’t an entity, some cosmic sort or other, that is nudging things along in accordance to my place in the galactic gantt chart of being, then I have to take on the realisation that I am apparently an absolute genius that is so off-the-scale SMART AT LIFE ™ that I’ve not even realised until now just how much I’ve got my shit together.

And, dear reader, we all know that is not the explanation. My shit is most definitely still scattered all over the damn place (not literally, obvs).

Yet I can’t shake that feeling, the sensation that my life is starting to take a new shape, things are starting to align. Various past events, new things, and changes of some old (bad) habits; all of these changes that are disconnected from one another yet are all coming into play at the same time, and are combining to make my life… better… nay, GOOD.

Editors note: Bear with him, he does know that these things are, of course, connected because they all concern him, but he’s on a bit of a self-discovery kick at the moment. Either that or he’s had too much caffeine, you know how it goes.

Hey, I can read that you know! That Editor is so rude! Anyway, where was I…?

Ahhh yes, there are factors in my life that seem to be aligning.

On the surface they maybe aren’t all good things – I can thoroughly recommend you DO NOT break up with two partners within days of each other (even though you knew you had to) – but that was the choices I made because deep down I knew it was right for me. Those decisions were thought about long and hard and were, rightly, difficult to face. I guess that is a downside of being poly, being very honest with yourself and others about your emotions and actions can really REALLY suck.

But some of the other decisions that are now looking like they were, all along, part of some evil genius mastermind plan, were made on the spur of the moment.

I’m not good at making spur of the moment decisions

I wasn’t good at making spur of the moment decisions in the past but part of my counselling (one of the things which has definitely been a part of this overarching alignment) was to be more spontaneous. On the strength of that and some gentle nudging from a rather awesome work colleague (she knows who she is), I booked into a 10 week Bootcamp at a local gym. I had never done anything like that before and, 25 odd weeks later I’m still doing it and already agreed to switch to a newer monthly programme for all of 2018 and, even odder to me, I’m absolutely loving it.

Attending the gym regularly lead to a need to eat better so I’m able to do the type of high intensity interval training that Bootcamp involves, so my diet has improved. And because I’m seemingly incapable of not training until I am utterly exhaused I’ve had to be stricter on getting a decent amount of sleep lest I spend my weeks as a zombie. I’ll say this now, those people who say at least 7-8 hours sleep a night were really on to something!

Overall I’m healthier, fittier, lighter, and happier within my physical self. Not completely happy just yet but I can see and feel the differences and … well let’s get to the next item in what is rapidly becoming The Inventory of the Life of G.

A few months back a friend asked me if I wanted to go to a guided meditation session. I said yes immediately (cos spontaneous!). Since then I’ve managed to get myself into a daily meditation habit. Even if only for 10 minutes (current new app obsession is “Oak” btw) it lets me slow my brain down and bring my focus to the here and now, instead of going back over the past, or projecting into the future, neither of which are massively healthy habits for me. Going to the first guided meditation sessions also nicely aligned with the counsellor suggesting (independently as I hadn’t mentioned it to her) that it might be something to look into.

I’ll pause here for a moment and cast my net a little wider. If you have a friend or colleague who mentions they are either trying to lose weight, or work out more, or are trying yoga for the first time, or… whatever really… if you see a difference in them, tell them! Having colleagues and friends mention that I seem much more relaxed and happier, or my physio noting that I’d lost weight, gave me the encouragement to keep these things going. That passing comment holds more power than you might think.

Right, back to me!

Next up is my current abode. With an increase in my rent due I decided to end my tenancy and look for something else. Part of what attracted to me to my old flat was the space, it was big! But that quickly equated into a need to fill it with “stuff” because, well, it was a big space and I could afford it. A few months prior to hearing that my rent was going up I had read THAT Marie Kondo book (which is good but as with all these things, take from it what YOU need, it’s not a bible… ohh there’s that religious thing again) and started to go through all my possessions with a view of reducing the clutter and ‘stuff’ to just things I needed and things that meant something to me.

Inspired to take my ongoing de-cluttering a step further, and with a looming move now planned, I started to go through everything I owned. EVERYTHING. It wasn’t always an easy process, especially for the sentimental items. In fact at times it was surprising to find the sentimental attachment I had to the most inane objects. Yet once I was in the habit of assessing and considering all of these items, it became a fun exercise, and a bit of a challenge. Plus there was something really enjoyable at actually taking the time to look at things I owned and asking myself why I owned them.

Looking about for a new flat was both depressing (there are some truly awful places out there) and revealing. I already had a vague notion of downsizing (from my large two bed flat) and found myself choosing smaller and smaller places, finally ending up where I am now which is easily a third of the size of my previous place (if not smaller). The upside of having deliberately chosen to downsize is that I now find myself questioning my purchases much more often because I just don’t have the space any more. Do I really need THAT? Is it replacing something I already own, and if so, is it a better version of it? Will owning THAT be something I’ll be happy with in a years time? WHY am I buying this?

Equally living in a substantially smaller space means I’m keeping on top of household chores more as there isn’t any place to ‘hide’ things. For me a tidy home is a calming place, a place that I alone occupy. The lack of clutter makes it seem quiet and peaceful, my little sanctuary away from the world. It gives me space to be with myself and through that I’ve learned how to be comfortably alone, again something that I’ve struggled with in the past; although as with most things the balance is to have enough alone time to be content but not too much that I start getting a little out of kilter, turns out I need social interaction way more than I thought I did.

So far the theme of the year seems to be self-reflection which, whilst it can be good in limited doses, can also start to become a blocker if you try and second guess every moment of your day. More recently I’ve found that a mirror of how I believe I am seen by others (in the work place) has been far more instructive (and horrifying!). Watching a recent work colleague spend most of his time in an agitated, angry state, railing against all the (perceived) wrongs being done, made me realise how much I have changed in the past year and made it even more evident to me that I was doing something right. I sure didn’t wanna be THAT guy (and I have been that guy a LOT in the past).

Meditation has helped with this, and having some work colleagues point out my ‘new’ calm demeanour has re-enforced that even further.

Outside of work I now find myself far more willing to say yes to something on a whim, than go with my past behaviours of analysing everything and considering my options first. It’s probably the most fundamental change that I have noticed in myself and even though it does mean my calendar is pretty rammed full it’s of things that I enjoy and want to do (you don’t have to say yes to everything, choosing the right things to say yes to is just as important). Yet I’m still just as prepared to NOT go to something I committed to, or to turn up late to something which for me is a BIG DEAL, I am the guy who is always at least 15 minutes early. Ultimately I am allowing myself to fail which is a much much bigger deal to me than it probably sounds.

There are other things I’m noticing. I find myself smiling more every day. I feel more patient and calm, and I listen to myself a lot more as well. It all boils down to the realisation that I am finally looking after me first, and it all feels like the last couple of years has been heading towards this point. Sure there have been some crappy moments but that’s just part of life, and reflecting on the past year I realise that I’m happier that I’ve accepted that I’m on a journey, than of any of the specific milestones I’ve achieved.

Of course there is no guiding hand at play here, and I’m starting to accept that what this all amounts to is simply my acceptance of ‘this is life right now’ at play. Rather than my old view of rehashing my behaviours and actions of the past, whilst second guessing my future ones, I’m much happier to live in the present and find myself, more and more, being much more focused on HOW I spend my time, rather than what I’m doing. Does being here, doing this, make me happy? Is a very simple but powerful question.

It feels like this is where I should be. I’m in a place where I am putting myself first whilst making more of an effort to reach out to the people I love. I have some amazing friends, some newer than others, and their support and encouragement through this past year or so has been more beneficial than any of them realise. They are few but they are mighty and wonderful and generous, I’m very lucky to be a part of their lives.

Despite all of that, another key learning has been around how to be alone. It may sound like I’m avoiding that with such a ‘rammed schedule’ but part of my scheduling includes a level of cutting out time just for me. Sometimes I just sit and read a book, sometimes I go for a walk, sometimes I sleep in late and watch movies all day; regardless, I don’t plan what will happen on those days, I just spend them alone.

There is a tendency to view being alone as a negative thing and sure, if it is a permanent thing it can be, but a big part of me solving the mystery of my life has been learning to stand alone and understanding that I am the only person responsible for me. There is no grand plan, no supreme being or holy seer. We are all in this together but only I can look after my well-being, both physical and mental. I tend to keep the following in my head, a mantra if you wish (but this post has been far too self-referentially wanky so … maybe not).

There is only me. There is only today.

OF COURSE there isn’t ‘only me’, I’m lucky enough to have a loving and supportive family and a group of friends who would drop everything if I asked them for help. The amazing thing is that having spent the last year and a bit learning to be alone, I find myself far more open to the thought of sharing my life with someone else again. But that’s another topic for another day.

And OF COURSE there isn’t ‘only today’ but I find myself pondering the past far less often than I used to, and whilst I have plans I’m not as wedded to them because who knows what tomorrow will bring.

There are more cliches surrounding all this I’m sure, but overall I’m just struck by how the events of my recent life seem to have been converging to where I am now.

And then I realise it’s all down to me. I made the decision to get some counselling, I made the decision to go to the gym, I made the decision to move to a smaller place, I took stock of me and made some changes. And they worked.

I am happy and content with where I am right now. Something I’ve never really let myself be…. maybe the title of this blog is finally true.

I’ll close with another confession.

I have always been an emotional guy, I used to tear up watching Lassie and a few topics will always illicit a lump in my throat. I used to think that was because I was, naturally, just a bit sad. But I’m not, I’m in love. I’m in love with the world, I’m in love with my friends and family, hell I even love you for reading this nonsense (whoever you are).

I opened with a (deliberately cheesy) song quote, and I’ll close with another (less cheesy) that has been on frequent play for most of the year since these lines leapt out at me and helped me realise what I’ve been waffling on about in this post. I was grieving, grieving for the me that, somewhere along the line, I lost.

I’m so glad I found him again.

“My steps keep splitting my grief
Through these solipsistic moods
I should call my parents when I think of them
I should tell my friends when I love them”

Pinegrove – Old Friends

I don’t think it’ll come as any surprise that I take great delight in finding small improvements in the items I own, especially as I’ve written about this before. I’m always curious about this kind of thing, where design meets functionality, and the benefits it can bring.

That said, most of the time when it comes to finding simpler things I end up replacing something I currently use with a newer, better, item and that usually means accepting a compromise of some soft. The balance is finding where that compromise will give me better form or function, over the aesthetical elements of the item. It’s not often you find something that hits both (design aesthetics are a very personal thing after all) but sometimes, if you are lucky, you get both in one item, with improvements to function that also delights with form everytime you use it.

In my mind the merging of those two aspects of a product are the key to making something, like a key fob, delightful. I guess when people talk about product design, that’s what they really mean. When you use a product that works perfectly for what it was designed, that looks good and feels good, and you get a little moment of delight everytime? That’s the type of product I’m talking about. It doesn’t need to be big, or expensive, or flashy, in fact I don’t think those types of products would have the same sense of satisfaction as these smaller, simpler items I’ve been finding. Maybe it’s because they scratch an itch/remove a little moment of annoyance, but whatever the reason, it is immensely satisfying to find them.

For most of the things that fall into this vague category of “things I wish were simpler/better”, there is usually a driver for the change and it’s almost always a repeating annoyance that will eventually tip me over the edge (*). For everyday items (like wallets or key fobs) I’ve always managed to find a product that addresses my needs one way or another, and so I have to presume that I’m not the only person experiencing these (admittedly mild) daily annoyances or these products wouldn’t exist.

Mind you, the day I don’t find something is the day I become an inventor and make millions!

And yet it’s not always an annoyance that brings one of these discoveries to bear. Sometimes these useful things just fall into your lap even though you didn’t realise that the item they were replacing was in need of replacement. Of course when I say ‘fall into your lap’ what I really mean is that they are gifted to you by your parents when they return from their holiday at Lake Garda.

My parents are well-mannered, thoughtful and all round lovely people (I’m the black sheep of the family obviously). They are the type of thoughtful people who will always (even if you mention that they don’t need to bother) bring you back a ‘wee something’ when they’ve been away on holiday. I tend to get polo shirts, the occasional wallet, and the last time they returned they gave me a belt.

It’s a nice belt, black leather with an anodised buckle, Italian in style. It looks good as far as belts go but beyond that it’s just a belt, so when I got home that evening I dumped it on top of my chest of drawers with nary a thought.

The next morning I decided to try the new belt – purely because it was sitting there in view – and slipped it through the loops in my trousers. It was only when I went to buckle it up I realised there something odd… where were the holes? What the hell was this weird buckle mechanism all about?

Turns out that my parents had (unwittingly wittingly! According to my Dad, sorry Dad!) bought me track belt, an almost fully adjustable belt that uses a ‘track’ of ridges and a simple spring loaded locking mechanism, similar to a ratchet. This means it’s better than a traditional ‘hole punched’ belt because it’s far more adjustable, and better than a sliding/teeth gripping style belt as it won’t slip open.

I’ve worn the new belt almost constantly for the last few weeks and it was only when I went to switch it out for a brown belt last weekend that I realised that, without me really noticing, this new belt was actually fixing an annoyance, an annoyance I’ve lived with all my adult life; traditional belts suck.

It may be down to my physiology (I carry all my fat in my belly) but traditional prong and hole style belts are either not quite tight enough, or too tight. In the past I’ve just punched additional holes (my Dad has, for some reason, a tool for this exact job) but even then you are always compensating depending on the thickness of the clothes you wear, or (more likely) if you’ve just had a big meal or not.

Not so with a track belt. The ridges inside the belt (the track) are usually only a few millimetres apart so it’s far more adjustable and after a couple of weeks going back to a traditional belt is an annoyance and doesn’t feel as comfortable or secure. Why would anyone want to use one of these?

I’m loving it so much I’ve ordered a second (in brown) and will ditch all my other belts in favour of these style of belts.

Simple things, small pleasures, every day. Delightful.

For those who liked the Trove wallet I mentioned previously, they’ve recently started a Kickstarter for a newer version. Not sure I’m a fan of them adding the pullout tab but I’m tempted to get one to see.