Dear the Wizarding World of Harry Potter

I've lost track of the number of times I've tried writing this letter. I just can't get my words to come out the way they appear inside my head. I'm kind of really tired, but I want to finish this before I go to bed. I've been trying to write this letter for as long as I can remember, and today seems like the day to get it done. Today I am 18, Harry Potter- or the wizarding world, or whatever it is I'm really writing to- and that's kind of important. I didn't really think I'd get to be here. If you hadn't be around, I guess I might not be.

I know I'm sounding melodramatic, wizarding world- there, that's almost short and snappy, we'll stick with that. I know I'm sounding melodramatic, wizarding world, and like I'm fishing for attention, but I'm not. I believe in being honest, and I believe in giving credit where credit's due. I may not know how to write this letter, but I know that I need it to be honest.

You were my Room of Requirement (get ready for the Potter metaphors, because I'm sure there will be an abundance coming right up). That is to say, you appeared right when I needed you; less like a space for the DA, and more like Dumbledore's bathroom, because I didn't know I needed you. I was- four, maybe? Little. Young enough not to really remember it. The Philosopher's Stone came out in cinemas, and we went to see it. Then we went to the library to start reading the books, or at least, for my dad to start reading them to me. I already said I was little. However, it seemed like everyone else had the same idea. The only book they had was the Prisoner of Azkaban- so we started with that one, and read the first three in reverse order.

That was one part of my life, wizarding world. There was another part of it, that wasn't so great. I'm a young carer (or I was; now I am a young adult carer). For as long as I can remember, I've been caring for someone with a mental illness. Mental illnesses are pretty damn scary when you're an adult and kind of sort of get what's going on. When you're a kid, they're a million times worse. It's all crying and being lonely and scared. It's confusing, and you have to grow up pretty quickly, and you just want to make everything better. Of course you can't, but you can try. I've been trying every day of my life, wizarding world.

Whilst I am on my soapbox, talking to the world that is most important to me, I would like to make it known that I do not bemoan being a carer. It is difficult, but I am not angry, nor is there any blame or judgement. It is rewarding. It is full of lessons, and unexpected blessings, and most of all love. If I could grant good mental health to the people I love (and to the world!), I would do it within a second. However, if I could not make the world happy, then I would not, instead, choose not to care.

Anyway, so there was that. A whole lot of stuff that I couldn't really understand, but couldn't avoid. And then- and then there was you. A magical world full of adventure. My Room of Requirement- exactly what I needed. Lesson one: you taught me how good books are for escaping from the world, when things get too much. I used you for that purpose a lot, extending your influence on my life far further than the pages. Things weren't always too fab at school, and it got a bit lonely. But it was okay, because, I wasn't Becky-the-weird-girl-on-her-own-in-the-playground anymore, I was Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her year and best friend to the Boy Who Lived. The concrete of the playground became moving staircases, and playtime after playtime was spent in magical lessons- not by myself anymore, but surrounded by hundreds of students, just like me. Magic.

No matter how scary and dark things seemed to get, you were the light switch I could always turn on (Dumbledore would be proud of that one, right?); always waiting for me with open arms. When I was sad, you held me; and when things were good- I don't want to make it sound all doom and gloom, there were far more good moments than there were bad- you were there to rejoice with me, too. 

My mum and dad- ever supportive and nurturing, ever fantastic and fabulous, ever every superlative ever- cottoned on to the fact that this was a love affair, and not some two-second fad, so helped me to explore. We went on trips to places used in the films; I played in cloisters, pretended to ride a broomstick. I had robes, games, figurines. For me, your world was as real as humanly possible.

Somewhere along the line, anxiety made me it's nest, and it hasn't given me up since. An anxiety disorder, they call it. It's something that a lot of people don't really understand- I'm sick of people telling me to get over it, or be positive, that they understand and that it'll be fine. You never told me any of those things, wizarding world. You were just there. You didn't need to ask questions about why the thought of death made me panic, or why I was suddenly certain my family would be involved in a car crash, or why I thought everyone hated me. You were the complete opposite to CAMHS and therapy, where they tried to make me talk and work through things; and yet, in your own way, you were just as helpful, if not more so. It wasn't just comfort I found in your pages, it was lessons, too. I learnt some of the best things from you- about hope, and friendship, and love. Anxiety will always be my personal Dementor, but because of you I know exactly how to cast my Patronus.

Individual members of your world had lessons for me, too. Ginny was my first feminist icon, refusing to be put down because she was a girl. As someone who enjoyed school, did well and suffered teasing for it, Hermione was my perfect heroine. Luna helped me to see that weird was not a label, but a valuable trait. From Ron, I learnt the power of friendship, and from Harry I took strength and courage. There was a lesson in every one of them.

When the Order of the Pheonix came out, it took me two seconds to fall completely in love with Nymphadora Tonks, and not very much longer to learn the section of the book in which she appears. I can't recall it word for word anymore; but I have a picture of Natalia-Tena-as-Tonks right next to my bed, and my dream magical power would still be to change my hair at will (though I do a good job of that without being magic). Tonks was partly the key to discovering my sexuality (cos let's face it, in a parallel world, we are SO married)- but, more importantly, she was the key to discovering me. And who gave me that world? You did, wizarding world.

As I got older, things got more difficult. I was just fifteen when I first started to hurt myself, out of anger and self-hatred and loneliness and sadness. By the time I was sixteen, I didn't really want to be here at all. Those are hard things to admit to, wizarding world. As I tried to save each and every person I loved, they were the Grindylows, trying to drag me back down. I don't really know where they came from either; Grindylows are complex creatures, and there's no point in wondering whether there was any cause or effect. What matters is that, with friendship, and love, and support, I managed to kick them off. I have scars from their tentacles, but I am stronger now. The Grindylows are always going to be there, in the depths of the water, and some days I can feel them tickling my feet- but I know the incantations I need to use now. If mental health is a Triwizard Tournament, then I am determined to reach the cup. You helped me with that, too; even if I didn't reach for you in those times, the words and lessons that you gave me were there. I am on the road called recovery, and I am taking a Fred and George approach of finding something to laugh about every single day. Oh, I am so indebted to you, my love. For those battling such Grindylows, I would like to take this moment to remind you that you are stronger than them; that there is always light to be found, even in the darkest of times, and that I am always around to share with you a little of what the wizarding world gave to me, if you should want it.

On a much lighter note, in there somewhere, my younger sister was born. She does not need you like I did, wizarding world, and that makes me more glad than anything else. However, even she is not immune to you. Having watched the Goblet of Fire years and years ago, she has decided she wants to be a dragon tamer (or possibly a ballerina) (or possibly both). I hope you save Charlie Weasley's job for her, because if there is anyone in the non-wizarding world who will achieve such a dream, it is my sister. She has more determination even than the characters you could offer, and she makes me proud every single day.

More recently, I have begun to see the importance in fighting. Like Harry fought Voldemort for killing his parents, I am fighting stigma and hatred, for hurting those I love- my beloved sister, my beyond-amazing parents, every single one of my family and friends. I want to see a world where there are no words we cannot name; where we can talk freely about what pains us, love freely who we want, and live freely. I want to get a tattoo of the word 'fight'. According to the dictionary, that word is to do with violence. You and I both know, wizarding world, that to fight is to live; to fight is to overcome the things that try to pull us down, whether that be Grindylows, or Dementors, or Voldemort. I will fight for love and equality; and when I place my flag down, it will be in your name.

I am Tonks, with my ever-changing hair and refusal to be called by my full name; I am Hermione, both clever and a friend; I am Ginny, fierce and loyal, and Luna, forever unique. I am a fragment of everything that ever made me, and you have more claim in that than most. I am not just Harry, but the wizarding world in it's entirety*.

I feel like I've reached a natural coda; to conclude, I want to tell you about the castle. A couple of years ago, we went to your museum- or to your experience, whatever you are calling it. For three hours, I lived the dream entirely. However, one of the best moments of my life will always be when I walked around the corner, and saw the castle. My mum, walking in front, said the look on my face was what made the entire trip worth it. For me, it was like coming home.

Yours, most faithfully, most thankfully, most entirely,

Becky

*But mostly I am Tonks, let's face it

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Closure

One of my favourite books is called Mockingbird. It's by Katherine Erskine, and it's beautiful. I would totally recommend reading it. The book is centred around a school shooting, and a girl with Asperger's syndrome who's life has been completely changed by the shooting. Mostly, it's about love, and loss- and closure. Closure's a big thing for me. I like to have a finality to things, like there to be an ending. Some people will say that closure's BS, but I disagree. To me it's important. The difficulty, of course, is that closure isn't automatic. We are humans, and life is messy. There will not be closure every time, and I really struggle with that. However, just because life hasn't given you closure, doesn't mean you can't search for it somehow. That's what I've been doing, today. The past week, my mind has been suddenly full with things in the past, things I cannot change and must move on for. It all happened for the right reasons, and I know that. But I've had no closure, and I'm finding it difficult to get my head off of all of it. So? So I've been looking for closure. I packaged up an envelope of memories, and got it out of my life. I sent a super-long email, finally explaining what happened and how I feel. I've found a song that means a lot to me, that can speak for me where words fail. Like a bird, ready to fly for the first time, I'm ready to spread my wings again. I'm ready to move on- I'll never forget the person I was, the part of my life I shared, the beautiful and wonderful messiness of it. I'll never forget how lucky I was, nor the lessons I've learned. But I can carry them and go on, too. I don't need them to burden me entirely. It's early days, but I think I'm finding the closure I was looking for.

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Revising... Or Not

Sometimes, one of the most important parts of revision is knowing when to stop. At the moment, I'm feeling a lot like I should be revising all the time. However, I also know that that's not healthy. Rest, and relaxation, are just as important for doing well in exams. Today, I had plans to do at least two hours of revision, if not more. It's not almost half six, and I've done about an hour, and that was less revision and more homework. I'm not feeling too happy with myself- but I think that, tonight, the revision needs to stop here. It's been a pretty full on week, with my first exam and S Club on the same day. With IDAHOBiT tomorrow, a very revision packed weekend and two exams next week, it's not going to get any easier. Right now, I'm feeling absolutely exhausted. PMS isn't helping; I've ended up having a pretty difficult day, and have eaten lots of rubbish as well, which hasn't really helped. I *could* try to revise for a couple more hours, and my brain is telling me that I should- but what good would it do? Nothing's going to go in, and, in this state of mind, I'm going to focus more on what I don't know than what I do. If I revise too much, I'll tire myself out even more, and tomorrow will potentially be even worse. So, it makes most sense to stop. I can take a break, relax and get an early night; then, tomorrow, I'll be rested, refreshed and far more ready to crack on with some good-quality revision. The phone is off, the bath is about to be run... Tonight, I am relaxing!

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Ten Things You Should Know

Sometimes my creative writing is purely fictional. A lot of the time it's not.

Ten Things You Should Know

1) On the last day, when I was a nervous wreck, I thought 'well, what's the very worst thing that can happen? There is nothing today that can go wrong'. That's what they call 'famous last words'. I still can't call it anything, but at least I can thunk about it now.

2) I keep finding new triggers. I didn't realise how much more nervous I'd become. Each one takes me further away from you, but each one is a reminder that, sometimes, distance is not just a good thing, but a necessity.

3) Break ups are freaking awful, mostly because most of the time I'm fine and doing well- but you're still at the back of my mind. It doesn't take much to bring you to the front. I'm okay, I'm well, but I'm smothered by the curse of remembering, too.

4) Despite what you think, I wasn't disappointed about not seeing you. I miss what we had and who we were. That feels like some forever ago now, and it's not the same as missing us now, or missing you.

5) I still believe in love. I just don't think I'll easily believe the next person to tell me they love me. I'm sorry if it hurts to know that. You kind of brought it on yourself though.

6) I'm marking out my territory again, renaming the constellations that were once ours. It's painful at times. Mostly it's a relief. The air smells like spring, fresh and hopeful.

7) I still don't believe you. I still think the least you owe me is a proper explanation. I'm not going to get hung up on it though.

8) The day I got my jacket back, I buried my face in it and it smelt like you. Then I put it back in the bag and refused to touch it. Three days later, I sprayed it with my spray, and hung it on my chair. I'm waiting for an excuse to wear it again.

9) No one quite gets it. Nearly, but not quite. That's okay. This is mine, and only mine, to get.

10) The best thing right now is reclaiming me. One day I'm going to change the world.

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30) Compliment 10 random strangers

***This is a scheduled post***

This year, I found this on Twitter. I did not make it, and unfortunately I'm not sure who did. All I did was find it- and let it change my life.

When I say 'change my life', I don't mean that I thought about it for two seconds, agreed with it, decided to follow it and never thought about it again. I mean that this piece of writing, and the sentiments behind it, are in my thoughts a lot of the time. I mean that I genuinely do strive to follow it's advice. From the moment I found this, I realised the truth- that one day, I might well get hit by a bus. Obviously, I hope that doesn't happen; it would be a tragedy, and there are no ways of lessening that. But, for me, it would be a far bigger tragedy if that was to happen and I had left things unsaid. It would then be too late. I am someone who likes to be in control. Getting hit by a bus is not something that one can control- but how much you leave behind can be. After reading this for the first time, I resolved to let people know how much they mean to me. I believe- and hope- that the people I love are in no doubt that I love them, because I make sure I tell them. I will write potentially risky texts- texts that, last year, I would never have sent- then hover my finger over the send button, still unsure. Then, ultimately, I will send them, because, as I see it, I might as well. People deserve to know how I feel about them, and how much they mean to me. If I can give them nothing else, I can give them that. This extends to people I don't know as well, too. For example, this year I gave a Christmas card to the whole Humanities faculty at school. As my tutor is a Humanities teacher, she shares an office with the other teachers, and there have been some times during this year when I have gone up there in a bit of a state, or feeling shaky- or the time I burst in because I had super good news, and I completely disrupted their working environment. Every time, however, each and every person in there is fabulous. If my tutor's there but doesn't notice me, someone will get her attention; if she's not there, they'll advise me on where to find her. They are, as I put in the card, always 'smiley and welcoming', to the point where they'll smile at me if they just see me around school. When things are difficult, these 'small' things are beyond helpful and reassuring. Hence, I felt the need to thank them, and though they may be puzzled by the card, I feel reassured knowing that I did so.
How does this all connect to Number 30, my goal of complimenting random strangers? Well, I have complimented far more than ten strangers this year. I have remembered this piece of writing; I have also remembered the effect that people being 'smiley and welcoming' (I feel I should add, though I mentioned the Humanities faculty in particular, many many people have been 'smiley and welcoming' this year). If I see someone with nice hair, or a nice jumper, I tell them. Why not? For all I know, that could make their day. What's more, it's not just about the compliment. It's about telling them that you've noticed them. That, in spite of the crowds of people we encounter every day, you've picked out them. That could be the exchange they need, for whatever reason. We are not solitary units, and we cannot live like that, even if we try to. We might as well embrace it, this strange and beautiful concept of humanity, and do what we can to help others, no matter how small our attempts are. You never know, you could end up in an interesting conversation (done that!) or make a new friend (sort of done that!). All by telling the truth, and letting someone know that you admire them, for whatever reason.
So, this post is partly me letting you know that I've completed this 'challenge'. It's partly me declaring that this isn't just limited to 2014- this is how I want to live my life, ensuring that the bus never takes me with words left in my throat. But, more than anything, this is me asking you to join me. Tell people you love them. Thank people who would never expect you to thank them. And tell each and every stranger with beautiful hair, an interesting jacket, a kind smile- tell them you've noticed.

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Turning Off

I'm the first to tell you that I really do love my life. I get to do the things I'm passionate about, I laugh multiple times every day, I have a thousand things to look forwards to, I start and end each day with a smile, and I get to share it all with some of the most amazing people on this planet. I really do love the life I live each day.
However, that's not to say that it doesn't get stressful, nor to say that there aren't bad times or problems. There are. At the moment, one of the things I'm struggling with is being constantly busy, and constantly 'switched on'. As a lot of what I do is based online, both in 'work' and personal, it can be quite hard to get away from everything. If I'm not at school, or at Brook, or Mentality, then I'm probably writing a blog for here or PBG, or finding an article to post to PBG, or responding to a notification, or participating in a late night discussion with my friends.
I'm not complaining about any of that, because I'm choosing to do all of it, but, as I said before, it does mean that I am constantly 'on', and even breaks can be quite busy. This is really tiring; it also means that, being busy, I don't always have time to give to people and things that are even more deserving of my attention. My sister, for example. I think I blogged about the time she wrote, in a school lesson, 'I love playing with my sister when she isn't busy'. Cue the sound of my heart breaking a little bit. My sister truly is the apple of my eye, and I hate to think that she might not see herself as being first in my life. I feel guilty about that quite a lot, though recently I have been tackling that by making sure I make time for her, with my phone off.
I also have to make sure I look after my mental health. If that slips, then I won't be able to keep doing what I do, and I really really don't want that to happen. One of the strategies I've come up for this is to turn my phone off as a form of self-care. Normally, this happens overnight (I'm a light sleeper, so if my phone is on I am easily woken up by any text, notification or other), when I have a bath (because baths are great for relaxation, and keeping my phone on is just counter-productive) and when I go for long dog walks (this has been a coping mechanism I've used for a while; it's just great to get out by myself, with just the dog and my music for company, and not have to worry about checking my phone). These times have really really worked for helping me to destress a bit.
Turning my phone off is great. It means I can give my full attention to the rest of the world, and it's giving my mind permission not to be constantly alert for the buzz that means I've got to attend to something. We live in a world where social media is taking over, more and more, every day. Whilst I can definitely see the positives in it- this blog being an example!- there's got to be a limit too. I need to stop being on the go. Over the past couple of weeks or so, I've been ill twice. I'm not sleeping so well. I'm feeling ratty and caged in quite a bit. It's becoming clearer and clearer that I really do need a break. So, with a trip away planned for the next few days, I've decided that I'm going to switch off. I'm not checking my Facebook, my Twitter, my email or even this blog. Aside from when it's absolutely necessary, I'm turning my phone off, and leaving it behind. I'm giving myself permission to relax, and to focus completely on me and my family. I'm really looking forward to it.

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Reunion

Today was thought-provoking. In the afternoon, I met up with some old school friends. I'm going to be really honest, and say that I was reluctant to go. This is nothing against them, they are all absolutely lovely; it was far more to do with me as a person. I'll explain that in a minute.

Anyway, I went. We spent a couple of hours in town, mooching around, then had lunch. That was pretty much it. I have to say, I'm really glad. Again, nothing against them whatsoever. Just me.

You see, being with them made me feel partly like nothing had changed. It could have been us two years ago, going into town on a Saturday near the start of Year 11. I guess that's not necessarily a bad thing, in fact I've spent a lot of time being pretty nostalgic about the past. However, nostalgia doesn't mean I want to relive it. I am not the person I was two years ago. I can't remember who that person was, really. It's only recently that I've begun to be able to look at myself and think 'yes, that's me'. It's been a huge journey, and one that I will continue, hopefully and probably for as long as I live. Feeling like it was just another day in 2012 made me feel like I haven't got anywhere, like I was stuck in the same place. That's the total opposite of the truth and I know it, but it was still a weird and uncomfortable feeling. 

However, in another way, it was clear that everything had changed, and that it wasn't just like going back in time at all. School friends are weird; they're people you're friends with because you all spend so long in the same building, really. Through that you have mutual events and people to talk about. Once that's gone, you have enough conversation for a quick catch-up, and that's kind of it. There's a bit of reminiscing too, but again, not much and it's soon over. You just don't have enough in common. The four of us have all changed considerably over the past few years, and now we no longer spend so much time in the same building, we don't really have much in common. It was very different.

Added to that was my feeling of being on the outskirts. I guess that was made worse today because we were in town, and town can often make me feel a bit weird and disassociated- it's like seeing the world through a panel of glass, or a little like being in a dream. That probably contributed to my feeling like an outsider. I think it also linked back to the fact that, in the friendship group I used to be in, I often was an outsider, for all sorts of reasons. Skip forward a bit and nothing's really changed.

Lastly, there are the 'me' bits. In general, I find it easiest to have a 'clean break' with people. By this I mean that once I'm through a particular stage or group or event or whatever, I would often rather cut my ties with people than stay in vague contact. I've not explained that very well, granted, but you get the gist. I'm not sure why, aside from that it makes processing emotions a bit easier, and I guess it gives me distance. Of course, there are exceptions to that- there are various people who I'm happy to stay in semi-contact with, and others who I really really hope will never ever leave my life.

As a result of all of these things, whilst it wasn't 'bad' as such to see my old friends again, and they are all totally lovely, it felt weird in ways I didn't like. Which resulted in a soppy post to the Cat Family as I realised how much better I fit in now, how easy it is to be with all of them, how much of myself I have become and how I never want to lose any of them.

After I left town, I went to my friend's house, and had a really lovely evening there. It was the perfect antidote to the afternoon's weirdness, and I am now feeling very blissful and chilled. At the same time, that was thought provoking in it's own way, because I realised that the me I was two years ago would not be in the same place I am now. I am so so much happier now, and I actually feel like things are coming together. The me from two years ago would not have been in the same sort of situation (just gonna allude to this one, if you know you know) that made this evening important. Now, however, I'm intensely grateful for evenings such as the one I had- and that made me so so glad that the last two years have happened and that I've changed.

Basically, it was a really thought-provoking day, and just made me feel really really glad that I live the life I live. Which is a pretty important positive thought actually.

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Be Thankful

Today I saw a display about keeping a gratitude journal- basically, keeping a record of things that you're thankful for. It's an idea that's been quite popular on social media recently, and I think it's a good idea. The statistic on the display was that a gratitude journal can improve happiness by 25%; whether or not that's true, my counsellor at OTR did point out that there seemed to be a link between my mood improving and my own version of a gratitude journal. At the time, I thought what I was doing was too small to have a real significance on my mood. Now, however, I am more self-aware and I do think it was a big help.

As regular readers of this blog will know, I am all for promising to do blog series and never following up on them. Therefore, I'm not going to promise a regular series or anything- I'm just going to post things I'm grateful for every now and again, and I would be thrilled if people want to join in as comment theirs.

So, things I am thankful for from this week...

- Shadowing a really fab guy for work experience

- The group I worked with at the Watershed (more to come on this one!)

- What can be produced when we work together

- Instant best friends

- Hard work that makes you feel like you're actually doing something

- Cute pubs

- People who go out of their way to welcome you

- Those who refuse just to take, but give back as much as they can

- Having a voice

- The amazing increase in my confidence over the past year or so

- Cucumbers, melons and cauliflower

- Amazing quirky cafés

- Hot afternoons by the harbour

- Good conversation

- Thoughtfulness

- The amazing shows out on by the school drama group; always with a message and something to think about

- Lifts home from GS, and friends who are always there to catch me when I fall, never judging, just comforting

- Having enough food, enough of the necessities, enough money

- People who refuse to let their struggles affect their selves

- Amazing friends and good parties

- PCH, for *having* that good party, and also for being awesome all the time

- Enthusiastic young swimmers

- Being able to resolve disputes

- Versatility

- Grown up conversation

- Dancing with kids like a kid

- Jumping up and down and screaming lyrics, because why not

- Catch ups with old friends

- Change and growth

- Later starts on a Sunday morning

- The completion of my swim teaching course

- The amazing events Bristol has to offer

- Independence- being able to enjoy an event by myself

- People watching

- Central library

- Walks around Bristol

- Wombbuds

- Angelberry

- Compliments

- Conversations that really make me think

- This blog- two years on, and I am loving it even more

- My bed!

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19th July: Write About Something 'Deep'

At the beginning of July, I sat down and wrote out my list of blog prompts. I'm not going to claim all the credit- I used several others as inspiration. However, it was me who collated the list I'm using, and in the order I'm using them. I tried to make it as random and theme-less as possible, just to keep it interesting. Weird, then, that this prompt came up just when I needed it most.

There are so, so many choices in life. There are the tiny ones that we make every day- for example, what cereal to have for breakfast. There are the choices that will have an impact on other choices, like what cereal to buy in the first place. There are the bigger choices- what to do with your life, whether to stay, whether to go. So many choices.

There are lots of people who will talk about regret, and say that they wish they'd chosen differently. A while back, I thought about that and decided it was a waste of time. Firstly, the choices I've made in the past are, as the sentence suggests, in the past. There's nothing that can be done to change them, so there's no point spending time worrying or thinking about it. In addition to this- humans are complex creations. We do not make our choices lightly, even when we think we do. We are always looking for what feels right, and we act accordingly. Therefore, every choice has reason, and that reason is the deciding factor at the time.

Of course, that's not to say that, in not regretting, I am removing the past as quickly as it happens. I'm not. What I'm doing is looking at it in a different way, finding the lessons in everything I'm doing and using those lessons to become a wiser and stronger person. I have found this immensely useful. I would recommend letting go of regret to everyone and anyone.

Lastly- whenever you are angry or upset or whatever with someone, and the choices they have made, remember that they have done what they think is right. That does not make it right; but it's a reminder that they are trying, just as you are. There are choices we will never understand, made by both ourselves and others. All we can do is proceed.

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Work Experience

Hola! I am very very busy this week- not only am I doing something every evening, it's also work experience week. Woo!

I did my work experience with the Bristol City Mission Service, who run a project called The Matthew Tree Project. They provide necessities (eg, food and toiletries) to those in need, a little like a food bank. However, unlike a food bank they also provide support and some signposting; sort of empowering people to do what they can to better their situation.

Highlights of my week? Well, in terms of actual good stuff, I enjoyed Friday, which is the day the clients are in and having their support interviews/collecting food. It sounds weird, but I also enjoyed helping to organise the food- it was methodical, which I like, and it just felt helpful! Plus any time I was chatting to people in general. I feel like I should include the weirder highlights as well- namely, the massive amounts of cucumber, cauliflower and melons, and the jokes that followed those!

I really really enjoyed my time at TMTP; I met some really really lovely people, and I hope to keep in contact and to continue working with them as a volunteer. The work they do is so important!! I've learnt some really valuable lessons this week and had some really fab experiences. Yay for TMTP!! (Special thanks to KV, the main person I worked with, who went out of his way to make my time interesting and informative and was generally amazing, and CF, another fab person working for TMTP who has a great enthusiasm for fresh veg!)

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6th July: A Piece Of Advice For A Newborn

There are many people who will try to convince you that this world is bad, or ugly. Do not listen to them. Be you, and realise that there is good and beauty in everything, if only you care to look.

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5th July: My Hero- And Why

This post would have been a lot easier to write had I done it before Thursday. However, on Thursday, someone said something that got me thinking about two people who were sort-of childhood heroes, who now make me feel ill. No prizes for guessing who one of those is. So that made me wonder whether we really should make people into our heroes, because you never know what's going to happen. It's something I've been chewing over, and it's something that I'm going to write a bit about in a separate post.
At the end of the day, despite cases where things go wrong, I still have heroes. I sat down to write this post, and I got through about three of them, and then I stopped, because I realised it was impossible. To write about each and every one of my heroes would take years, and it's a constantly growing list, and I'd still miss people out somehow. I'll leave you with this- my heroes do not wear capes. They do not have super-powers. If you asked them, they would say they have never saved any lives. But they have, for each and every one of them has saved me at some point. My heroes are all around me, some near, some far- some I come into contact with every day, some I've never met. I love them all.

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Ten Things I Have Learnt Recently

1) Sometimes there will be no way to do something 'right'; you just do what you can to get by and take it from there.

2) The important decisions are normally the hardest ones

3) Making friends is not as hard or scary as it may seem

4) It is possible to make a good film adaptation of a good book- as proven by The Fault In Our Stars (not *as* good as the book, but a good adaptation)

5) Being honest is hard, but in the long term it is usually better

6) The world is not black and white, or split into right and wrong. For every argument there is a counter-argument, and there is no way to please everyone. You just have to do what your heart says is best.

7) Behind every decision that you disagree with, there will be a reason. You have to accept that, just as you are doing what you can, others are living by the same idea.

8) There should be a word for the way it feels to miss Amsterdam.

9) Some decisions will make you cry a lot, but they still have to be made.

10) Picnics give weird tan lines, but they are more than worth it.

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23) Wear a scary piece of clothing in Bristol (crop top or shorts)

Post taken from Facebook. Would also like to add in- this was such a big anxiety thing. I hate my body so so much, to the point where I refuse to weigh myself because I know it will become too much of a big thing. I cannot look in the mirror and like what I see. I have big anxiety issues surrounding my body. For me, this was a really important item on my list of 50 things, and I'm so so pleased I accomplished it!!!

 

As a society, we are conditioned to believe that the way we look defines us. We cannot escape from it, and we cannot win- people are constantly being slated for being too fat, too thin. We are judged, instantaneously, based upon how we are presented. Does it really matter how we look?! Aren't our looks the tiniest parts of us, merely vessels to the amazing beings we are inside? I believe so, that true beauty is something felt, not seen. However, that does not grant me immunity. I still spend time looking in the mirror, turning this way and that, labelling myself as fat. I still try on clothes only to force back tears, acknowledging that my body is not perfect, that I should be hiding it in the best way possible, not letting people see my insecurities. I can tell from sight whether a dress will hide or accentuate my stomach, and if it's the latter, I keep a wide berth. But you know what? I've had enough. I am done with looking in the mirror and hating what I see, I am done with letting society dictate what I should and shouldn't be wearing. I want to be comfortable, and I want to be happy. When I body shame, I do no good- I'm not changing anything, I'm just making myself feel more down, and I am sending out the message to others that I too believe we are defined by our looks, that those lucky enough to have good bodies have a monopoly on clothing that the rest of us are denied. I am so sick of being physically scared by clothing that could show off my imperfections. So, I've decided to challenge that. For the first time since I really began to notice the hold society has on me, I have bought a pair of shorts. That in itself was a big step, trying to find a pair that I deemed okay. However, the next part was infinitely scarier. Today, in weather that made the thought of jeans unbearable, I stepped out in the afore-mentioned shorts, showing off my size 12-14 thighs to anyone and everyone. It was scary. I'm not going to lie. At first, I was sure everyone was looking, was sure everyone must be inwardly grimacing, wondering why on earth anyone larger than a size 6 would choose to show off their body. However, as the day went on, I relaxed. I met up with friends, and we had a lovely lovely afternoon. I quickly felt comfortable, and I realised it was okay. I was wearing clothes I had chosen to wear, not because of the dictations of society, but because of what I wanted. I wore shorts, and it was fine.
I guess I should probably tie this up with some kind of point. Here goes. What I am trying to say is that it doesn't matter. Size 6, size 16, size XXS to XXL, it does not matter. Your beauty is never defined by the label in your clothing, and the size of your body does not dictate what you are and aren't allowed to wear. You can choose to cover your body up from head to toe, you can choose to wear a bikini- but make that your choice, not the choice of others. Your body is an amazing thing- it's keeping you alive, after all! Don't waste time hating it, berating it for not being what can only be achieved through photoshop and careful photography. Do not turn away from that beautiful dress, your head full of negative thoughts about how it will make you look 'bad'. You like it? You get it, you wear it! I am learning to love my body, and I hope others will love theirs, too.

(Also, y'know what? This outfit made me feel fab. I looked like any woman enjoying the sun and being carefree. I like that.)

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Akala

Let's put it out there. I am not a fan of hip-hop or rap music. I am not a fan of the culture that surrounds it. I want to stress now that this is not intentional racism in any way, shape or form. It's just that a lot of the culture links to the exploitation and sexualisation of women; a large amount of the hip-hop and rap that I've been exposed to is really quite misogynistic.
However.
On Wednesday I went to the launch of Rife Magazine, a new online platform produced by the youth of Bristol for the youth of Bristol. It's all very exciting, and I was super-pleased to be at the launch. They had a rapper called Akala, who got up and spoke for a while before doing an a capella piece. His speech was really interesting and inspiring; he spoke about how he started off following the norms of the genre, but gradually came to see that he needed to stick to his principles. He talked about how he'd grown up with relatives who were involved in organised crime, and how they told him that, though he might think they were cool, they didn't want him to choose the lives they had; he also spoke about how he learnt about his own history, and didn't rely on the ethnocentric history delivered in the national curriculum (reminiscent of John Agard's 'Checking Out Me History'). Having been moved by his speech, I was even more moved by his performance, which was truly amazing. I've found a version of it on Spotify, and would really really urge you to have a listen- a little long, maybe, but utterly worth it!! Though my views on hip hop and rap in general have not changed, I am quite definitely a big fan of this!

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A Year Ago

I've posted quite a bit today, and it's late, and I really should be in bed. However, I wanted to get this post written, to commemorate what today and yesterday have been.
On the 14th of April 2013, I emailed my resignation from competitive swimming to the club chairman. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make, and one of the most important. It was a landmark, the beginning of the end. I had struggled with my ankle for ages, and it was so incredibly difficult realising that it could defeat me.
However, life went on. I carried on teaching, and I carried on living, and it was okay. More than okay: a visit to a specialist resulted in a diagnosis, a splint, and the hope of treatment. Remember the day I first wore my splint? It was amazing, to be able to swim again. However, it wasn't permanent, and within weeks my ankle was just as painful again.
I blogged about my last ever ankle appointment back when it happened, in January. At the time, it felt as if my whole world was crashing down. I remember trying so hard not to cry in front of the doctor, then getting out into the waiting area and crying and crying and crying. It's not the worst thing I've ever experienced- but it was hard, so damn hard.
Three months on from that, I still have days when I think about how I've got training, or wonder what will happen at swimming, or so on. Then part of me reminds myself that that's not how it works anymore. Last month, I announced at an important open meet that I'd previously swum in- and at the end of the day, there was nothing I could do but curl up and cry, because swimming in it wasn't an option anymore. It's been a form of grieving, getting over this. If that sounds like an exaggeration, think of an activity that part of your life is based around, then imagine that being taken away. It is hard. It is hard.
It's possible, though. I've taken up going on long walks with my dog, which keeps me fit. I teach the learn to swim group, I announce, and I occasionally coach the older ones, which means I'm still involved with the world of swimming. I keep in touch with the friends that I've made. It's not the same, but it's possible to carry on.
When I first acknowledged that I might have to give up, I wrote a letter detailing my thoughts, where I mentioned some quotes from Doctor Who. They're quotes I continue to find useful, those 'billions and millions of unlived days', 'all those days that never came'. I don't know why the quotes are so comforting, I just know that they are. Maybe it's because I like quotes based around living an infinity. Now I'm drawing upon other quotes, too, this time from The Fault In Our Stars, that 'some infinities are bigger than other infinities'. I am forever grateful for the infinity of swimming I got- an expression that couldn't be more apt, as sprinting fly feels infinite. No one is promised anything, and yet I still got this infinity, full of memories and lessons, and even though it's ended there are still the memories, there are still the lessons, and I'm still learning. The effect swimming has had on my life is infinite.
To finish with an adaptation of another TFIOS quote- 'you don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world', but there are still choices, you still get some say, and I will never regret my infinity.
Over and out x

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Goodbye 2013

So, 2013... What a year. So, so much has happened this year, and I can only hope that my 2013: Year In Review post has done it justice. However, I also wanted to do an overall post, like the one I did for 2012.

As I said last year, I love New Year. It feels so exciting, and hopeful. A fresh start is coming, and I want so much to make the most of it. Anything could happen in the next year. I want to embrace it.

2013- where do I start with you, eh? It's been a huge huge year of beginnings and endings. Earlier, caught in the nostalgic spirit of this time of year, I thought of all the people who I no longer really know- and for some people, that's something I'm quite pleased about (!), for some, it's been a huge thing to get used to- for example, a lot of my close friends from secondary school moved to different sixth forms, so though I still know them, it's not the same. There, I could name names, but I'd never stop, so I won't even start! However, I also want to give a shout-out here to my old Biology teacher, who left our school in the summer- she was the one who introduced us to BSL, which became such a big part of my confidence-boosting during the Leavers Assembly. Endings have also included leaving secondary school, and resigning from swimming, at least for the time being. Those were both huge things for me!

On the other hand, endings generally come with beginnings, too, and that has definitely been the case. I have met some amazing people- for example, the fantastic Womb Buds- and there have been some great beginnings in things such as sixth form and my AS level courses.

Of course, a lot of other things have happened this year, some good, some bad! I have definitely hit some of my lowest points this year- but I've some of my highest, as well. Once again, I didn't think I was going to get to here, to being able to see 2014 in. But you know what? I am more glad that words can say to still be standing. Highlights of this year have included Gambia, KT Tunstall, cats, flash mobs, BSL, Cardiff, prom, chat up lines, Laura Mvula, Bosnia, Holland, Gabrielle Aplin, folk, Music, Leavers Assembly, Westminster, support acts, mahogany, wombs, ALS, burlesque stripper songs, Charlotte Salt, emails/free periods, Signing Thursdays, Access to Bristol, Blakey... Need I go on?! I think that those far more than outweigh the negatives, and I feel this year has been one of my best. I've learnt so much this year, and I finally feel as if I'm growing into the person I was born to be.

I'm going to post my list of 50 things for 2014 sometime tomorrow; however, I guess my main resolution is, like last year, to be the best me I can be- and to always remember to live, laugh and love.

Once again, I will post this song, as it's one of my favourites and always fills me with the hope that New Year's inspires!

Auld Lang Syne- Lea Michele (cover)

I guess this just leaves me to sign off, and to wish you all a very happy new year. In the words of last year:

Thank you, so, so much to everyone who has made my 2013 so amazing. I love you all, more than I can say.
Here's to you, 2013. You've been a challenge, but you've also been rewarding.
Here's to you, and to all your 2013 has brought. I can only hope that it's been positive- and if not, that 2014 will be better.
Here's to me.
Here's to us, for being here, for doing this, this thing we call life.
Here's to all that's good in the world, from cats to mahogany and everything in-between.
Here's to you, 2014. Let's make it a good one.
xox

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Old News- But Still Awful!

I know these are old... But I forgot to post them before... Ooops... Anyway, these came out around the same time as my Hollister rant and they just add fuel to my fire!! Firstly, shocking comments from the CEO of Abercrombie & Fitch (which owns Hollister)- there's so so much wrong with this I just don't know where to start! How can this be allowed?! However, once you've read that and had your belief in the world reduced a little bit, also read this letter and give the woman a gold star!

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Hollister

Went to town with a few friends today; got some nice stuff, had a very good time. However, it also gave me something to think about...
I'm sure that most people have heard of Hollister, though if you haven't you can click to the Wiki link. Basically, it's a (very expensive) clothes shop, generally aimed at teens/young adults with a very heavy 'surfer' theme. It's also quite popular among my friends; personally, however, I dislike it.
Why? After all, I have admitted to liking (some of) the clothes, and I love the 'smell' of the shop. It's the less material- excuse the pun!- things I'm against.
Firstly, as I mentioned a few lines up, Hollister is extremely expensive. Want to buy a basic t-shirt? You could be looking at around £20. If not more. At worst case, hoody prices can reach up to £50; jeans go up to £80, and even bras peak at £39, with pants being the cheapest- currently £5 for one pair. To give a comparison, my current 'outfit' (t-shirt, hoody, jeans, underwear) cost about £25 altogether. Theoretically, I saved up to £169 (I say theoretically because in practice there's no way I ever would have bought the Hollister equivalents in the first place).
Think of all the things you could do with £169. That's 16900 penny sweets. There are families who could live on that for roughly 105 days*. That's almost a third of a year.
To make matters worse, more and more people are starting to see that cost as being justifiable. When my friend checked the price of a top today (a nondescript thing that's currently fashionable) she said, '£22- that's pretty reasonable'. Since when did £22 become pretty reasonable for a thin top?! I could find many similar tops much, much cheaper. But stick a bird logo on it, and it's like it's made of gold. When I pointed out that it wasn't 'pretty reasonable', I was told that it's good quality and will last a long time. Try telling that to my £3 tops that have survived years of my clumsiness. That top looked like it could have been carried off by the breeze. Furthermore, this was followed by the assertion that 'the price is good for Hollister'. Apparently, that makes everything alright. Can they not see that they are literally eating out of the company's hand?! I don't care that it's good for Hollister, because Hollister isn't good.
Want to know what makes me angriest about the cost of the clothing? The part that had me visibly shaking and feeling like I was going to be sick?
They use sweatshops. They charge hugely extravagant prices, and they use sweatshops.
I cannot remember the last time I was this angry.
Another grudge I hold against Hollister is their employment procedure. Of course, we all know that in today's developed world, it's considered completely immoral to discriminate in employment, right? Wrong.
The people you see walking around Hollister- the sales assistants- aren't actually employed as such. In fact, their job title is 'model'. Which, technically, means Hollister can employ only the people they consider to be 'model-worthy'. In the past, this has meant that there has been discrimination over race, gender and physical features. This is so so wrong- yet, with the term 'model', they can basically get away with it.
Let's investigate this a little further. I think the least shocking fact I found about this was that males who are prepared to take their tops off are paid more. Firstly, this means that they're being employed based on what their bodies are like. This alone is awful. Secondly, they're being rewarded for adding to over-sexualisation and negative body images. It's sending a message out saying that it's a good thing to take your top off, and attract people in this way. It's wrong.
Furthermore, there have been cases of obvious discrimination in employment, where jobs have mainly gone to Caucasians. I thought we'd got over the idiocy that having a different skin colour or being of a different race makes us completely different. That belief was outdated from the start. Come on, world, we're better than that. Aren't we?
Similarly sickeningly, there have been several reports- and law suits- involving Muslim sales assistants- sorry, models- who, when employed, were told that they could wear their hijabs so long as they wore them in the 'correct' colours. However, in each case, though they followed this, the employees were then informed that they were breaking the 'Look Policy', and had the choice of removing their religious headwear or being fired. What choice is that?! Thankfully, in the cases I read about, the employees managed to sue Hollister.
More on the 'Look Policy': all employees have to wear either Hollister clothing or clothing that could be Hollister. They don't get given any of this, though they get 50% discount on some pieces. They have a strict set of colours they must abide to, and incredibly strict hair/jewellery etc. policies. Hair must be left down and make-up kept natural (small mercy).
Then there's the whole concept of employing people based upon looks anyway. The next time you're near a Hollister shop, go in (with a torch) and look at the 'models'. As far as I can see, none of them come close to being average. They're all incredibly stereotypically 'good-looking'; men with 'fit' bodies and shiny white teeth, women with long hair and stick-thin bodies. There are several huge problems with this.
Firstly, it makes it likely that the employees will feel pressured into retaining the right look to keep their jobs. This could lead to self-esteem issues which could become fairly serious. Whenever I go into Hollister, all I really want to do is hug each and every employee, and tell them that it's okay to be perfect.
Also, sure, the people who work in Hollister are good-looking. But, to me, they're a world away from the people who make up my life. And, I'm afraid, for me, beauty is most definitely in the eye of the beholder: it's the ordinary beautiful people who I would count as being truly beautiful.
Secondly, the majority of people who enter the shop will automatically compare themselves, generally leading to feelings of inadequacies- which, again, can fuel bigger problems.
To be honest, I could go on for a lot longer about Hollister and it's problems. However, I'm just getting more and more worked up, and it's probably time to stop.
I hope you've- I don't know, got something out of this, or realised just what's hidden by something that seems so innocuous.
I wish I could change so many things about Hollister. But, as it's been pointed out to me, there are just too many people who refuse to see the negatives. However, if I've made at least one person change their mind on this, that will be more than enough for me.
What are your opinions? Comment below! :)

*Statistic worked out using poverty facts and a money converter

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Dear Swimming

Having to say a form of goodbye to you is probably one of the hardest things I've had to do- yet I know that, at the moment, there's no other choice. Which makes me very sad, but at the same time, I feel a little better, knowing that I've grown up enough to distinguish- in this case, at least- between what is easy and what is best.
I started swimming when I was six, and I hated it. I had to be convinced to swim every session- I did my best to cry and argue my way out of it. Then, when I got a bit better and started making friends, I enjoyed it a lot more.
One of my most vivid memories of my early swimming days is being in awe of the older swimmers, who were much taller, much faster, much more mature, much cooler; just generally better. I couldn't wait until I became one of those.
Though I had various friendships at the club, it was when I was around ten that I began making really permanent friends- that is to say, when I started to meet more of the people I'm very close to now. That was when I got noticed for being 'good' at swimming, too. I was entered into my first coach gala, which was exciting, though not a great experience- the others were much older, and didn't pay much attention to me. The only girl who I was near in in age was the girl I had beaten to prove I was 'good', so obviously she wasn't particularly thrilled to see me there. That was her territory.
By the next year, there had been 'exceptional circumstances' and a series of hushed up things. She quit soon after.
In 2009, I went to Italy for a swim camp. It was an amazing week, though there were bad parts, involving a lot of arguing. Despite this, a few of my friendships grew stronger, and I have some brilliant memories, such as being part of the 'Jane Austen Club' (myself and two friends sat writing, wearing huge hats), the bug-skirt incident and walking around Venice with the same two, the three of us planning our weddings.
I was overjoyed to become Girls Junior Club Captain; though it really meant very little, it was still important, to me. I started to hope that I, as others had, would go on to become Girls Senior Club Captain, as well.
It was around then that I got my first taste of relationships- funnily enough, my 'boyfriend' was the Boys Junior Club Captain. It all felt so significant at the time; much much less so now, of course. But still worth mentioning.
It was in early 2011 that things first began to fall apart- the pain in my ankle that I tried to ignore. It got worse and worse, but I didn't want to tell anyone. I didn't want to quit. I went away on an extended holiday, and when I got back, it seemed like everything was okay.
Well, more than okay. It was through swimming that I met the one person who taught me- completely obliviously- that it was okay to be different, and it was okay to be myself. That person, often referred to as *, is still someone I'd consider to be hugely important in me being able to tell others the things I knew about myself. She was, and still is, someone I care about a lot, regardless of the impossibilities.
This time was also when I started teaching the learn to swim group; firstly as an assistant, but eventually as a 'proper' teacher. I found that I enjoyed this immensely, and that- even better- I seemed to do fairly well with it.
That summer was when I was noticed for my butterfly, at the club championships. I was thrilled. I'd finally found something I could really do, and nothing compared to the exhilaration of a 50m fly sprint.
During late 2011, when things got worse outside of swimming, I kept going as if everything was normal. It was a safety net, of sorts. It caught me when I needed it to, without me even noticing.
In spring of 2012, it seemed that my luck had finally caught up with me. The ankle problem I'd ignored got a lot worse, and I eventually had to tell my coach.
I was referred to the doctor, for a scan, then to the hospital. No-one knew what was wrong, which made treatment very hard. I was told to take time off, which infuriated me, and take tablets. None of this worked.
In the club championships of 2012, I did very badly. I missed a couple of events because of my ankle problem, and I found it difficult to participate, which made me very upset.
By late 2012, though I was still training, it was at a much reduced rate. I was happy that I still got to see my friends, but the hospital seemed to be doing very little, and it was a very difficult time.
Finally, in early 2013, I was given a steroid injection that was meant to 'fix' everything, and would mean I could return to swimming properly. I started to plan for my return, hoping I could soon get back into the swing of things.
However, when I returned, my ankle was no better. I had to accept that, though other solutions could be tried, things might not get better, and I needed to prepare myself for this- leading to my resignation from the club, at least in my capacity of a swimmer.
It was one of the hardest choices I've ever had to make- the conscious decision, knowing what I was doing would upset me. Yet it was still better than the other, than to carry on hoping, knowing this may be in vain.
Recently, I posted some quotes on this blog, taken from Doctor Who, about the difference between 'what was, and what should have been', and about 'a whole future that never happened'. I think it's that reason, the what should have been, that makes choices like this so hard. We can never stop thinking about what could be, what- if everything was fair- would have happened. I know now that I will never be Girls Senior Club Captain, as I had hoped; that it is unlikely I will ever break 36 seconds on my 50m fly, which I've been aiming to do for a while. That if my ankle doesn't get better, I would never trust myself enough to train for a lifeguarding job, as I've wanted to do for several years. I have to accept that, this time, that hug (from guess who) may really have been 'the last one' that I've dreaded so much.
Those are hard dreams to drop. 'All the days that never came'.
This isn't the only way to look at it, though. After all, I've managed to surpass expectation not only once, but twice; I know exactly what it feels like to fly through the water; I've made friends who, I believe, will stick together, and stick by me, for years to come; I've shared a million memories- the highs, the lows, the smiles, the tears- with the world's most amazing team-mates.
I've experienced so many things that, without swimming, I never would have even thought about.
And that is why, even though I'm sad now, I know things will get better. I've been lucky, really, time and time again, just to have this much- and if this is it, it's more than enough.
Though I still hope that, someday, somehow, I will be able to return to swimming, it isn't the end. I will continue to teach, and to help out. Hopefully, I will return to coach, as well. I will keep in contact, and I will pop up now and again, just to make sure I'm not forgotten.
Thank you, swimming, for everything x

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