This, Right Now

This has been one of my favourite songs for years... Given recent (or now not-so-recent) events, I'm amazed I haven't been listening to it on repeat for the last couple of months. Ah well, I can start now!

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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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Mirror Mirror: Body Hair

It's dangerously near midnight, I've got a super long day tomorrow, I'm exhausted... I really should be asleep. However, my body seems to have any ideas, and I'm feeling pretty bloody awake. Insert expletive here. On the other hand, this does mean that I now have time- so have a blog post. This evening, I'm talking about body hair :) Also- I feel I need to put a disclaimer- this post just represents my thoughts & feelings. I'm not talking for anyone but myself. Everyone is beautiful, and your choices on shaving etc. don't affect any of that. This is just my experience!

To talk about body hair, and my feelings towards it, we firstly need to have a bit of NotRebecca history. This probably isn't going to be fully coherent, never mind well-written. I've never really spoken at length about this, and definitely not considered posting it online. This is a bit weird, and slightly scary.
Anyway. NotRebecca history. So- I've always been the weird one. We know that, right? I embrace it. I love being weird, because it's who I am, and there's no changing that. However, it's not always been that way... The reason I embrace my weirdness so much now is because, once upon a time, it was the bane of my life. I've always been 'different', in ways that I guess I can't really explain. A bit hyperactive. Sometimes too loud; at other times very quiet. I become quite obsessed with things- Harry Potter, bears, hair dye... I wear the clothes I like. I'm not interested in fashion, or fitting in. I was never one to gossip over boys, or anything like that. Individually, it doesn't sound like much. When I read back over it, I'm just describing myself. But I'm 17 now, and my life is filled with the people I love; the people who love me back. It hasn't always been that way. Whilst I don't think I was ever bullied, there were lots of people, in primary and secondary school, who thought I was a bit 'too' weird. They didn't know how to react to me- so some of them weren't very nice. It was nothing major. In primary school, I remember playing by myself a lot- because no one else wanted to play with me; in secondary, I was aware of people talking about me behind my back. I was 'uncool' because I liked Harry Potter, and I liked school. There was at least one nickname that wasn't too nice. Again, it doesn't sound like much. But, at the time, it was difficult. At times, I just really wanted to fit it. I wanted to find out the secret to being popular, and liked- and, to me, that was synonymous with being good at- well, being a girl. That was what all the 'popular' girls seemed to have in common- that they were just good at being feminine. So I aspired to that.
How does this link to body hair? Well, when you're being teased already, you sure as hell don't want to give the people teasing you anything else to use. We were girls, hitting puberty. People were talking about periods, shaving and so on and so forth. I quickly realised that shaving was something that needed to be done- if I didn't, I was scared stiff that I'd be teased for my body hair, on top of everything else. To be a girl, you had to shave. That was pretty clear.
However, I didn't get how- and that scared me even more. I tried shaving my arm hair, because I thought it was too obvious; then I overheard someone making a negative comment about girls who shaved their arms, and I was terrified I would be found out. I shaved my legs- and left more small nicks than anything else. The girls in my class, and the shaved legs on TV, didn't have any of the small cuts that peppered my legs. I was worried that I'd be teased for those, too, for making it obvious that I shaved. Each one of those cuts was proof that I failed at being a girl- and each one could be ammunition for more teasing. Armpits I could handle, just about- but one day stubble, and I resolutely kept my arms down, just in case. Downstairs was too terrifying to contemplate, though, as a swimmer, it was unavoidable. I wore a swimming costume with shorts for a while, and avoided anything that said 'high legs'; much of my changing time was spent tugging at the bottom of my costume, making sure nothing could be seen, scared that someone would realise that- shock horror- there were a couple of stray hairs peeking out.
As you can see, it was a pretty fraught area. However, it wasn't just the opinion of others I was worried about. My own internalised views about body hair were pretty strong, too. Get ready- I associated body hair with those weird lesbian feminist things. Disgusting, right?! I couldn't possibly be one of those, nor could I internally identify myself as one. That was another reason that I shaved.
So that was the whys. That's my shaving story. However, over the past year or so, several things have happened. Notably, the whole lesbian feminist thing. Through being an out and proud lesbian and feminist, I've met some incredible people- some with body hair, some without. Last summer, I went up to London for two days, to hang out with some of the most amazing people I know. At the time, at least two of them had very visible armpit hair. I was fascinated, because, for them, it was such a normal thing. They were people I loved and admired, and they had armpit hair, and that was fine. For someone who had spent so much of her life seeing hair as a bad thing, associated with bad things, that was a really landmark point. Then, at some point around then, a friend posted a picture of her hairy legs on Facebook. The whole post became a bit of a battleground- but the stupidity of the arguments against body hair really got to me. 'Boys don't like it' sticks out in my memory as the main one. To me, this was important for two reasons- firstly, why the hell would I care what boys think?! And, secondly, even if I did, why should that change anything about how I act and I choose to appear? It's my body. I get to do what I want with it. Lastly, in September, one of my very close friends did an amazing speech on self love. For me, that was the final piece of the puzzle. My body and I- we don't get on. The body love is, unfortunately, not very strong here. But, as my wonderful friend pointed out, we only have one body. I realised then that, if I never tried to challenge my beliefs about my body, then I would spend a lifetime hating myself. That was a really scary thought. I decided I needed to change that, to get to a point where I was happy with the land I inhabit. From that realisation came another- how can I love my body when I am choosing to remove part of it every few days? How can I ever love my body when, really, I don't know what it is, in it's natural form.* In spite of the assumptions most people made- that I wasn't shaving purely to be an angry defiant feminist- my decision was fueled almost entirely by self-love. And that's one of the biggest forms of anarchy, really. Also, my experiences with both feminism and the LGBTQ+ community made me see that there really is no way to be a 'good' girl- that everyone is different, everyone presents differently, gender is a different thing for everyone.
After that, I let my leg hair grow. A while later, I let my armpit hair grow. It doesn't sound like much. For me, it was. For me, growing my hair was opening myself up to being vulnerable, and maybe being teased. But, I realised, I wasn't the young, scared girl I once was. I had become more comfortable in myself- I had embraced being weird. I was ready to let my hair down- quite literally.
As I stopped shaving just before the winter months, it was quite a while before anyone saw the fruit of my efforts (I know that sounds weird, but you get what I mean right?!). The first time anyone did, I was terrified. I was in a Law lesson, and it was hot, and I was wearing a jumper over my vest top. So- I took my jumper off. And? And the girls sat next to me started whispering and looking my way. It might not have been about me. It probably wasn't about me. That didn't matter- I was still convinced that it was. However- it was okay. I wasn't 13 anymore, and scared of being found out for not being good enough at being feminine. I was 17, and I knew that femininity was a concept and didn't define my self worth. I was 17, and I had chosen not to shave my armpits, and that was fine.
I rocked the unshaved look for a good few months, including a trip to Gambia that involved lots and lots of visible armpits/legs. I got some odd looks. I had to answer questions about it. But having the hair actually made me feel really empowered. I felt like I was kicking patriarchy in the face, just by wearing a vest top. It was cool, and I was in control. However, recently I chose to shave again. This was not a decision I made lightly. In terms of my legs, it was something to do with liking the feel of shaved legs. That sounds weird. But you get what I mean, right? For my armpits, it was more complicated. I have really prominent scarring on my arms, and that draws enough attention as it is. At the moment, I'm not entirely comfortable with that. Having armpit hair only made that attention worse, and in the end I decided that I needed to be comfortable with my scars before adding anything else to the mix. There was part of me that felt like a 'bad feminist' for shaving- again, this need to be 'good' at whatever I identify with and represent. Obviously, that's rubbish- there are plenty of feminists who shave, and plenty who don't. When I realised that I felt that way, I decided that it would be a good idea to shave again, just to try and get over this need to be 'good'. Right now I am choosing to shave my armpits and my legs. It's a flexible thing. I'm sure that in the future I'll go through times of being unshaven; and equally sure that I'll have times of being shaven. It doesn't change anything. It's just a choice I'm making at the time. And that's fine.

Reading over, I'm not sure that made much sense. It's late. I'm tired. It's a subject I don't feel entirely confident talking about, but one I feel I need to discuss all the same. Feel free to ask questions etc. Have a beautiful day, and big love xo

*This is just my experience- of course people can love their body and shave. These were just my thoughts at the time.

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Seeds

I wrote this many moons ago (okay, so maybe just over a year ago or so!), but I don't think I ever shared it. In keeping with the theme of the piece, life is a cycle, and right now it's relevant again. Hence, it feels appropriate to post it now, more than ever. Enjoy :)

It's life, isn't it: that things start, grow into themselves, take their course, then- ultimately, infinitely- reach their end. See, for instance, the sunflower, with a metamorphosis both terrible and beautiful.

To start, the seed in question must be lucky, to have fallen somewhere it can thrive- to have escaped being eaten, or lost, or destroyed. However, surely this goes without saying? A sunflower at the pinnacle of life is incredibly lucky, that's a given.

From there, a sprout forms, breaking the confines of the striped cell to put down roots in the very soil of the earth. Once anchored, growth can begin, a burrowing through the close safety of the birthplace and into the world above.

After the green bud has poked it's head up and out, it's attention is caught by the sun. It yearns to get as near to it's hero as possible, to emulate it in every way. Simply put, it dreams: and it follows those dreams. The stalk propels itself upwards, the petals- sun coloured, of course, always sun coloured- unfurling in silent praise. Once done, fully grown and in it's prime, then it can be happy, marvelling in it's accomplishments. It has emanated the sun in the best way possible, and it can settle into the life it has waited for, a life that seems will last forever, just like that glowing orb. Reader, when you stand in a field among the sunflowers, it is the sun itself that surrounds you, and it is infectious: don't you, too, feel that this state will never end?

Of course, there is a problem, with being in a state that feels as if it could last forever, and that is this: there is no such thing as infinite.

When the summer is over, the sunflower falls, tumbles, withering into something unrecognisable from it's former self. It has no choice in this; it must simply take it as it comes, trying not to feel bitter at fate, trying to resist the captivating memories of the golden days, threatening to overwhelm.

But at least it had them, hey? If it's better to have loved and lost, then surely it it better to have risen to the heights and fallen, than to have bypassed that completely? Better, to have been the sun, been the sun...? For without that, are you not- unlucky? And sunflowers, we have already agreed, are lucky. Better to have felt the pulse of the world, so you can keep it beating when the earth is dark.

For though they have fallen, this is still not the end: the sunflower is decaying- a grim word for a natural process, of reducing to the building blocks of life. Once there, they are part of the earth, part of the pattern- no more. No more? They never have been more than that. They are all they ever were, and they will continue to be: the way of the world is that nothing ceases. Take the water cycle, that relentless circle of lakes to vapour to rain to lakes. Take the sunflowers of next year, standing proudly like the sun, made of nothing less than their ancestors. This year's crop may have had their days of prime, but they are not gone.

And that's life, isn't it? We rise, we reign; we keel, and yet we continue.

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Mirror Mirror: Hair Dye

This is the first post of a series called Mirror Mirror. I'm hoping to use this series to share with you some posts about my appearance and body image, and the decisions I'm taking (or have taken) surrounding this. Seeing as this very blog is named 'Adventures with Technicolour Hair' and my ever-changing hair has become a pretty important and identifiable feature of me, it felt like the best place to start!! I've posted about my hair before- for example, one off posts such as this one and this one. In summer 2013, I even tried to put together a brief history of my hair- one that was out of date almost instantly! However, I've never spoken at length about how the hair dye really started, or why I do it. So uh- here you go!!

***

When I was 11 or 12, my cousin decided to dye his hair blue-black. I was at his house at the time, and so my aunt decided to give me a blue-black streak, too. At first, it wasn't anything much; but, after it was done, I remember marvelling at it. I loved the 'magic' the dye had done; I loved how I could make myself look different. And that was just with one streak!! However, the streak soon faded, and I wasn't tempted to dye it again.
Then, a little later in the year, I went to see one of the Harry Potter films with my friend. We dressed up: I went as Ginny Weasley, which meant dyeing my normally-blonde hair. Again, I marvelled, but it still wasn't anything big. I was dipping my toes in the sea of hair dye- but I wasn't ready to take the plunge.
Flash forwards a year, to when I was 13. For whatever reason, I decided I wanted more black streaks, so my mum and aunt attempted to lowlight my hair... Long story short, it resulted in a whole head of black, with grey roots. I convinced my mum to let me touch up the roots, but that was meant to be it. No more hair dye. At all. End of. Umm, until the next Harry Potter film, when I lightened my black hair with lemon and tried to make it red. I think that's when the hair dye bug started to take hold- when I realised the endless opportunities, to change my hair according to occasion and as the mood took me. There was just one more step to go...
At my secondary school, hair dye was okay- but unnatural colours were a definite no-no. So, when I decided I wanted to dye my hair pink, I couldn't just go ahead and buy the dye. I had to wait until school broke up for the summer- when I instantly dyed my hair (and body!) pink.

I was completely and utterly smitten, and couldn't wait for October, so I could dye it blue in the half-term. After that came brown, then highlights, then pink again in the summer.
After that, I kept it black for quite a while. However, I was desperate to be able to experiment further. In summer 2013, two things happened. Firstly, I shaved my hair off- making it easier and cheaper to dye my hair. Secondly, I was free of secondary school and uniform rules. Heck, that was basically permission to dye my hair as absurdly as possible!!

For months, I experimented far and wide, going every colour under the sun- including a festive red/green in the run up to Christmas. In the New Year, the dyes became less frequent, but change still occurred. I found favourite dyes (Live XXL is good; I detest anything L'Oreal), swapped hair tips with strangers (my favourite moment was bumping into two other people with the same hair colour as me; we swapped to discuss products) and discovered hair colour likes and dislikes (I like purple but my hair doesn't; I absolutely loved red at the time but it now has bad memories; pink is forever my favourite and go-to). Hair dye is a world far more complex than you would think, and not one I plan on leaving anytime soon.
But- but why? Why do I do it? Well, for one, I love the anticipation- choosing the colour I think will work best, rinsing it off and trying to gauge colour, then seeing the end result. Linked to that is that it's a good distraction- when I'm feeling crap, dyeing my hair gives me something else to occupy myself and it's a nice change. I get quite bored quite easily- and changing my hair is one way to avoid that. In addition, I see hair dye as a bit part of my expression. I am colourful and loud; my hair is no exception! I am on a journey to body positivity, but I am not there yet, so looking into a mirror and being able to at least like the colour of my hair is a big thing. What's more, it's sociable- if you have unnaturally coloured hair, you become part of a group. You get told by strangers that they like your hair. You stop others to ask what dye they use. It's great
In short, hair dye, to me, is change, positivity, freedom and expression. Bright, unnatural colours- and the dye that brings them- are as much a part of me as my nose or my legs: I would not be me without them.

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Midweek Music

***This is a scheduled post***

Have three of my current favourite songs. You're welcome.

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Thought for the Day

'no, no, it's not all random, if it really was all random, the universe would abandon us completely. and the universe doesn't. it takes care of its most fragile creations in ways we can't see' (R J Palacio)

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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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Stuck.

At the moment, most of the people in my year are finishing their personal statements, applying to universities and eagerly awaiting their offers. It seems like a day doesn't go by without someone mentioning 'UCAS' or 'application' or 'offer' or 'university'. It's an exciting process, working out what you're doing to be doing for the next three years. On top of that, Facebook is full of friends already at uni, posting pictures of their new friends and the events they've been to, talking eagerly about their new lives. Everyone seems to be moving somewhere at the moment. Maybe that's why I feel so stuck and caged in.
It's not that I'm regretting my decision to stay at sixth form for another year. Given the circumstances, I still feel that I made the right choice, and that it'll pay off at the end. It's just really really difficult to think that, in a years time, everyone else will have moved on, and I'll still be here. Still going to the same school I've been attending for the past six years (seven by then), living in the same area, doing the same things. I really do love my life, bu I want to stretch my wings. I want to start afresh, somewhere where no-one knows who I am. I want to find a city and make it mine, all mine, with no-one else able to take that from me. I want to make my own memories, with different people and different places, my head full of new sights and sounds. I want to grow up, and to fully become my own person.
All of this just makes me feel even more volatile and unpredictable than usual. I'm always in need of making changes- that's part of the reason I dye my hair so much, and has been the reason for several of my piercings. But right now all the body modification in the world couldn't make the world move in the way I want it to. I want to run away and join the circus, or learn how to fly a hot air balloon and make it all the way to America. Obviously, neither of those are possible, but I'm still racking my brains for something I can do, some change I can make to make this stillness more bearable. Throwing myself into Christmas is my plan for now, I guess. Focusing on my schoolwork, too, so that when the time comes I'll be able to go wherever I want.
Sigh.

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Disneyyy!

A couple of weeks ago, my friend JG turned 18, and had a Disney-themed party...

Getting Ready

Little Mermaid!

Bambi and Eeyore!

Merida, Bambi, Esmerelda, Eeyore, Maleficent

Bambi, Eeyore, Esmerelda, Ariel, Maleficent, Winnie-the-Pooh

LOOK WHO CAME BACK <3

MORE LOOK WHO CAME BACK <3

We Lost GS

Maleficent & Eeyore

Esmerelda & Merida

All the Disney!

Thank you so much to JG for a brilliant night!!

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Closure

     Take all the memories. Untack the photographs, one by one by one. Trace your fingers over each smiling face; remember the moment when the flash went off. Cheese: frozen in time. Flick through your old journals. Re-read your scribbled notes, your additions and highlightings, all those times you thought you'd never want to forget. Close your eyes- picture yourself back in each moment. Collect up your keepsakes, all the things you've scattered around the place- that hat, those postcards. Hold them to your chest, memorising the shape of each one.
     Now. Gather the items together. Lay out a piece of fabric, place your bundle in the centre and bring the edges up, shrouding the items until no more of the past can be seen. Take a length of ribbon and wrap it around, making sure the contents are secure. Fix it in a bow at the top.
     Pack up your collection of memories and begin to walk. Go as far as you can, as if by walking you'll leave all of it behind. Travers until night, then make your way to the top of a hill, somewhere you can see everything, but at a distance. Look out at the lights, a million lives going on that you have no part of. think of everyone you miss, everyone you're losing. Assign them each a light. Look for the furthest set of car tail-lights you can see. Stand there, focusing on it as it gets further and further. Breathe. Take it all in, inhaling the view like oxygen to your heart.
     Kneel down. Remove your bundle from wherever it's stored, and place it on the floor- carefully, like a baby. Pull the covering tighter- mother fixing child's blanket. Then, do what no mother should. Cover it in lighter fluid, or alcohol- whatever it'll take to destroy it. Strike a match, and hold it close. Stand back, quickly.
     Watch your past light up the world.
     Once you've made ashes of your past life, gather them up. Hold the dusty powder in cupped hands, waiting as the remnants of warmth escape. Imagine it as your memories taking their last breaths, the lifeblood slowly slipping away.
     Almost there. Take your lantern, and fill the small basket with the ashes. Dust your hands off, leaving no trace upon yourself. Once it's full, light the small flame. Hold the lantern as the hot air inflates the surface above. Observe the flickering of the candle- something so beautiful, yet so dangerous and untamed. Symbolism.
     When it's ready- not a second before, not a second after- let go. Let go. Let it fly, over the faraway lights, over the head of each and every person you've loved, carried by the carbon present in your veins. Watch it until it's gone: everything you can no longer hold. That's your life. Fix your eyes on it, unwavering.
     Once it's out of sight, disappeared like the headlights from minutes ago, turn away. Do not hesitate. Do not hold on a moment longer than needs be. Put the lights, the people, away from your mind. They are not there anymore. Start moving. Move on. Do not stop. You are done, now. Go on.

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HEATHER PEACE CAN WE JUST

On Saturday, myself and CF went to a very exciting gig- the one and only Heather Peace!! Anyone who's been following this blog for a while might remember some of the posts from when I first discovered Heather; if not, links can be found here and here!

For those totally confused- which is a lot of people!- Heather Peace is probably best known as Nikki Boston, the English teacher from Waterloo Road. She was also Sam Murray on Lip Service. However, in addition to acting, she is a singer/songwriter/musician, and has also become a bit of an LGBT figurehead. Heather Peace, aside from being at the very top of my 'celebrities I'm in love with list', is also one of my biggest role models. When I was struggling in April/May 2013, I listened to her first album on repeat, and it helped me far more than I can say. In addition, though I was largely 'out' by the time I encountered her, Heather Peace definitely helped me to be far more open about my sexuality, and it's largely as a result of having her as a role model that I can now be so proud of who I am! Lastly, if she hadn't been in Waterloo Road then I wouldn't have started watching Lip Service. Fav TV show right there!

Anyway, I was obviously really pleased to find out that she was touring and doing a gig in Bristol, and I was beyond thrilled when I got two tickets for my birthday! I've been super excited about the gig for a while, so my only concern was that it might not live up to my expectations in some way.

I really needn't have worried! From the moment Heather came onstage I was pretty entranced. Having spent so long watching Lip Service and Waterloo Road, alongside her music videos on YouTube etc., it was very weird to see her in 'real life'- but definitely good weird! She had the crowd on her side right from the start and it was easy to tell how popular she has become!

In terms of highlights of the night, it's really hard to choose. However, Fairytales- the title track from her first album- was particularly amazing; it's one of my favourite songs, and I've listened to it countless times, so seeing it live was obviously pretty fantastic! The Thin Line, the title track from her second album, was also fantastic, as was Love Affair With Misery, which had a melody that I really like for some reason. She also did three covers- Let Me Love You (originally by Ne-Yo), Go Your Own Way (Fleetwood Mac) and The Edge of Heaven (Wham!). Each of these was very good- I particularly liked the way she interpreted Let Me Love You, and the energy in The Edge of Heaven. In fact, the energy overall was fab!!

If I had to choose a favourite song from the night, I'd be torn between two. Firstly, We Can Change, which Heather refers to as a gay anthem, but says applies to any minority. This was her last song, and the whole audience (which was almost all women, many of whom were LGBT+) joined it- it was such a fantastic experience! For different reasons, In My Arms (from HP's second album) was another top favourite. I'm not going to go into the reasons as to why this was a fav; it's enough that it *was*.

After the gig, CF and I decided (um, okay, I decided, CF went along with it) to find the stage door. We- and a large number of others!- had to wait around an hour. However, we were eventually rewarded by the hero of the night herself! 

We queued up and it wasn't long before we got a chance to meet her! We both got her autograph, then had a picture together, which is now officially my favourite picture ever ever ever full stop. After that, I asked HP if I could have a hug, then thanked her for everything she's done. And cried a bit. Basically I totally embarrassed myself in front of her, but y'know. Ah well and all that. It was really incredible getting to meet her, because I genuinely don't think I'd be in the position I'm in now had it not been for her, both in terms of my mental health and my sexuality.

So that was that! Easily the best night of my life, for a million and one reasons, and definitely a memory to hold onto!! The whole thing just went far far beyond words really! (Resisting the temptation to let this post go into full on fangirl...)

BEST PICTURE EVER

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#ThrowBackThursday

***This is a scheduled post***

Last October half term, I went to London, to see the Harry Potter Studios. For someone who's a huge, huge, huge Potter fan (as in, words can't express how much that series means to me), it was an experience that I will never forget. It was so amazing seeing it all, and having it brought even more to life. I will admit quite openly that there were tears, particularly at the end; the final part of the whole thing involves going round a corner, and seeing a scale model of the Hogwarts castle. I hadn't heard about that bit, so I wasn't prepared. As I walked round the corner, I was walking by my mum, chatting. When I saw the castle, however, I completely stopped and gasped, unable to do anything but stand there and cry as I saw the place that has quite genuinely been my childhood. My mum turned round to see me, and told me later that the look upon my face at that moment made the cost, travel etc. absolutely and completely worth it. I will never experience a moment quite like that again, nor can I explain what it meant to me. Harry Potter has been a force in my life that goes far beyond words, or anything really, and I can truly say, hand on my heart, that I would not be who I am today without that world of magic. I think it would also be safe to say that I probably wouldn't be here, were it not for J.K.Rowling and her magical pen. Maybe those two facts help you to see the importance and impact of the series on my life; I'm not really sure what else to put here!
Anyway, at the time I was unable to post pictures, and as life went on I kept being unable to, for various reasons. Therefore, I thought I'd use the Twitter idea of a 'Throwback Thursday' to share the pictures with you all. I really wish I could post each individually, and write my comments about each- however, there are far too many, and it would take years! So here they are, in a slideshow; maybe at some point I'll choose those that mean most to me and say a little more.
Going to go now before I become an emotional wreck and keep blabbering on about just how much Harry and his world means to me. We all know- as I've said just now, several times- that I won't get close to conveying that. Over and out! x

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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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Half Term Pictures

I've almost reached the end of the first week of October half term, and it's been a nice one. Remarkably quiet compared to life usually, which has been weird, but it's been good to take a step back. With life being quieter than normal, I've had a chance to be really grateful for the little things that sometimes get overlooked in my hectic life. I thought I'd share them with you.

'The End'

This week has been the first week I've been able to experience one of my favourite autumn/winter things- walking to 'The End', which is near where I live, and looking out at the lights of Bristol. It's incredibly beautiful and calming and makes me feel really free and happy. It's one of the few things that is guaranteed to make the world feel like a better place, no matter what.

Hot Bubble Baths

A chance to get warm, and clean, and to de-stress and to smell fab!

Curling up in Bed

This is where I have spent most of my week. To be fair, I have been ill. This one's particularly good when it involves a onesie and Netflix. My bed and I have a love affair that will never be broken.

Autumn in the City

The leaves have been changing colour and falling to the ground- I love stomping through them, so crunchy under my feet. Autumn brings a colder breeze that feels just right, not too cold, not too hot, and that seems to make the world feel different.

Dark Evenings, Bright Lights

Anyone who knows me knows that I can't get enough of city lights, or of walking through the city in the dark. I've had loads of opportunities to do this recently, and I've loved each and every moment.

Jumper Time!

 It's finally acceptable to wear a jumper- perfect for cuddling up in. Not just that, but I got this raccoon jumper yesterday (or badger? Not sure, I'm calling it a raccoon) and I absolutely love it.

Toffee Apples

 I had my first toffee apple of the year yesterday! Definitely my absolute favourite Halloween-related treat, and up there in my list of favourite things in general. I have a great memory of an extended family holiday to Disney at Halloween (I was around 9) when everyone else got candyfloss and my aunt and I went off in search of toffee apples!

Hot Chocolate, GS and the Playground Cafe

Today I met up with GS and we went to my favourite Playground Cafe (featured previously here and here). I had my first hot chocolate of autumn/winter 2014, and we played really intense Monopoly for ages. It was super good!!!

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Bristol by Night

Thanks to being ill (twice) and having lots and lots of work to do, the last week or so has been very different to what life's usually like. I've probably spent more time in the house over this last week and a bit than I have since before summer began. All very weird.
What spending lots of time in the house means is that I value the time I'm able to get out and about even more. Particularly when, as with last Saturday, I get to spend time not just in one of my favourite places, but in one of my favourite places at the time I enjoy it most. Have some pictures from Bristol Harbourside at night. Just me, my earphones/music, lots of beautiful lights and the rest of the world.
This is my kind of beyond words beautiful/inexplicable happiness.

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Mentality- What's Yours?

I've been volunteering with The Mentality Project (part of Off the Record) for a while now- around 3 or 4 months I think. We're a group of young people who meet once a week, with an aim to campaign to break down the stigma surrounding mental health, and to raise awareness. I absolutely love the group, and I love what we're doing!
Last Saturday, we held an event to mark World Mental Health Day. We decided that we wanted to do something quite big, to really get the attention of the public- so we chose to run activities on the bottom floor of the Galleries (one of Bristol's central shopping centres). Each of the activities was related to positive mental health- for example, we had a 'washing line' on which we asked people to hang paper clothes with something positive about their friends written on, to represent the importance of the people around you. People collected a stamp from each activity to 'earn' themselves a Happiness Box. The Happiness Boxes originally came from the summer NCS programme, and contained various 'happy things'- for example, products from Lush, stress balls and sweets.

Washing Line Game

Happiness Boxes (Some of!)

'Chill Out Area'

I Modelled the Dressing Up Activity

In addition, we handed out information on not just Off the Record and the Mentality Project, but a range of mental health issues and services. This table attracted quite a bit of attention, with loads of people taking leaflets- hopefully we've helped to get information to people who will really benefit from it!

Info Table

To add to the Mentality hub, we had four other organisations- Bristol Drugs Project, who did a stall around the effects of alcohol, Brook (a sexual health group who I also volunteer for!) with an activity around self-esteem (see the 'self esteem' bracelet below, contributed by a small child!), Resilience Lab, a part of OTR who try to increase individuals resilience to life challenges, and Freedom Youth, Bristol's LGBTQ+ youth group. They had a stall making badges. In other news, I now have some of the coolest badges in existence!

'You Are Not A Lion'

Freedom Badges

As well as the main event, we had teams going out to do 'outreach' in the general Bristol city centre area. They were armed with chalkboards and cameras, and got people to write down things that made them happy before taking a picture of them with their contributions. These are going to be used to make a film about positive mental health.
Lastly, we had an amazing juggling duo, who did one of the activities- getting involved in hobbies for positive mental health- and did a fab show that got loads of people watching!

Onlookers!

 

Jugglers in Action

Overall, the day went really really well. It's one thing me saying that- but it's proven in the fact that we smashed both of our goals, which were to speak to 500 people and to properly engage 100. Using the numbers of Off the Record business cards we handed out, the number of pictures taken and the amount of Happiness Boxes claimed, we went far and beyond both of these targets, which is absolutely amazing. In less statistical terms, it means that we got a heck of a lot of people thinking and talking about mental health, which is really important. Mental health is often ignored- or, worse, stigmatised. The very fact that we were there, in the Galleries, refusing to go away and putting mental health right in the public eye was huge.

Birds Eye View

Even the Mayor Paid a Visit!

On a more personal note, the day was one of the highlights not just of my year, but of my life. I got a chance to help with all of the stalls, did some of the outreach photography, and also went around the Galleries publicising the event. It involved lots and lots of speaking to strangers, which was terrifying at first, but got a lot easier the more I did it, and was really rewarding. Mental health is something hugely important to me, so it was great to have such a focus on it. A real highlight was when I spoke to a few younger children, and explained- in kids terms- the importance of mental health- 'sowing the seeds' for later life, as I like to think!! All in all the day was amazing. If I could do something involving that level of campaigning as a permanent job, then I'd be pretty damn chuffed!
To sum up my thoughts- I am so lucky, for I love what I do and I do what I love. I'm honoured to be a part of campaigns such as this, and to really get out there, doing what I genuinely feel as if I was born to do. Even better, I get to share it with a group of amazing people. My fellow Mentality Project volunteers are awesome-sauce, and I love them to pieces. We rock!

(Lastly- How Cute is the Dog that Came to Get Involved?!)

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Caitlin Moran!!

Last week, my friend CF and I went to Cheltenham Literary Festival to watch an interview with the one and only Caitlin Moran (who I saw in July!!). It was really really good- I kind of want to do a full review, but I don't think I could really do it justice. Basically it was fabby and inspiring and I am totally in love.
Even better- afterwords we ran to the queue for book signings, so we only had to wait around half an hour, which was pretty good considering. We both had a chance to chat to Caitlin and have hugs and it was all really good! I got the front of my notebook signed, and Caitlin and I made a pact that I'm going to change the world. I totally acted cool. Obviously. She was also really amazingly lovely to CF, which I know meant a lot. All in all, a really really good night, spent in great company- huge thanks to CF for my ticket!!

(Apologies that this post was very short and not very detailed. Anyone familiar with me knows I could have gone on and on. Alas, I am ill, and the thought of a bath is more tempting than blogging).

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World Mental Health Day

Yep, this is literally just the status I've posted on Facebook. But oh well.

It's World Mental Health Day today. It's a really really important day, and this is a status I feel incredibly passionate about. However, it's also one that has taken me a large part of the day to write. There is just too much to say. There are too many reasons why this day is important, why mental health in general is important. After thinking, and writing, and pressing backspace more times than I care to think about, I've decided to start this status with a statistic:
In any given year, 1 in 4 people will experience a mental health problem.
That's a big number. That's between 6 and 7 pupils in an average class. That's around 107,025 people in Bristol alone.That's a quarter of the people you come into contact with every day. If there was a 1 in 4 chance of winning £1000, no strings attached, you'd probably go for it. 1 in 4 is a bloody big number.
And yet, recently, 1 in 4 is a statistic that's been bugging me a little. It's one of the most common statistics given whenever the subject of mental health comes up. It's really good at demonstrating the sheer number of people who are affected by mental health problems, and it's really good at showing that mental health isn't really something we can ignore. However, 1 in 4 is also just a number. There is far more to mental health than that number. 1 in 4 does not describe, for example, what anxiety feels like- that awful force that attempts to govern lives, every single day. It does nothing for conveying what it is like to genuinely feel as though the world would be better off without you, or for how it feels completely alone, to look for any escape- no matter how damaging- from the feelings trying to engulf you. There is no way 1 in 4 could ever sum up how hopeless mental health problems can feel. Though many, many people who experience mental health problems can and will get better, there are others who may not. From that number, you cannot tell how awful it feels when you love someone who is struggling, how you read into every single thing they say and do, how you try and try to be there for them, knowing at the same time that you are powerless against the tidal wave that is their own mind. 1 in 4 doesn't come close to describing how many desperate hugs I have given people when there are no words left. 1 in 4 says absolutely nothing about the quarter of the population for whom every day is a fight.
Mental health problems are terrifying. I say that not only because I've had first hand experience, but because I've had second hand experience too. I spent last year struggling, trying desperately to survive the world. I've spent far longer than that loving people who are engaged in their own battles- and it's for every single one of them, and not for myself, that I am writing this. It's for every single one of them that I vow, whole-heartedly, to speak out about mental health, wherever and whenever possible. Why speak out? Because mental health is something that, so often, we just aren't meant to talk about. It's the elephant in the corner. That genuinely sickens me- as I say over and over, mental health is just as important as physical health. If someone breaks their arm, we talk about it. We fund research finding cures to all sorts of physical problems. We hold huge fundraising events and barely a week goes by when there's not a news headline about physical ailments. Yesterday, there was a mental health headline. It was, sadly, an anomaly. Even worse is all the negativity surrounding mental health- accusations such as false, selfish, attention-seeking. Mental health problems are real problems, ones that need the appropriate care and respect. I cannot impress that upon you enough.
I want to see a world where World Mental Health Day is almost superfluous, because every day there are conversations about what is currently a hugely stigmatised and discriminated topic. I want to see a world where it is completely accepted that it's okay not to be okay- where mental health problems are seen in the same way as physical problems. I know that that world will not cure mental health problems, any more than talking about a broken leg stitches the bone back together again. What it will do, however, is send a clearer message to people that they are not alone. That they are loved. That the world is here for them. That struggling is part of the human condition. I want that world. Don't you?
I'm going to assume that you do. More than that- I'm going to assume that you are more than ready to make that world happen, and that you want to know how we're going to get there. That's simple. We're going to love, and we're going to talk. There will be no assumptions, no extending the myths of mental health. Don't shy away from the subject, don't make jokes or pretend you know how they feel. Tell people you're there for them, and that you love them. Speak up about mental health; have positive conversations about it. Please. For me, and for every single other person in the world. 1 in 4 people may experience a mental health problem in any given year, but we are all affected by mental health.
Lastly, I want to use this day to make an announcement. It's one that I'm pretty excited about. As most people know, last year, in 2013, I shaved off my hair for Mind- a mental health charity- and raised £608. I was really pleased with this, and really really grateful to everyone who supported me. Doing that empowered and inspired me- and I want to make 2015 a year to remember. In 2015, I want to raise £2015 for a mental health charity. It's a big task. Some might say impossible. Yet it's one I'm passionate about, and one I'm determined to accomplish. I feel I owe it to the world- to every single person who deserves so much better than their mental health has given them, and to every other person, because, as I said, mental health is something we all have. More details will come as and when I'm ready; I just felt that today was the right day to get the basic plan out there!
I want to finish this by telling you- yes, you, the person reading this- that I am here for you, and that I will never judge you. That I love you so much more than you could ever imagine. I promise.
Here's to World Mental Health Day, and to talking and loving. Here's to hugs and friends and sunshine on dark days. Here's to love and hugs. I'm giving them out by the dozen. I hope you will, too.

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Grieving

It is over three and a half years since I first felt the pain in my ankle that I chose to ignore, and it's less than three years since I went to the doctors. It's less than three years since the first training session in which I realised that I would have to get out early due to the pain, and in which I didn't realise that that was going to become a long-term trend. This year marks the second year I have been unable to compete in the club championships, and it is the second of a number that will span as long as my life. It is over six months since I had my last ankle appointment. That makes it over six months since a part of my world caved in, and I sat sobbing next to the hospital lifts, realising that I would no longer be a swimmer. Lastly, today is yet another day where I have had to face that fact: I am no longer a swimmer.

To give more context. Sundays are swim teaching days. I teach a Stage 6 (ages 7-12, roughly) and a Stage 4 (generally ages 4-8ish). It's hard work, and there are bad days, but on the whole I love it, and feel honoured to spend my Sunday afternoons in such a way, with such a fantastic bunch of swimmers. Today, however, was even more of a swimming day. After the hour and a half of teaching, I headed to another pool to announce at the club championships- the yearly club 'house' gala. It was a good gala- announcing went smoothly, I caught up with a friend and I got the teacherly delight of watching my old students do well.

However, it being a good gala has become relative. A good gala, two years ago, meant one in which I'd raced, one where we- as a team, including myself- had done well. For me, there aren't galas like that anymore. Most of the time, that's okay. I'm not a swimmer anymore, which is difficult, but not one of my main thoughts. Then there are times like this, where everything is a trigger, bringing back the millions of memories of all I've lost. 

Today, it was the kids coming up to the table to ask where they'd come in their races. I was one of those kids, once, not always keen to put the work in, but ever eager to do well in competition. It was watching my friend collect her gold medal, and thinking 'I have some of those at home'. I'd always just assumed that my collection would grow, falling numbers making it more and more likely to achieve golds the older you get. I didn't ever think I'd be one of those falling numbers. It was the person who asked me when I was coming back, then seemed to assume that I wouldn't be coming back out of choice. Yes, to some degree it was a choice. But it was necessitated by circumstance, and that wasn't a choice. Most of all, it was watching the start of a backstroke race, and being able to feel the undulation of the water beneath my dolphin kick. Suddenly I remembered exactly what it was like to slice through the water, arms moving not quite like windmills, but almost. I was filled with the excitement and adrenaline that is racing. I was back there, for a few moments.

Later on, I thought again of all the time I wasted. I spent so many of my training sessions wasting time, chatting, trying to get out of the actual swimming. Whenever I see someone doing that now, I want to shake them. 'You will regret it someday!' I want to tell them. After all, I do. I would give so much to have those days back, to change how I used them, to have determination and focus- and most of all, the ability to swim without the constant discomfort in my left ankle.

I miss it. I miss it so, so much. Days like today I still cycle through those stages of grief, reverting back to denial, wondering whether there's any way I could return to the world I once knew. There's not, and that hurts. Today, thinking 'I'm not a swimmer anymore' leaves a lump in my throat and an ache of emptiness in both my stomach and my heart. 

I will be okay. By tomorrow life will have moved on, and there will be no time for grief. But I will never be a swimmer again- even as I write that, I can feel my ankle objecting to the position I'm sat in- and tonight, that's hard to bear.

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