A Midweek Muse…

 

After a topsy tervy weekend & Sunday night topping everything off badly, by the time Monday morning came around, I was in a not so great place and I found myself in the doctors waiting room, early morning.

I have slowly felt my anxiety and negative feelings creep back into the equation recently, but it’s always seemed manageable with some Bach Rescue Remedy and chocolate. However, this time felt different. And so, after a trip to the docs, I came away not much better off. Unsurprisingly. She thought it would be a marvellous idea for me to talk to someone about the things that make me anxious and low, and I looked at her and thought “great, I have to drag up everything I’m working so damn hard to put behind me, hear how pitiful to mankind it is and then humiliation on the table, wait to see if she replies to any of this or if it’s just a ‘get it out of your system’ excerise!” It’s not really my cup of tea as I don’t blab and blab about my feelings, certainly not to a stranger, so I’m very sceptical. Anyway, that’s not until September so I’ve only got 6 weeks to deal with all of this, I’ll probably have cured myself by the time September comes around! 🍂

I’ve found it very difficult to write for my blog, on Twitter, in my notebook… I’ve stopped gardening, am hiding away in my room when I can and tear up at any given moment. At work I’ll feel snappy, anxious, stressed and take everything personally, and the amount of times I’ve declared I’m finding a new job, is probably unhealthy. But I do need to find a new job anyway, so that part is relevant. But sometimes, when that panic is building in your mind, the emotion is building in your chest and heart starts racing and your breathing quickens, that’s when everything begins to feel impossible. Either impossible to deal with, cope with, dream of, continue with and even just talking to someone or messaging them feels like a huge stressful action which adds to the dread. I won’t go on too much as it’s quite a personal thing for me and I prefer keeping my feelings fairly private, but yeah, I just wanted to touch lightly on where I am currently with life and how, despite everyone telling me how well I’m doing (given circumstances), inside I’m still fighting quite a big battle of emotions and spontaneous feelings of panic and being a failure. 😖

I havent even even been to Jazzercise this week… Monday I wasn’t well enough and Wednesday night was cancelled which was a huge disssapointment as I’d psyched myself up for it and I’d abandoned dinner I’d made to get there on time… But in hindsight it was just as well they’d cancelled as I had definitely left my water bottle at home, so I would have been flapping around like a dehydrated fish at a ‘Fame’ night if I’d been there without my water!

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Once I’d returned home deflated but hungry, I gobbled my dinner and watched two episodes of Celebrity Masterchef which I’m surprisingly in to, and delved about in the fridge for my strawberries and yogurt! With a complementary bar of chocolate of course. Everything comes with a bar of chocolate these days! For me, not everyone! Obvs! 🍫😋

I always know where I am in life when I wake up of a morning and decide I want to get a dramatic hair cut… Which is what happened yesterday… Right, gather round, sssh, quietly, someone might hear! Ok, *whispering* I haven’t been to the hairdressers for 5 years! *resuming normal voice* I know I know, it’s hideously shocking and I am ashamed of myself, don’t worry! But it’s all rectified as I’ve booked an appointment this coming Saturday afternoon for a complete restyle! I want an Audrey Tautou! I’ve studied her short hair on google images (as you do) and it looks so cute, so that’s what I’m going to ask for. An Audrey Tautou. I’m not sure if it’s like the ‘Rachel’ phenomenon, or the ‘Meg Ryan’, but I’m not one to conform to any trend, so I’ll set my own! I’ve only ever had short hair once, five years ago funnily enough, and kind of liked it, but with a nicer style this time, I think I may just stick with it if she does it well enough. Yay! Haircut! ☺️

I’ll do a whole post-hair-cut-post after its done Saturday afternoon and hopefully without a Bailey’s bottle in hand! Although, it would be a nice treat… No Amy, the haircut is the treat! Slippery slope! Slippery slope! … Oooh, a slope with Bailey’s poured down it would be slippery…

A girl can dream… ✨

Amy 🌸

My Friday Blues…

 

As I write this, I am sat surrounded by a myriad of bowls and tuppaware strategically placed around my room, in vain attempt of catching the multiple leaks in my ceiling where the torrential rain is having great fun tidal waving in… I know I live in an old house but something’s got to give… Right?
I shamefully spent all morning in my bed, feeling very blue and not wanting to move. Have you ever felt that? When you really don’t want to move, either because you’re sooo comfy or because moving would seem futile, or even just because there’s no real need to?
Well, that was me this morning. I wasn’t even feeling sorry for myself.
I’d woken from a lovely, out of the blue dream, felt great when I opened my eyes, felt as though I was being hugged inside and even had a smile creep across my face.
But slowly, as the early morning saw 7am, then 8am, I began going down hill. Once I’d woken from my dream, blissfully happy (the first time in ages) at 5.15am, it was then I made my first mistake and a mistake that led me to staying in bed all morning. For I stupidly got out of bed at dawn and left my room… After being instantly hounded by a certain person, I felt a huge pang of anxiety overtake my mind and body and all the peace and fuzziness that I had woken up with, ran for the hills leaving me shutting myself in my room again trying to block it all out.
It’s a running trend with me, that the moment I feel at ease and peaceful, anxiety and worry comes a knocking and it all appears wasted and unattainable.
So, in true rebel fashion (for me at least), I holed myself in my room for the morning, scoffing back a donut, chocolate, coffee, tea and three (no really, 3!) crumpets with extra butter! I’m not sure if it was a minor breakdown or just the immediate reaction to having my inner peace destroyed in a matter of seconds, but it was actually a pretty ok way to spend my morning. I did productive things like write and job search, but I felt guilty that I’d reacted to one moment of stress in such a selfish way. That’s the thing about anxiety though, it creeps up on you silently and pounces on you when you’re at your assumed calmest and therefore makes you doubt you’re ever able to be truly calm. Such a shame after waking from my wonderful dream I’m not entirely sure what to make of!

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Fortunately, I had the excellent excuse of Friday lunchtime coffee with the girls from work to get ready for, which saved me from indulging in the very tempting thought of staying barricaded in my room for the rest of the day. I got bathed and dressed, did my hair and make up, and found my old brolly to brave the rain, and set off to the coffee shop. I was first to arrive and I ordered my pot of Twinings English Breakfast Tea, sat at a table for four and tried as best I could to be ready for socialising. There is such a big part of me which dreads group situations as I always feel like all eyes are on me and that anything I pluck up the courage to say, sounds the most ludicrous thing since Nick Clegg told students that Uni fees would decrease. They didn’t arrive straight away so as I sipped my very tasty tea, I grabbed my notebook from my bag and started to write. It felt good to write in a place I’d never written in before. It almost puts a different perspective on things and it’s very interesting. You should try it! It wasn’t long before the others arrived and once everyone had ordered their coffees, we all managed to engage in a relatively enjoyable conversation which wasn’t too agitating for me. Win win…

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The last couple of weeks has had its ups and down. Just when you think a day is going to be ok and you’ve got a good idea of what you’re about to do next, something swoops in and brings you down in an instance, flattening your mood, wiping out your enthusiasm and leaving you with the feeling of dread in whatever you’re about to do next. I am going through a period of unsettling uncertainty about my future; where I live, my career & the career change I want and need so much, my health, my family… Everything is whirring round my mind, frenzied curiosity matched with frenzied fear that now I’ve messed up one important thing, I’m messing up everything else and I’m destined to live forever, the way I am now.

While moving back home after ‘that horrible thing’ happened gave me what I needed at that point, it’s not what I’m going to need forever and I feel I’m beginning to need something very different right now.
The job I’ve had for 7 years is very rarely satisfying these days and I’m struggling to tolerate a lot of things there, which is making me dread going to work in the mornings and leaving me with a strange sense of regret at the end of the day. Bottom line, I know I can do better. Better than my current performance in my current job, and better career wise. I’m good at what I do, but through lack of a lot of things, my motivation has depleted significantly and I now realise my performance in the last year has not exactly diminished, it just hasn’t grown. It hasn’t had the opportunity to grow.
I can be very conscientious and enthusiastic when I feel strongly about my cause/role, but when my role is stagnating and repetitive, I find it’s difficult to maintain that level of enjoyment and energy that employers need. It’s hard to impress in a job in which you are bound by repetitive tasks, a small working environment and team, and no room to show any other skills and attributes you may have. Therefore, receiving very infrequent acknowledgement/praise for your work… I need a career change and now!

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Then there’s the hugerer matter of my living arrangements… I am struggling continuing living with my parents now. They were supportive during my time of need and I have been very appreciative of that, but we are very different people.
I’m 24, I don’t want to be living at home. I know there are lots of people my age living at home because house/rent prices are way too high and yes, if I was in a different financial position, I’d be finding a cute little apartment in the city where I could escape to and make my castle of happiness and proud Singletonsville living.

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I have built this very rose tinted image in my head of what my apartment would look like; autumn rain dancing on the city streets below, fairy lights softy lighting my living room to ease the grey cloud shadows penning in through the Georgian windows. Lighthearted, upbeat jazz music playing quietly in the background… Pianos and saxophones filling the Sunday afternoon air around the cosy building, creating a warm and fuzzy atmosphere. Classy pictures on the wall of Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe dotted around, along with dramatic framed pictures of New York City and London. Frank Sinatra albums stacked on the media shelf next to Swing hits and “Music for Fine Dining”. Jam bubbling away in a pan on the stove in the kitchen while scribbled blog notes scattered in numbers occupy the living room coffee table.
Big green leafy plants fill the rooms with geranium & hyacinths on windowsills, ferns in the corners of the rooms and a herb garden in the kitchen. Soft, fluffy rugs on the floor and matching throws on the chairs to cuddle up with on a rainy afternoon whilst listening to that autumn rain splash heavily on the roof, as a lighthearted Woody Allen film plays quietly on the TV. Preferably “You Will Meet A Tall Dark Stranger” or “To Rome With Love”.
Little shelves dotted here and there with books on some, plants on others and special shelves for precious trinkets & photos.
Oh the dreams to be a chic city girl and not the floundering village country bumpkin I currently am. Ok, maybe not quite a country bumpkin, but I know everyone in the village, work in the village and I’m starting to like the smell of manure… I need to escape. I need to become friends with exhaust, buddy up with buses, get pally with pollution… Anything to transform me to city girl extraordinaire! Pronto! PDQ! STAT! ASAP! Like yesterday!
I am seriously at risk of a) spending the rest of my life in the same village I have grown up in and work in and b) becoming the leading lady of a new series of Little House On The Prairie. Or worse… The Waltons.
Now, if I had a chilled Bailey’s on the rocks in one hand and a bar of Galaxy in the other, maybe life wouldn’t seem so daunting, so final, so death sentancy… But I have neither and all I have in my hand is the empty glass of water I need to refill but am too scared to go downstairs to the kitchen by myself in the dark. What. A. Rediculous. Human. Being. Oh god, I can practically hear someone saying that now to me, in a Simon Cowell voice. *Puts fingers in ears* “La la la la”…
Ok, so in reality, all my apartment/ city based rose tinted fantasies are at present, a distant dream on the barely visible horizon, so for the time being, I need to find a way to make it happen. To make that particular dream come true. It’s ok, I don’t need to make any huge changes, I’ll be just fine. Only the career change, the studying I need to decide on to allow me to change career and working out my finances to fund this move to the city… Why I always dream of the big stuff in life is still a mystery to even those close to me. Sigmund Frued would have a field day with me…

So there it is, my blues that have taken up this Friday. Although I have a ton of things to be grateful for, I am thinking over the areas of my life which just aren’t going down so well. I know what I want, it’s just achieving it and getting myself there that’s going to be the tricky part. But I love a challenge and I definitely have one on my hands with this!

Do you have a dream you’re dreaming of but finding it difficult to see your way along the misty path? I’d love to hear your aspirations and how you’re achieving them so please leave a little comment if you feel like it 🙂

Thank you for reading,

Amy 🌸

What’s in my Handbag 🎒

Forever struggling with my medium sized cross-body bag which I’ve had for years and finding myself constantly shoving it back further onto my hip as its shunted round to my front because of its weight, I announce I am now in search of a brand new bag.

As I am finding my feet with writing again as I now (tragically & pleasingly) have a lot more time to myself nowadays, I am wanting to carry around notebooks and sometimes my iPad, for the moments of madness and inclings of inspiration that sometimes befalls me. And to have a sentence or even a paragraph come into your head and not have the means to write it down before it dashes away, I’m sure many of you know how upsetting that is.

On with the show… My bag!

  1. My iPad. I don’t often carry it with me to work but occasionally I like to just so I can type what I need to say instead of writing. I don’t always have the concentration to write neatly enough to read it back later! Oh, and she’s called Ruby 😄 I give a lot of inanimate objects a name… I don’t know what that says about me…
  2. My Paperchase purse. 👛 This is reasonably new… I love how floral it is and that it zips the way round, but I am struggling with it a bit now as its a bit too stiff to open now I’ve put everything in there… And I don’t mean all my money unfortunately, I mean member cards, receipts, notes and other bits and bobs I’ve decided would be great stored away in my purse that have no relation to money whatsoever! Plus not overly digging the material.
  3. My make up bag. 💄 Again, Paperchase. Finding it a bit too small for my make up contents now… And the zip is broken so I’m using a safety pin. How very “make do and mend” of me! I need to get a new one really, but a bigger make up bag means a bigger handbag… Right?
  4. The Clockwork Sparrow book by Katherine Woodfine. I haven’t started reading it yet but it looks and sounds very good so I really am going to have to knuckle down and get on and read it. I’m famous for reading the blurb on the backs of books and claiming I’ve read the whole thing… So, so shameful! 📚
  5. My “Baldwins Nervous Pills” notebook. This was given to me as a joke as my last name is Baldwin… I’d never heard of the brand before, but it turns out they’re quite big. I’m classing it as my claim to fame. If I don’t with this, I never will with anything! 😎
  6. “The Little Book Of Calm” book. My Granny bought this for me quite a few years ago when I was in those distant memories of late teenhood. One of my favourite pages; “Frown Darkly”. 😡 There is no other way of frowning for me! It really can provide a little distraction and thought change when you’re freaking out a little, having a moment or someone in the room has shaken your tail feather slightly. But if you’re beyond anger, feeling really depressed or in full blown panic attack mode, I’ve found the Little Book Of Calm doesn’t really cut the mustard. You can pretend, sure, go ahead. Fool yourself that you can remain calm and stay sane. But it’s risky business. Trust me, it’s a cute tiny book that will fit in the smallest of bags, if you’re that dedicated to it, and I’m sure looks great to people you pull it out in front of. But when you’re manically flipping through pages walking through the city streets, crying hysterically  😭😱 and shouting swear words to the tiny book in your hands at why it hasn’t calmed you yet, that’s when it’s time to accept the book doesn’t actually work the way you’d hoped it would and it’s time to seek therapy. Or at least that’s what the professionals have told me… Moving on to number 7, quickly…
  7. My glasses… No overly long description of these needed in the slightest. They do what they say they’re meant to do on my specsavers prescription. Just not very well…
  8. My life saving little stash of Twinings Lemon and Ginger teabags in a playing cards tin from Paperchase. And I’m not going to lie, it does look a little dodgy when I pull the small metal tin out of my bag at work and declare I need a moment of calm… Today for example, I got some strange looks 👀 after I’d applied some hand cream & then tried to open said metal tin… Well, slippery and awkward springs to mind. And even more awkward when I had to ask my manager to open it for me, followed by me declaring it was nothing dodgy in the slightest and most certainly wasn’t me about to suggest we play a game of cards mid shift. I often use little tins for things that most definitely don’t involve hash! Usually teabags, nuts and seeds and trinkets. I lead a far more innocent life than my handbag leads itself to believe.
  9. iPhone charger. I have this genuine worry that I’ll get stuck somewhere and run out of battery on my phone. I honestly cannot bare the thought of that so, wherever I lay my phone charger, that’s my home.
  10. A couple of rings. I am usually found wearing a ring of some sorts but I like to keep one or two in my bag, just in case. And by just in case, I mean having to suddenly pretend I’m very married 👰🏼 should a creepy guy start to show an interest. Not that that’s ever happened, but I feel it’s good to be prepared and does provide minor comfort.
  11. A pen. And while I’d love to have some witty anecdote shoved right up my sleeve about this bad, bad pen, I haven’t, but I do have some great uses for it and they often involve noting down strange happenstances, dodgy numberplates and sudden ramblings.
  12. Earphones. I have tWo pretty shoddy pairs which I will either have at home or in my bag, both falling foul to that tangled up malarkey and sounding properly grainy, like the old records do from the olden days… Who needs to hear every part of a song clearly these days?
  13. Spare hair grips for those windy days when bits of hair you thought were securely shoved in place, declare war against you and make a bid for freedom; Messing up my look and not to mention the sane look I’d just manage to perfect through neater hair. 🙆🏼
  14. My keys. With a temporary key ring I bought in the sale from Polkadot Home. 99p later and I no longer need to store my key in my purse… I give it 3 weeks before it breaks and I end up back to square one.
  15. Dove Intensive Nourishment hand cream. This is lovely stuff. Absorbs into the skin beautifully, makes my hands look all soft and shiney and smells divine. What more could you want from hand cream?
  16. Last of all, my trusty Bach Rescue Remedy. I am a big fan of all things Bach and all things herbal/natural as a means of calming ones self. A cute tiny yellow wrapped bottle with a dropper that drops brandy tasting drop,rats onto your tongue and turns a moment of horror into the opposite in a matter of minutes. Or so I believe anyway. Even just carrying it around in my bag can sometimes be just as comforting as taking it. I love how it’s there, at the very second I begin to feel a bit wobbly (quite a lot), it’s there like a little bottled friend. And seriously, it tastes just like brandy and no, that’s not why I love it so much… I don’t like brandy. But I do love my bottle of rescuing drops for those moments where I do need to be rescued. For the record, that’s not very often, I’m quite capable and together thank you very much! Despite the impression numbers 6, 8 & 13 of this post give 😜


So there it is… The current contents of my bag, ever growing, ever changing and about to have itself a whole new home hopefully, providing I can actually buy a bag and not just stare at pretty ones online for the next 6 months because I’m a dreadful impulsive buyer who overthinks all purchases like an absolute saddo!


Amy 🌸

My Holiday In Devon & The Tragedy Of Dining Alone…

20th June 2015

Yesterday, I returned home from my week in North Devon with my wonderful friends.

The train journey there had started off rather dramatically, and I always welcome drama, when on the opposite platform, a man was taken away by police… It attracted, as expected, quite a lot of attention from fellow train-riders and I pretended to be absorbed in my book about Bletchley Park, but peeped over my glasses the whole time to gawk at the welcomed altercation!

That was all over fairly quickly, which was a shame but in hindsight, quite fortunate as if it had carried on until my train arrived, I probably would have stayed to carry on spying!

So yes, I got on the train a couple of minutes later and the hoards of loud people in groups also boarded too, much to my disappointment. A group of men in there 30’s and 40’s had been gathering round on the platform, clearly excited for whatever rowdy, drunken event that was about to take off.

And only a few meters apart from them, was an age matching group of women, dressed in matching t-shirts, making just as much noise, just as excited and also getting on the same train…

I reluctantly boarded a carriage and made my way in true disgruntled fashion down the narrowest alley way I’d ever known in a train.

The carriage was packed and so was the luggage rack, so with weekend bag and rucksack in hand, I squeeze messily into a seat by the window, and begin to pray I’m not going to be joined by any of the rowdy lot or a pervy letch!

I thought my luck had been chucked at me 10 fold when it seemed like everyone had found their own seat successfully and I was left with a whole seat next to me! My thoughts were confirmed when the train started moving slowly out of the station and a small, smug but victorious smile crept on to my face as I proudly placed my own luggage into the seat beside me.

Chuffed with my unexpected solitude, I decided that then was a good point to eat my egg sandwich I’d bought, as let’s face it, no one wants to be sat next to anyone eating an egg sandwich on a small train… And that was when it hit me, when I was at my most smug… I was travelling backwards…

That’s when my hand grasped egg sandwich came to a halt mid munch, a churning feeling in my stomach appeared and the words “only I could travel backwards on a train while trying to eat an egg sandwich” came into my head.

And then, just to add to my horror, my head slowly turned round, egg sandwich still planted in my mouth, to see this young girl smiling gleefully back at me, with not a smile of amusement, but a smile of no holds barred pity.

So after dealing with apparent trespassers who were somewhere between where the train was and the next station, the driver picked up full speed and I arrived a little calmer than when I started, just after lunch and waited for my friend to pick me up.
The first evening was spent on the beach with Prosecco, music and lots of giggles and I felt as free as a bird. We were listening to music from The Zac Brown band, who I found a few summers ago and their music fitted so perfectly for our evening on the beach and the words in the song rang so true for me at that moment.

For a girl who has never had more than one and a half glasses of wine before, the three Prosecco’s I’d had by the time the sun was setting on the beach, we’re definitely taking hold of me and the evening danced by with a light hearted frivolity. Pictures, giggles, dancing, singing and spending time with two of the nicest people I know. I felt truly lucky and very grateful for that evening and its San be perfect start to my week.

The rest of the week there passed very well, with explorations of the town and shops, a spontaneous trip to the local museum which turned out to be very interesting and I had a lovely chat with one of the ladies who volunteers there. I went to the beach again by myself and wrote my post cards, thought at one point I was going to be gobbled up by a dog, who just wanted to say hello, managed to get half the beach on my skin after caking myself in sun cream, and was sat there for a good two hours with my late grandma’s tartan umbrella to keep the sun off me. I must have looked like something from The Darling Buds Of May!

 


However, things took a bit of a nose dive on Tuesday lunchtime, when I found myself in a restaurant for lunch, in town…
I’d walked in the door and was greeted by a young girl who had rings on all fingers, red hair and was thin as a rake… Who promptly blurted for all the restaurant to hear, ‘Table for one?’

And that’s when it hit me. I hadn’t actually prepared myself for dining alone and the tragedy that comes with it.

No, I had been used to walking in proudly with my beau, waiting to be walked to a table for two and then going on to enjoy having company while I ate and moaned about everything I didn’t like with where we were. A favourite pass-time of mine.

But now, in a frenzied, tear-filled gaze, I was being led to a massive table at the window which felt like it played a part in the Banquet in Macbeth. All the time, I was being paraded to the village outside and my loneliness and raising level of uncomfortableness was being cast in an exhibition titled, ‘The Tragedy of Heartbreak’.

So, I sat there, sipping my new favourite drink Elderflower Bubbly, waiting 45 minutes for my food to arrive.

During that time, I had to endure every table in my sight containing smug couples, one table of which right opposite me, acting very loved up and kept looking my way in confused pity. I had to stop myself from glaring at them but their brazen public displays of affection were getting the better of me.

And then my distressed brain tuned into the music that was playing through the speakers. A medley of sad songs continued to pour out all the time I was there and I spent the entire time fighting back tears in public, once again.

There was no escaping, I’d ordered food, hadn’t paid for my drink, not to mention starving. I was trapped in the love torture pit of hell and I felt like everyone could see me squirming, everyone knew how sad and low I was. Horrifyingly humiliating, but in recent months, not something I’ve been a stranger to.

After a hideous wait, 45 minutes later, my food arrived and I was bitterly disappointed. It was a linguini carbonara and it was swimming in oil. By that point I had lost my appetite anyway, and with the amount of oil I was having to consume, I plonked my fork down mid meal, huffed loudly and sunk back into my seat tearing up and feeling queasy.
After paying and being polite enough to not moan about the quality of my experience there despite it bringing me to tears and queasiness, I made a hasty retreat and fled back to my friends house where I spent the afternoon feeling incredibly sorry for myself and yes, I watched The Jeremy Kyle Show.

One of my lowest points.

And it began to dawn on me that the more time I spent by myself, the more I was starting to think about him again, the lower I was feeling.

By Thursday night, I was a teary wreck again and needed to get things out of my system. Which I did thanks to my heroic friend who drove us up a hill at night to view the sea and talk. It lifted me so much by the following lunchtime and I returned home feeling a lot more at ease and settled again with my feelings.
The things I learnt while on my holiday, are pretty different to what I thought I would. I learnt that being by yourself at home isn’t always a good thing, I learnt that dining alone really isn’t something to launch straight into if you’re newly single with a broken heart, I learnt that friends are your life line sometimes and I am incredibly lucky to have some that care about me along with my family, and I also learnt that caking yourself in that much sun cream will only ever result in looking like a colourful version of the sand man.
An enlightening week which ended perfectly by being greeted at the station at home by my dad who took my bags from me and gave me a hug:)

I should be keeping a Gratitude diary from now on as I really am starting to notice the little and big things people do.
Not a changed woman yet, but a woman who is doing things she didn’t think she could do and who is getting stronger by the day.
Amy 🌸

A Sunny, Dreamy Afternoon…

 

7th June 2015
A warm sunny day, a cool breeze floating in through my window. Gentle yet excitable tweets from the birds in the trees… Yes, the great outdoors was teasing me. Hinting for me to go outside and play, and given that it seemed like my best offer since my runaway trip to Devon, I felt obliged to give in…
It has been an awful long time since I have gone for a walk in my hometown, and I have to admit, it was glorious. I was fortunate enough to only wear my floral blouse and skinny jeans, but I had put my cardy in my bag, along with a chocolate bar and my notebook… I like to go prepared on outings.

I walked out of my drive, down my road and turned on my music and it was then, I let myskelf smile at the beautiful place I am in. I have spent so many months cooped up in a small city centre flat, with no garden, no sunshine, no plants or people you knew and could wave to as you walked down the road. But I had that today. I had the sun on my back, I had the friendly people to wave to and greet, I had the beauty of peoples gardens, the flowers and trees… The beauty of homeowners houses and I had the feel of village life. And after spending so long in the dirty, noisy and unsociable city, I surprised myself by thoroughly enjoying every minute of it.

I’ve always thought of myself as a city girl, always wanting to move there. Even up until recently I’ve wanted to up sticks and settle down in the high-rise, wanting to immerse myself in the busy hubbub of the streets, the noise of people going from one building to another. I think I was hoping that if I could surround myself with all that busyness, I wouldnlt feel lonely. Completely ignoring of course the hidden dangers of pollution, street crime and the realisation that no one, no one in the street you’d be walking down would give two hoots about your existence. And I ask myself, now, is that what I really want? Do I honestly want to end up somewhere I could feel surprisingly lonely? Somewhere that gives you a false sense of belonging but in harsh reality, only serves as a horrifying daily reminder at how insignificant you are.

Because I’ve had the alternative. I’ve come from a background of everyone knowing who you are, caring about how you’ve been ( or at the very least, pretending to) and I’ve had the safety of walking down the street and feeling relatively assured that at some point on your walk home, you’ll see someone you actually know, and half like! … I’m pretty sure you don’t get that in the city!
But, my next predicament, is that after all that’s happened, after everything I’ve been through, would I prefer to be anonymous for a while? Would I rather be away from all the prying people, all the nosy parkers, the curtain twitchers who will eventually start to ask how my romance is going? Hows the love life! How’s things with T? Why haven’t you moved yet?

And I have to stand there and politely, (because quite frankly despite inner feelings, I have no other option) and explain that there no longer is a romance and I’m certainly not moving in with anybody!

The words tragic, humiliating, painful and hopefully avoidable spring to mind!
So, I need to go to a place where I can have that beauty I described, that nurturing, friendly environment… At the same time as possessing a ton of anonymity! Where I go, no one would have to know about what has happened, no one would know I’d been on the brink of moving in with a boyfriend, talking about marriage & children and planning a future with a dog called Pippa…

And I’d be away from him, memories of him and what we’ve had, and I’d have no risk of bumping into him and ending up feeling how I felt the last time I saw him, (when he told me it was really over), like a love sick puppy who’d just met the love of her life, butterflies and all! You see, I’d be free. Or something very close to it. I can’t escape from my memories though, or my thoughts. But being in a different town, a different county, might just help me along the way.

Yesterday, I asked… I don’t know, I guess the universe, to give me a sign if I should seriously consider moving to the seaside… And this morning, when I arrive at my grandparents house, the picture on their calendar is of Clovelly, North Devon, with a row of beautiful houses rolling down to the ocean.

I leapt on that picture like a woman possessed, much to the amused but unsurprised look from my granny… For my Granny knows better than anyone that when I get an idea in my head, very little gets

in the way of making it happen and it generally consumes my entire brain until it either works out or I come to a reluctant conclusion that it’s impossible.

However, this little lifesaving fantasy can’t fail, it can’t be impossible.

I see it now, headliner for my village newspaper… “”Heartbroken village girl Amy sets sail to South coast on a brave solo mission to restore faith in life and all it has to offer… And sets up shop in the local cafe too, where she’s proven a success with the locals… She’s the most sought after woman on the South coast!”

But that’s just in my head of course… *clears throat* moving on…


Anyway, my big idea is taking shape nicely in my head and I just need to come into an awful lot of money to pull it off. And I’m sorry to say it, but I’m not going to lie, I have considered… Doing one of those lottery things. Hey, I need a lot of money for my plan, my vision. I have no sugar daddy or stock share to go running to, I’m running this dream solo here.

And it’s up to me to source the finances for it. In the meantime, I start some sort of training. And a trip into town this week will help me get started very nicely…
Well, I’m off to ponder this project over an icecream, and possibly a glass of wine. No no, just kidding… I don’t have wine in the house.

I must make ‘notes to self about this’…
Amy 🌸