Can't think of a title for this bollocks I still write

One thing I've come to realise and continue to be taken aback by, is the fact that we're never 'done'. We will never be complete in life's experiences until we are literally dead. That blows my mind. So why do we worry about life being complete? It just can't be. 

We could naively believe at the age of 15 that we'll have life sorted when we're 20, 25, or 30, but the reality is that life will only be sorted when you're happy and content with absolutely every aspect of your life, and who ever is? It's not that we should lower our expectations, but the constant strive for utter perfection can surely only lead to disappointment? Perfection doesn't exist. 

Disappointment with body image, career prospects, relationships, or children, or perhaps the lack of them. Nothing will ever be perfect. Work will present challenges, you may never get rid of that cellulite, or get the six pack you want, and you may never find the perfect relationship, if there is such a thing. 

Why can't we just accept that we can do or be our best, but that our best is good enough? Constant comparisons with other peoples' lives and successes on Instagram, Twitter, or their highlight reel on Facebook are never going to compare to your greasy hair and hoodie combo (especially when you're hungover). You don't know what they've been through either. The thing is, behind each updated selfie hides an individual who has chosen the best angle, best filter and best photo of them and their bae to display to your lowly self. That's another thing, when I'm actually dating/seeing/in a relationship/WHATEVER with someone, I can't say I really take many photos together because I'm usually too busy eating food, going for walks, being a massive geek, watching Netflix, living actual life with the person in question. I can't say that photo shoots are high on the agenda. In fact, in my last relationship I don't think we ever had a picture together, because we were just busy having too much fun. It's ok to do it too though, if that's you, that's you. I just think many couples compare themselves to these wondercouples, but the amount of photos you have together does not represent the bond you share with a person. 

I accept that my own life is not perfect, and that I myself am imperfect,  which is fine, but I'm relatively happy in my own skin. I have some incredible people in my life who make me howl with laughter, and accept me unconditionally. I have good qualifications, lots of talents and interests, a job which I love, and at my age I believe those things are great achievements.

 If you want to travel, do it. If you hate your job, leave it. If you want to run a marathon, start training. If you're scared about something, confront it. Record an album, have a change of career, take a risk, tell someone how you feel, whatever it is, there just isn't a timescale that life should happen within. It might not work out, but that's ok too. Failures can't define you forever. I used to think as a child that I'd have my life sorted by now. But I know that I never truly will, and this freedom to be imperfect is an intrinsically wonderful thing. 

Criticism

As I write, I can't think of a single example of when it is enjoyable or in any way pleasant to be told that you have failed in some way, or fallen short of a set of expectations ascribed to you, even if criticism can be useful, if constructive.

However, this is somewhat interesting, given that, if asked what you are like by someone, I at least would think of all the worst things first. Then I'd think of some nice things to say. I'm perfectly capable of making myself sound good on paper and in person, in fact I do think I'm very much worth talking to!

The things we have a complex about tend to dominate our thoughts, but on the surface, we want everyone to see the good things we speak of. We are ashamed of our weaknesses. It seems that if our lives play out like a film, we only want people to see the trailer. The best bits, the funniest, the stand out moments. If people see anything more, they might notice all the things that could be better. Increasingly, given that social media facilitates exactly this mentality, we're almost bound to it.

We take criticism to heart, don't we? Blanking out all the good bits in favour of obsessing over an offhand comment, perhaps made in jest or by someone who misunderstood. Or maybe you really did get it wrong, in which case, you deserved that didn't you? So the mind ticks away.

Sometimes we can be very assured in one area of our life, and feel utterly helpless in another. Perhaps professionally, everything is going well, but you could get home and feel desperately alone. Or maybe you're really happy in your personal life, but feel some kind of existential crisis when you think your life is going nowhere.

Experiences just provide the paint on the canvas of life. Sometimes we really like what's being created and other times you realise it has become something you never intended or wanted it to be. You can sort of paint over it but there will always be a little stain to remind you of what was there before.

Letting people see the whole canvas is pretty scary. You only ever trust a few. Your sister, a close friend maybe. So why is it that we let so many people we barely know have the paintbrush? We believe the things people say about us, and that's how they paint. People have impressions on you in whatever capacity you know them. There are people I've met that have no idea how important they were in shaping who I am, and maybe I'm that person to others too. I just don't know.

As I sit here in my Donald Duck pyjamas eating salted caramel ice cream, I think of all the little things I did wrong today, most of them unnoticed by the five classes I taught. I wonder how many other things I did right that I can't even remember. This satisfies my point completely. We only notice the bad stuff. I worry if I post this, whether anyone will relate to it or if I'll just sound weird. I don't know if lots of things in my head make sense to others, but they do to me. I think about how I'm perceived often. How strange that we can never even see our own naked back in the flesh, never mind encounter ourselves as people the way others do.

Oh well, most people who know me think I'm odd enough as it is I suppose!

A philosophical procrastination resource.

Who are you? 

Can anyone answer this question properly? My answer is no. Most people would reel off a list of labels. Me too. We have bodies with recognisable characteristics, but we can change them if we like.

 I could get plastic surgery, get a spray tan, cut my hair short, dye it black, wear brown contact lenses and ask a stranger who I am. They would be describing someone else to my friends who know me as Liv, the girl with a blonde bob, milk-white skin, blue eyes and a small chest. My point is that we project who we want people to see, which I do. #paleandproud

That's just the surface. Superficially, we can 'fix' ourselves, the ethics of which can at times be questionable. The bit underneath is what we so often hide away. Our deepest fears, desires, wants and needs are encased in a tangible vessel of living, breathing, walking, talking components, assigned to you at birth. Your mind and soul can never be seen, only experienced or described. I believe that the self image we project only ever shows a third of us to the world for that very reason. 

We choose what to reveal from the other 66.6% of us by using our physical body as a window to communicate ourselves. Sometimes, we let people in on the little secrets we harbour inside that shell which we prune, preen and perfect for the outside world, which can be scary. 

Why are we scared? It can't REALLY hurt us, not really. We're all governed by the same emotional risks but we're afraid of what we can't understand. We live in an age where we want answers, predictions, reasons and justifications for what is happening in the now. We Google on our iPhones all the questions we don't dare to ask real people. We post on Instagram to get superficial approval, rather than have meaningful human interactions. We want admiration in this Instaculture and are losing the subtle art of patience for the answers to difficult questions. We throw away what no longer serves our purposes, our microwaves, cars, holey socks, old CDs and sadly, people too. We don't fix, we replace. We can't get the answer to the question: 'why', because people can't be explained by Google. We are left to wonder, and we have to fix ourselves when we feel broken, a completely counterintuitive notion within the boundaries of our societal norms. You can't replace a memory or a feeling, you have to learn to live with it. 

But who am I? I'm Soob, Blondie, Miss Thornton, 5'6, size 10, blue eyes, daughter,  acquaintance, best friend, sister. I was five years old once. My mental health is stable. I have a degree, I can sing, and I can work a room or absorb it from the sidelines. I love to talk, philosophise, learn and make judgements. I'm fickle, insecure yet certain, religious, contradictory, and I pay my taxes. I vote, I'm bad at maths, and I have no idea what I want from life except to be happy at the end of it. I'm aware of my naivety and very unassuming, and I think, a lot. Those are the labels I could use to describe 'Liv'. It's not enough, but it's a start. 

If I live to be 100, I'm only 24% complete in my life experience. So no, I can't answer the question of who I am. I think the best answer is probably 'I'll start you off with some labels and you can come and see for yourself'.

Interestingly enough, it's a question we ask each other every day, and possibly the one we're most scared of answering.

Oi, Quirrell!

 I have a little theory. Wouldn't it be great if people were nice to each other? At work, school, home, with friends. In so many walks of life, and to so many people, there is backstabbing, maliciousness, and a lack of compassion. It is so unnecessary.

I hear things about people all the time. Whether they're true or not, is none of my business. If I really was concerned about the person being talked about, I'd go and ask them if they were ok, did they want to talk etc. but only if I knew them well enough. And if I didn't know them well enough to have that conversation, then I don't believe that I should have the right to put that person down in public, yet behind their back. It baffles me that people can reach adulthood and not understand basic principles of common decency. It is not hard to be nice.

It depends what the topic of conversation is regarding that other person's life, but often, that individual needs good friends. People who are going to be there no matter what, to help them through whatever has been thrown their way. Maybe they made a mistake, but have you? Maybe they said something they shouldn't, but have you? Maybe they got dumped, or fired, or missed church 3 weeks running, threw up in a plant pot, or put on pills, but have you ever done any of those things? Or things like them? What if you did in the future? Who would be there for you, and what is their incentive to be there? What do you do to benefit others? Do you understand the whole picture, or do you run with a half baked story at the expense of others?

People will always talk, about whoever, about whatever. But it makes me so angry that more people will talk about that person than to that person, or give them the help they might be needing.

Respect, decency, compassion, love and care. We teach children about these things. But many adults still don't understand what actually practicing and embodying these things entails. We all need reminding to take a step back and look at ourselves from time to time, myself included.

The selfish thing to do is bring attention on yourself by spreading the gossip to look popular. The selfless thing to do is to discreetly help that person by going directly to that person and supporting them, or actually, just being nice. You don't even have to say anything to them, or anyone else at all.

Two faces didn't work out so well for Voldemort either.

A moment of seriousness 😐

I didn't know Robin Williams. I mean, I knew of him, but I can't say that I'm heartbroken that he's died, because I didn't know him like his friends and family did. I do think his death is very sad nonetheless. If the rumours are true that his death was related to depression, it just goes to show that this illness is a killer, and is very serious.

Many people forget that this is an illness in the process of trying to help someone out of depression, and the sufferer can feel as though they have little or no control over their own feelings. That is a terrifying experience, and may be one of the main recognisable feelings, given that almost everything else is just absent, or a void of negativity.

It's not that those who suffer depression don't want to feel better, they literally don't know how. It feels like digging your way out from the underground and having no idea when you're going to see the light, or if there will ever be any. As you start to recover, you observe everybody else functioning as normal above the surface, like a strange glass ceiling is between you and them. You want to be up there with them, but you have no idea how that's going to happen.  You want to be there, really there in the moment with them. You want to talk about how you feel and not scare anyone. You want them to be there for you, but if you're honest, you might lose the last thing keeping you going.

Fuck it. If you need to talk, talk honestly. If you lose people, you lose them. It doesn't really matter, because you would have lost more by trying to be cautious, which could delay your recovery.
 As you get better, you do see light, but this time it's like you're underwater and you need to find the whole in the ice to escape from. You feel like you're cold and numb inside, and sometimes it dawns on you that you can't breathe, and the overwhelming sense of uncertainty and self-doubt are the primary feelings you wake and sleep with.

People around you may not know what to do with you or say to you. But if you know someone with depression, all you have to do is be there. Don't set up an itinery of 'fun' things to do, your presence is enough. Understand that the person you're trying to help needs your support just as if they were suffering a physical illness, and if you were close to them beforehand, you will already know that the best of them is yet to come. That person who literally brought light, life, energy, happiness, positivity, good stuff to your day is in there somewhere and they can get better. Yes, they might feel like they have nothing to live for, but they do.

I'm not a medical expert but I do know that depression is a horrendous and dark illness to suffer from, and that you can feel happy again one day. Maybe not immediately, but if you compare it to the seasons, to get to summer you have to go through spring. That takes time, and even then, sometimes it rains in summer, but when you're at your best, you'll realise everything good that you can offer. You can appreciate the view the most when you're at the top of the mountain. It's just that when you're stuck in a metaphorical forest on the mountain, you can't see the view, or the big picture.

You can one day be there in those moments you observed under the ice,  you can even create those moments. People can love you for everything you are, see your lust for life, your energy. You end up feeling things again, like, you really want to go out tonight, you'd love a giant rack of ribs, you want a glass of wine, you'd have a great day if you went to the beach next week, or booked a holiday, or went on a shopping spree. The simple fact that you want to do stuff is what makes you who you are and have an influence on people.

This might sound like a strange kind of cheesy rambling pep talk to anyone. But the audience is anyone. Depression is indiscriminate of age, gender, racial background, and wealth. You, or someone you know could suffer from it.
This should not be a taboo subject. People should be talking about this.

Gymming it

Gymming it

So, I recently joined a gym, which seems a bit insane, because I'm probably the laziest person I know. I don't do any exercise, I hate sport, unless it involves walking upstairs to climb into bed (make of that what you will). And I always thought the gym was a bit soulless, and a bit naff.

Anyway, a load of my friends are members, and I've been peer pressured into exercising. So I thought I'd educate you on my recent PT session. My aims are to tone my core, bum and thighs.

We took my fat measurements alone in a spa room with candles, which felt incredibly awkward with a man I just met. Anyway, I managed to avoid exposing my knickers. Thank God I invested in those stretchy pants from h&m that can be forced backwards over the knee.

Back to the PT session. I have never felt the presence of my arse so intently in my life before this hour in particular. And it has definitely been there for 23 years, it's been very much there for about 10 years. So I did all these exercise things, he was firing info and technical terms at me, which I don't have the capacity to understand because I'm an RE teacher and I'm too busy memorising the Hail Mary to cope with adding muscle groups into the mix. All I could grasp was that my legs hurt and my arse hurt more.

So we got to this step/platform situation which was super high. So I was told to step on it and lower myself down which was supposed to make my legs look super hot eventually. I did not look hot as I fell to my gluteus maximus (I do know one muscle!) however, because I could not cope with the height of this crazy platform situation. My legs literally just failed me.

Anyway, he then walked me into the weights room. From the outside, there could have been a gay orgy going on in there, men were leaving sweaty and looking flustered, and questionable moans and grunts were emanating from the vicinity. Anyway, I put my assumptions to one side, and strolled in, a bag of pale scrawniness hoping to look casual. I think I pulled it off.

I almost died in there, I had a seat for a little rest between each squat. My thought process was, 'ok, nrghh, don't make an orgasm noise....owwww this hurts....how did I end up here....what if I fart from this effort....?...now I can sit down, ah what a---argh, oh God I bruised my arse when I fell off the too-high platform!' And so on.

It did not help that my PT kept saying things like 'explode', and 'the deeper you go, the better the result'. Maybe it comes from working with teenage boys that makes me suspicious.

We concluded with what felt like simulated childbirth by working on my core.

5 days on, all of the whatever they're called muscles feel ok again. I might go back soon. But getting my tattoo was genuinely less painful.

Regrets I have and how to overcome them

This whole idea of having no regrets? Well, everyone has them, and the only way to avoid making the same mistakes again is to learn from them. Everyone has regrets.

So here's 3 things I regret and what I've learnt from them.

1. Going on a second date with someone that you have absolutely no interest in. After feeding the ducks on date 1, walking round and round the same lake, getting colder, all of a sudden the heavens opened. Sadly, it was not the dawning realisation that I'd discovered 'the one'. The sun was not smiling it's rays down upon us, it was in fact pissing it down.
So we ran back to the W reg Renault Clio and did not passionately kiss like the scene from the rainy boat from The Notebook. We drove to Morrisons.
After all this, I decided for some reason that date 2 (bowling) would be a good idea. This resulted in 'Jack's a dick', which is now widely known as the get out clause for any bad date in my entire friendship circle. I literally had to ask a friend to ring me fake crying. In future, I'll just be honest. Lesson learned.

2. Underestimating myself. I'm aware this sounds a bit cheesy. But I've come to realise that I'm actually quite good at a lot of things. I'm just incredibly harsh on myself in lots of ways. I'm very good at 'what ifs', but when I actually take a step back from the situation, I realise that things really aren't that bad.
It infuriates me when other people tell me I can't do something, or will find something hard, and it infuriates me even more when I soak it in and say nothing to them. Actually, who is anyone else to say you can't do something? No one. They aren't in your head, your position and haven't lived your experiences. How do they know? Well it's quite simple, they just don't.
If someone tried to tell me I couldn't leap across the Grand Canyon in one jump, I'd be like, 'cheers for that advice, thanks for the tip-off', but I've almost abandoned my career before it started and spent a year feeling worthless because I listened to someone else underestimating me in the past. It becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. What a waste of time. You make yourself happy, if you know you'll be fine, chances are you will be.
So when I feel rubbish, I try to make myself aware that I'm underestimating myself and that others might be too.

3. I will eternally regret trying to grow up too soon. Through my whole childhood I was desperate to be a proper adult and glamourised almost every aspect of what that would be like. I wore make up when I was 12 because I felt like I needed it, and something like that just seems ridiculous now.
 I remember being 3 years old, eating marmalade on toast with my Mum. She went to the loo, and when she came back I demanded to know whether she'd washed her hands, because that's what all grown ups say when you've been for a wee. Little did I know that they only speak in that way to children. Fail mini Liv, fail. I just wanted to be one of them! I relished being a big sister, even though my little sister was bossier than me in her shiny red boots. The devastation.
I think I never really did being a teenager, I felt like I did being 13 to 18 in one year, and I went straight into my career after uni. Part of me wonders, if I just enjoyed being young, how much more really awesome stuff could I have done? I'd probably have made tonnes more mistakes. I could have just been really skint. But that's part of it perhaps. I still really want to go travelling. Maybe I will one day.

So my advice to myself is, be honest, value yourself, and don't grow up too soon.
Hmm, I like that. I'm off to eat some cheesecake.