No matter who you are, where you are, what you’ve done, or where you’re from, you need friends. I think the most humbling experience for me over the last few years has been learning I need people. Good people, the kind of people you want to be like. I’ve never had dreams about having the ‘perfect’ prince charming (though I found my version of one) coming to sweep me off my feet on a white horse. I’ve always dreamt of having great friends, the kind you sit around and instagram about.

Now I’ve found an odd bunch, my instagram keeps telling me I need to update it before it can upload pictures. Of course I don’t have enough space on my phone #firstworldproblems. So, instead I just instagram in my head. 

Tough times are hard, everyone has them, it doesn’t matter how amazing or perfect your life is. Life does get tough. But when you’ve got people to make you laugh until you choke (though not actually choke choke, breathing eventually is good. You need to live to appreciate those friends), and to remind you of the little things that make you smile. 

We all need people to accept us, challenge us and pick us up. 

I have always stood on my own two feet. My sister said to me the other day “I think I need him too much” when talking about her new boy-friend (not actually going out so not quite sure how to describe them. a – seems to be appropriate here).

I looked at her and told her how wonderful it is to be able to need people. That having to learn that is quite simply a very painful process. Because you learn by dragging yourself up, and eventually not being able to any more because you’re just too tired. Then you have to need people. And yes, you get a crash course in what it’s like to be helpless.

Relying on the right people, when you need a hand, a smile, or just someone to be on the other side of the Facebook page, can change a situation from wallowing, to having just one bad day. 



Piece of peace

Have you ever run a marathon? That moment where you’re nearly at the end, your muscles hurt, your bone ache and everything in your body is screaming stop! I’m there, in that moment. Tech is nearly over, the end is so close I can taste it and I am so exhausted every part of my body is screaming stop! We are in those final moment of the race where you have to pull it all together and sprint to make it, use up every last ounce of energy you can muster and finish that race. You know that place?

Well, I’ve never run a marathon, but I’ve been told that is what it feels like. And I’d believe them. Because this, this exhaustion is like no other I have felt before – it has certainly put me off marathons. Things have worked out wonderfully, I have a full time job I am so excited to start, my assignments are going well. It is all under control. Yet I feel like I have just jumped off a sinking ship and I am swimming franticly to shore. 

So much is about the change and it is overwhelming. 

Currently I look like a lobster. I sunbathed on the beach today for the first time this summer. It was wonderful feeling the warm sand under my back and my head sink slowly into a napping state. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of talking about my granddad the night before. He’s sick and to be honest I don’t know much about it. He could be fine for years or he could not. And I do not know how to process that. 

I am slowly coming to the realisation that I may live alone. I would be faced with myself, every day. There is a terrifying feeling associated with that. The peak of being a 20 something. And suddenly the weight of what is to come came crashing down on me. Lying in the sand slowly becoming lobsterish a bundle of emotion hit me. I am still processing it. Me and my partner have had little to say to each other lately. Not because we don’t want to talk. I think we just have no words to describe how we feel or what we’re even thinking. Because things are going to change, and I struggle with change. I cope well, but I struggle to accept it. I mean for crying out loud, I laugh when my friends crash their cars. I laugh. That is my reaction, it is an uncontrollable, painful fit of giggles that comes over me when I go into shock. That is how I deal with things – I laugh. But when it’s death and saying goodbye to friends, well I just can’t find a way to make that funny. 

So I’m going to start going to church again. I will probably sit in the back pew and I will probably quiet, withdrawn and I will enjoy that. Churches are peaceful and right now I could really do with peace. 

A spidery tale

Life has become weird again. It began when I encountered a big black spider about a week ago. Granted it was on a horse cover that had been lying around for several days, exposed to the spider population. I did not scream. I simply continued on, removed said spider and was very proud of myself. A couple of days later I encountered another one, I can’t quite remember where but again, withheld scream. This seemed to continue for several days. Then it just got worse. Three (smallish) brown spiders appeared at different times during the day on me. On my person. Three, all in one day. The following day a big black one appeared on my riding boot. While I was holding it my hand, as I was just about to inspect the insides for that very creature. This is a job I normally make my boyfriend do. But I was feeling brave. I shouldn’t have given my recent haunting of the spiders. I screamed this time. And threw the boot. Then killed the spider. My boyfriend was not impressed as he ran in to find I was alive, well and I had not fallen to my doom. His words were “Oh! It was only a spider.” It was NOT ONLY as SPIDER. It was big, it was black and it was about the sixth one in a week. The next day I found a really big brown one on my float, it had fangs I could see.

I mean, it was just getting ridiculous. Then tonight, alone, watching private practice, alone, a big, big, the biggest one yet, appeared on my ceiling. I fly sprayed it, and sprayed some more, and some more and the blasted things just would not die! I scooped it onto a piece of paper and flushed it down the loo. I will now wait until tomorrow before using that toilet. 

My fear of spiders is rational. It is not dreamt up and it is not simply ‘because they’re scary’. I loved spiders. Until I picked up a very big one, around the size of my small 10 year old hand, and took it to show mummy. It didn’t want to go see mummy so it bit me. And my figure got all red and puffy and sore. So, I don’t like spiders. At all. 

Now, other than my spider haunting lately which, quite frankly I am over, my cat (the one that lives with Alex) thought all through the weekend that 7am was the perfect time to wake up sleeping owners. Every single morning at 7am on the dot. So I’m tired. 

I also just found out that a position is opening up at the paper I desperately wanted to work at, at the start of the year. Of course I already have my perfect job at a different paper. But I am currently frolicking in the irony of it all. Frolicking in the most delightfully delusional way. Oh, and my horse is currently visiting a boy horse in order to make a baby horse. Though, she doesn’t want a bar of him. She likes the boy who has no balls. I sigh at the irony and stare sadly at my nearly 20 year old face in the mirror and wonder when on earth it started looking so tired. 

I’d ask why but I lack the energy.

As I prepare to celebrate my 20th year breathing and being alive I thought to myself, ‘how will I celebrate the end of this course?’ My answer: sleep for at least 24 hours straight. When did I get so boring?

Is it worth it?

Life is moving along now. The end of the year is nearing and I am feeling like a racehorse who is just about to cross the finish line: exhausted, worn down, relieved, excited and victorious. Don’t get me wrong, I have enjoyed the hard work and the challenges but sometimes, life is just tiring. Things are going to change soon. Not like changing the sticking plaster on your pinky, but like changing from a wheelchair to crutches. My flatmate and best friend may be moving. I am staying. I may live alone. My sister will be closer. I won’t be competing. My horse will hopefully be pregnant. And there will be no more tech. Full time work. Full time me. Full time living life. There are a lot of maybes in that list. Of course that doesn’t make it any easier to digest. So many unknowns and could be’s. It is just one stumbly step after another. 

I told a friend today that I was tired of fighting. He asked me if it was worth it. To be honest, I am ashamed to say I hadn’t even stopped to think about that. I was so wrapped up in how worn out I felt I forgot to think ‘why am I doing this?’ Because it is so worth it. The hard work and the exhaustion and the changes and the mountains this year have been so, so worth it. Will taking these new changes in my stride and keeping on keeping on be worth it in 6months time? You bet ya. 

As I prepare to take my horse to see a boy horse to make a baby horse, I sit and I think about all the times in life that I have wanted to be in this place in my life. I’ve wanted to be here. I made it, alive. Do I feel complete, like I have made it to the final destination? Or like I thought I’d feel when I dreamt about being here? Well, no. Heck no. But that is what we need as human beings to keep going: we need to dream and hope and wish and want and strive. We need to want to be more, or we will be nothing. 

One, step, at, a, time.


This is how I’ve grown up

Thinking about seeing past guy is a little scary I must say. Mainly because I struggle to remember what I was like back then. I know I was shy, very, very shy. Quiet, definitely quiet. Didn’t say much to anyone other than the people I knew – though I did stand up for myself when people picked on me. Normally I wasn’t quick enough to have anything intelligent to say. Looks wise I suppose I’ve changed a bit – who doesn’t in four years? But nothing shockingly different. I haven’t really grown, my hair is still roughly the same colour just a bit longer and my face lost a bit of it’s baby look.

19 is still pretty young. Nearing 20 it’s strange to think this is what I always thought about when I was 16 – who I would be when I was all grown up. Maturity, apparently that is what makes me seem older. I don’t feel very mature most of the time, but then in other moments I surprise myself. 

I am now, what I always wanted to be four years ago. I got here. That’s the problem, where to now? 

Smiley faces were certainly a chronic infestation in all of my texts, I definitely know that. My sister now complains I don’t use them enough. I still do the …. thing when I have nothing to say, I blame Daniel for that habit, never really managed to shake that. Really, I have picked up small things that I have liked from each person I have met and carried them with me. Sort of a collection of things from the people I want to be like. Whatever the trait was that I wanted, I found a way to make it happen. Weird I guess. 

When you think back, who did you want to be when you got to here? Did you get there? 

It’s odd when you stop to think about it. Some of it makes me sad. There were so many pure and wonderfully innocent things about my personality I loved then. I hated it at the time, but don’t we always when we can’t look from the outside? The world certainly does roughen and torment over the years and the sooner you try to jump into it, the faster you learn to stand on your feet and to shield your eyes and your heart. It is relentless and it is very unforgiving. 

Four years is a very short amount of time in the scheme of things, but when you realize how much changes in that time, it seems like eternity. 

Reality is, I was always this person, I just had no idea.