PLAYING WITH BALLS

A recent conversation got me thinking. Maybe it is just a woman thing or maybe I still have childish tendencies when it comes to games with balls.

The in length conversation was about my seven year old son and his playing football. The football club is run after school and due to the rain has been cancelled. I questioned the why they could not have football in the school hall; to this the reply was simple. ‘Kids don’t want to pass the ball weave in and out of 3 other players and tap the ball in. No they simply want to just boot the ball as hard as possible at the goal. They don’t care what direction it goes just want to kick the ball in the goal. School halls have windows.’  

This made a lot of sense to me and for those who know me the best will know why this called in to question my own behaviour.

When I ‘play’ football, I say play but by all means I don’t play! I, like kids simply just want to toe punt that ball as hard and as far as possible. Often my wicked right foot will send a ball a reasonable distance, the direction however is another matter. (Don’t stand there!)

Now I can smash up the balls on the pool table like a pro! Honest! I can smash em up and the balls them selves leap from their cosy felt table cloth. (I wouldn’t stand there either)

I love tennis. However, the people I play with don’t like me playing tennis. I like to swing and smack. Again not having much control as to where the ball goes makes for my opponents to do lots of running around. So I either need an unlimited amount of balls to hand or some ball boys/girls to run around fetching my awesomely hit balls.

Now I might sound like a total knob saying all this but I have to admit I can whack a golf ball with the golf club as well. Again, the fact it might be in a straight line? – Pure fluke!

Looking at it now, it is not hard to see my mentality when it comes to playing with balls. Could I slow it down, take some time; think about what I am doing when I am hitting the ball? Of course. Could I take the time to learn the hit the white ball in a strategic manner that will help me pot balls with intention rather than pure fluke and unpredictability? Sure.

Where is the fun in that?

Maybe it is not difficult to notice that I may have an impulsivity issues. Maybe I am a show off, ‘look at me,’ kind of a one trick pony though, I can boot the ball – over there. But that’s all I can do. I would not stand in front of me in any event. As if you are a guy you might be in danger of having another ball wedged with your own balls.

Could how I approach the above named games with balls and my approach to the game of life be seen as the same? If I stopped rushing in and just smacking the crap out of what I am doing and stood back, took a second, take a moment to breath, to take it all in, to take time to think about what I am doing, what I need to do, what I want to do, where I need/want it to go, and use a bit of strategy, would I be better at the game of life?

Would it surprise you that I am shit at chess?

CAN'T

Dear blogging world. I miss talking to you. You help me understand my mind. You help me see more clearly. However, right now I can't, I can't write, even though I have so much going in in my mind. My feelings are all over the place. I wish I could sit on a white sand beach with the waves lapping. I wish my mind could be clearer.

People that read my blogs will know that my mood is often all over the place and this phase is something that will pass.

I hope you've blogging mindless nonsense again soon.

Hope all readers are well.

Mel x

Sent from my iPhone

NO WONDER

It took me 25 minutes to move from laying down to sitting up on the edge of my bed. I then sat on my bed for a further 20 minutes before laying back down and pulling the cover over my head. Absolutely dying to go a wee, gagging for a fag and a drink, need to take some pills and get breakfast for my kids. Yet in my bed is where I want to be. No motivation, no real desire and no drive. No wonder I am single.

The sun is out the sky is blue. I have a couple of quid in my pocket. I have exam results to pick up- finally the wait is over! But fuck it I'll stay in bed, I'll break my promise to my son, I will ignore my ever increasing need to go to the toilet and I will submit to the bad day. No wonder I am single.

I am still laying down blogging from my phone as I feel so utterly shit and the time ticks on and the more and more i need to wee and need a drink and want a fag and need to take my pills, more and more I feel guilty at the thought of letting my son down, I feel disappointed in myself as I read back my poorly written words and hating my self pity, and lack of love for life.

However, the hour since the first awaking of self and now feeling a bit more motivated and feeling the urge to kick today's butt!

Thinking I am going to get my exam results as want to confirm I passed. Going to keep my promise to my son as if I fail at everything else in life I would like to think I tried to be the best mum I could be. So going to press send and share, fling my covers off and chew up Thursday like a stone cold mother fucker! Thanks for the chat! I feel better now.....

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DANCE FLOOR

As I stood with my back against the wall, I looked at all the couples that danced slowly together in the warmth of the red, green and blue disco lights, I couldn’t help but feel the pains of jealousy. I could see him at the bar. I ached for him to notice me. We hadn’t spoken 4 words to each other all night. I was avoiding him as I knew that I would be terribly obvious if I were to hover near him. I slowly pressed the straw to my lips as I took another slip of my drink. I quickly looked to see how much of the drink was left as then I would have the perfect excuse to go to the bar. Not even half full, for fuck sake. I can’t drink it straight down as I was on the verge of needing yet another wee. Having decided to wear the blue dress that needed the, ‘hold in tummy and bum’ shorts, a simple nip to the bathroom for a quick pee was unachievable. My eyes scanned the room. I had picked the perfect place to stand. I could see everyone entering and leaving. I could see the bar and I could see everyone that was dancing. My favourite thing to do was to watch people dance. Being a non drinker I have always found it highly amusing when drunken people get down and boogie. Give it another hour of the free bar and I am sure I’ll see someone try doing the worm!

wow -I love this song! I smiled as I found myself swaying from side to side. Fuck it I do love this song. I closed my eyes and start to remember the first time I ever heard the song and that for a number of months I was trying to find it, only I didn’t know what it was called or whom it was by. Finally a sentence of the lyrics came to me and thank you Google – I found the song and downloaded it before you could say snap!

I suddenly jumped and opened my eyes as someone tapped my right shoulder. I was so into my thoughts I had not noticed that he had walked up to me and was resting on the wall on the right, next to me with his drink in his left hand. I took in a deep breath and his scent squired around my head.  I fiddled with my straw as all of a sudden I become unable to talk. I looked up at him from facing down into my drink. His looking straight at me so I looked away and watched the  people dancing, I had stopped moving, in-fact I was ridged and it felt as if I could not move if I tried. I looked down at my feet checking that my dress was looking ok. Ok check. I started to fiddle with my hair, just making sure. I looked back at him and he was looking at me weird. Like he was waiting for me to say something, did he just ask me a question? Great now his going to think I am an ignorant twat. I looked up at him and smiled then I said, ‘what?’

He pushed himself off the wall and moved towards me. He placed his beer on the table that was on my left. He was very close to me. I felt myself leaning back. I was watching his every move with wide eyes. His hand moved towards my glass and I was staring as he gestured to take my drink. I slowly moved my glass towards his hand. He took my glass and placed it next to his on the table. Great now I have nothing to fiddle with. Feeling incredibly conscious of my hands I placed my hands behind my back and rest them palms down on the wall. Now he is standing right in front of me. I felt so nervous! He was not 12 inches away from me. I noticed just then how much taller than me, he was. I looked up at him.  I could see him getting ready to say something. I am examining his face, the colour of his skin, his clean shaven face, his lips, thin top lip and full bottom lip, his nose, straight and long, his hair, dark and full and how it flopped in front of his left eye. He shook his head and the hair moved back to the side, his eyes were deep blue.

The last time I was this close to him, those eyes were very annoyed with me. My stomach rolled and flipped and the buffer flies fluttered at the thought. He tilted his head to the right as he looked down at me. His eyebrows were lifted. I guess my feelings were written all over my face for him to see.

He moved closer to me, his eyes careful but welcoming. My heart squeezed. His hands brushed over my hips and before I could move he had taken my hands from the wall and was holding them in his hands. He looked at me and started to move back wards. He nodded his head towards to dance floor. I tugged back on his hand. Nooo Noooo dancing Nooo. He had his back to me but he looked over his shoulder and smiled, and like the idiot I followed. Fucking great – be careful what you wish for! I don't know why but it felt like everyone was looking at us? He stopped in the middle of the dance floor; other couples were still dancing, slowly.

He turned to face me; he dropped my hand and slowly moved closer to me. His hands ran up the top of my arms then up to my shoulders and then, his finger tips ran up my neck. His fingers moved into my hair I looked up at him as I let out a deep sigh. He moved his head down and rubbed his nose slowly and gently against mine while he held my head in his hands. My hands naturally rose to his waist and I rested my hands there. was there even a song playing? I closed my eyes. Was this really happening? I felt his nose move from mine and his lips then pressed on mine. Not for long. I returned the kiss. His hands moved to the back of my neck then his fingers ran down the middle of my back. He moved left to right and I followed him. As his hands moved down to my waist my hands moved up his back and around his neck. I moved in closer to him. I don’t care now fuck it- if it is a dream, then it is not going to matter now anyway.

I could feel his hands at the top of my bum. I moved my fingers into his hair. I let my head fall back a little moving in time with him. I loved his smell and how his hair felt in my hands. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment. I rested my head to the right. Just then I felt his hot breath on my neck. He kissed my neck then his lips moved up towards my ear. His hands moved up my back, I noticed that the song was about to finish but before it did, he whispered in my ear….

GETTING OLD..

Or getting smarter~?

Yesterday I turned 34. I did enjoy my birthday this year. I had lots of phone calls and texts, cards, messages, cakes, presents and chocolates.

I felt and do feel so special to my family. I feel accepted and loved. Thank you to everyone :)

Time for me to go take my cod liver oil!

I'M LOVING IT

I am loving the Olympics right now. I am loving that it is up the road from where I live. I am loving how proud of Great Britain I feel.

I love the interactive button on my TV remote that allows me to watch what I want when it is on.

The opening ceremony was awesome. Although my ignorance had me wondering,

‘Who is Danny Boyle -_- ‘

Bloody genius!

Day three and I am loving it!

Anyone else loving it?

STUBBED OUT

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DON'T ASK ME

Something so simple can throw me off my whole day. Do I need structure and planning in my life to feel safe? Uncertainty and surprises can make for an interesting life but when I need life to be dull and uneventful it's because I can feel that dark cloud above me.


Today I tried to have my whole day planned out. It is only 4pm and my day has in no way played out the way I hoped. Little things that change and big things equally throw me off. Don't ask me why as the only explanation I have ever thought that made sense, is anxiety and depression.


I have hidden for a while that I suffer with mental health issues. Shame mostly. I thought I could make myself better. Ignorance is bliss. Denial works, for a time. I hate that I suffer but since trying to understand the beast, those moments when I can't breath and cry, have started to make sense.


I have gone a while without having a panic attack. Today I had two.


Having a panic attack while at home is still shit but happy its happening at home. My first one hit me in the playground of my sons infant school. Not good. Forgot what I was doing, where I was going, wanted to get to my car but was a bit spaced out to get to it.
My only saving grace in these situations in my phone. So I made a phone call- that got me to my car. Here I say crying and shaking.


I wanted to get home- quick. I managed to gather myself enough to drive, while driving I was still taking deep breaths and concentrating on getting home. it was not until I pulled on to my drive that I realized I had dug my nails into my steering wheel.


once home and through the door i curled up and cried. I wanted to talk to someone, call someone. I wanted to call my brother. I didn't he would tell me I should have but he is on Holiday and I didn't want to ruin his day with my shit. 


It has been a long and trying couple of weeks for one reason or another and so it is no surprise ( now, now its all over ) that it all came to ahead. at the time everything feels huge but after it all don't seem rational.


 I am exhausted and so I have found myself hiding out in my comfortable place. Figured I would blog while it is all so fresh in my mind.




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SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIENDS...

 My fitness level is shocking. I am sure I was fitter than this. I must be getting old – fast. Having decided to pull all my energies into hating certain gym equipment I felt this might be something I should blog about. Not that I am out of subject matter. I just want to keep away from the pending, ‘anal sex’ blog for now.

Anyway... So meet my friend...

Mr. Tready – aka Mr. Safe

The treadmill – his a tad boring so I need to take some entertainment when I am using him. I can do him as slow or fast as I like... I can go up and down at my own leisure plus he is a nice chap he will blow cool air onto my face when I press his special button! I can go all day on him but I would get very bored! So 10- 20 minutes

My other friend

Mr. Ride aka Mr.Bumsore

The bike- his a little more interesting than tready, He hurts my arse more and makes me work for my distance.  I like the bike I like to ride his uncomfortable seat for a good 20 minutes. I can text from his place, whilst riding and never dropping my rph! I can even ride him while closing my eyes and day dreaming of other men!

and now ...

The bad boy... the one you love to hate...

The cross trainer! Aka – fucking bastard

Now he gives me a run for my money. His neither boring nor uncomfortable. He don’t let me text nor sing or talk for that matter. On some occasions this fucking bastard has be breathless and losing my entire bodies water contents through my skin. He don’t let me slow down nor close my eyes and think of anyone but him and his tick tock timer. His tick tock timer is something that seems to goad me on. I should – should be doing 20 minutes on this fucking bastard. However, I can not make that amount of time as of yet. Each time I try but he beats me and I have to stop. So far I am up to a whopping 12 minutes. This is an increase from my start of 5 minutes. But progress is progress right? The fitter I get the more I will kick his arse!

The one every woman should have...

Mr. Abs aka, crunch

This is a nice way of doing those horrid sit ups without doing sit ups... i like this one... 2 sets of 10 reps!

They are not the only machine I attempt. I can not for the life of me think of what the names of the other machines are called. Other than, the one that does your arms, the one that you twist yourself to the side and the one you open with your thighs!

I think that will do for now. 

ACHOOOO

It was so calm; so quiet, I could hear the 3 birds that do live close to my house.  I could hear the cars travelling down the road. I lay stretched out enjoying the sunshine and the piece and quiet. Then out of no where, the loudest Achoooooooooooooo you had ever heard. So loud I swear they could hear it 3 towns over. It was so loud it scared the living shit out of me.

Cheers- Ryan!

I had forgotten he was even in the house. (Playing the Xbox) His sneeze startled me and it was not even in the same room as me.

Achooooooooooooooo

 Another one! Bloody hell Ryan can you sneeze a bit less loudly please?  I would like to say that this was one of the first times I have complained about Ryan’s sneezing but alas.

 I asked him many years ago,’ why o why do you have to allow your sneeze to be an almightily, out the nose and out your mouth?’ an a a a a a achooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  In reply he said,’ well I don’t mind sneezing so if ya going to do it, do it good.’  He then asked me,' why do you hold yours in?'

Anyone will know you can not simply hold a sneeze in. I do however squeak when I sneeze as I tense my whole body up so I do not explode in a massive achhhhhoooooooo. Does that lessen the sensation that sneezing induces? Not from where I sit. 

My face may well look all distorted and look very much like I am sucking on bitter lemons but I do this in order to lessen the outward sound of sneezing but the relief is still there.

Don’t get me wrong Ryan is a good lad but he dose suffer from gay fever – I mean hay fever and so the sneezing this time of year can start to grate. While in the car with him when he sneezes the sneeze is ear piercingly loud. While sitting minding your own business he will have a fit of 5 or 6 super loud super snotty sneezing. I wish I could tell you that it was only during the summer but when he has a cold he also sneeze's the same – snot and spittle being spread everywhere -  nice one Ryan.

achoooooooooo

I have been known to suffer on occasion with hay fever symptoms and some might remember last year I blogged about it.  I had only started to suffer recently and I would claim that I have a severe case. (Probably a normal case to veteran hay fever sufferers) but mine was a doosey.

My nose was like the never ending tap of snot, eyes didn’t stop watering and sneeze, sneeze sneeze all the way home.

achoooooooooooooooo

As many might know that 7 sneezes is the equivalent of an orgasm, so it is no hardship dealing with the sneeze. However, my nose did not stop running. So unattractive. In order to clear some of that mega snot, I would allow myself a full nose sneeze. Permitting my 102 miles per hours sneeze to blow through and clear out my nose (into a tissue of course).

Although, in true Melidiot fashion it will not surprise you that I have sneezed from my nose without a tissue.

Slightly embarrassing –totally –

Messy – extremely-

Refreshing – absolutely.

And so my moan about Ryan’s stupidly loud sneezing comes to an end.

COUGH*

***WARNING***

ADULT -SEXUAL CONTENT

I was debating if I should post this. Only as I know there are a few people that might not enjoy it. I have opinion about most things and this is just another silly niggle.  Now I want to just establish that this is my own thoughts and my own feelings on the topic and it is my own issues to why I feel what I feel and think what I think. I will give ya 50 guesses – what it is about...

Now before y’all get all, 'who does she think she is,' I know my station and I know I am not taken seriously as a writer. I self published a book – big whop that don’t make me some expert on book writing so my opinion is just from a book lovers view.

Yep you guessed it ‘fifty shades of grey’ you would need to be living under a rock to not have heard the hype on this fantastic book series. Now I have no issue with the writer or the writing. The writer has given the public a brilliant, relatable and addictive totally enchanting read! No question.

However, having read this book I could not help but have a massive feeling of déjà- vu any other twilight fans out there feeling this? It all seems a bit similar. Granted I have not read the second nor the third book but I have heard that ‘grey' goes missing for a while in the second book and then comes back. Hum really – new moon?

 Anyway yes the sex stuff is sooo not twilight I felt that was very clever. For those people out there that have used computers and internet longer than a decade might remember that kind of thing online – back then it was called cybering!

It doesn’t take a genius to write smut. It just takes someone horny that dreams of that touch that makes your heart flutter. Most writers (as I imagine) can write love as much as they can write sex. Describing feelings and sensations is what writing is about – shit

He rested his body against the car door, looking cool and confident. bastard. I knew what he wanted. He had a weird fascination with wanting people to see us. So it was no surprise that in the middle of a brightly lit, busy car park he was baiting me to move closer to him. I could see in his eyes that he wanted me to kiss him right there and then.

“What?” I ask

He lifts his chin and smiles with a wicked glint in his baby blue eyes. I have to admit he was looking rather gorgeous in the black shirt; I loved it when he left his top two buttons undone. I could feel myself smile he knew he had me – hook line and sinker. I move slowly towards him. One step at a time. The heat flushes through me as I know the kiss I will share with him will take me to another place. I loved kissing this sexy man in front of me. I kept my eyes on his. 

Another step I am inches away from his body. I lean towards him resting my hands on the car door one each side of his shoulders. I can smell him, Paul Smith. mmyummy. He knows me so well, not a single day has gone by when I have not fancied this man. I move a little closer and my breasts gently brush against his shirt. His smiling, I tilt my head and slowly move my face closer to his. He moves his face towards mine, and moves his hands from his pockets to my hips. He holds me firmly. I slowly brush my nose on his looking at his eyes. His excited. hehehe I slowly brush my top lip over his plump moist bottom lip. His mouth is slightly parted, I slowly and gently brush my tongue over his top lip, and I feel his breath on my mouth. He pulls me against him and presses his lips on mine, slowly sliding his tongue into my mouth. One of his hands ssweeps down to cup my arse and the other slides up under my top and rests it on the small of my back. I move my hands from leaning on the car to the back of his neck where I slide my fingers into his hair, he holds my body close to his pushing himself against me. I close my eyes and let him take me to that place. Completely forgetting we are standing in a busy car park in a multi complex with hundreds of people around.

Cough *

Can you see me poking my tongue out now?

Anyway back to the point.The whole story drove me nuts. Only because it was everything I hate in a man – at the start he just wanted the sex. He didn’t want the love – 'I don’t make love – I fuck hard’ ass-hole! Me- I am all about the love. I guess that is what I am a twilight fan!

I won’t lie the book- the novel that I am currently working on and have been for a number of years has some sex scenes. It also has hot women and cars in it. – The hype has made me want to get it done. I have the summer holidays to finish the manuscript and get it sent off to see if I can get picked up! This book is my baby and it is not going out until it is totally 100% ready. The thing that I now have to decide is whether I continue on with a psychology module for that the summer time or to write. I have deffo got the writing bug back. So hard to know what to do...

Sorry to the readers that didn’t enjoy this post.

WAITING....

And so the waiting continues. Two weeks into the wait for exam results. Has it really been 2 weeks? Feels like 20! Only on the waiting game, the rest of the day’s activities seem to just fly by. The half term has been and gone and as of tomorrow the kids and I are back to school and college, which is weird, being as I have completed my portfolio and exam, yet I still have to attend college. Can’t imagine what we will do other than look at next year (something we have already done and exhausted) and there is still no guarantee that there will be a class local next year. Might mean a weekly drive to Colchester – nice!

Since my last post about my fat ass, I have not done a great deal to diet or exercise, which is sad to admit. However, this week the start of weight watchers and yoga 3 times a week. Zumba 2 times a week and soon to join the gym, I have plans in place to beat the bulge.

Why is this time different?

I personally feel that this is one question that a weight watcher leader should ask anyone that has attempted the programme before. Clearly the having to re-join is proof enough that the pervious joining was an epic fail. Myself like many have failed - with no weight loss. Failed to stay interested, failed to bother. Achieved a weight loss but gained back plus some. So really why is this time different for me. Have I had a massive shock to my health that has made me frighten into working on my health? Has being alone for a while helped me see that being over weight is unattractive and my belly n arse will never win me the nice gentleman friend that I deep down wish for? No and no.

Granted I have often said that no one will ever want me or love me because of the way I look. This was a stupid thought. I understand that looks are on some level important. But they are no way the means to an end. I also appreciate that men like to look at someone with legs up to the armpits and ooze sex, however I have come to see that is an ego thing, and not all men want that as the main reason to be with someone. (the trophy wife?)

It is all a bit deeper than that and I can see that now. So I can be comfortable with the fact that my personality and my heart, my soul and my essence is what will be the main elements of love. The reason this time is different, is because this time I know it is for me. It is not to win someone, impress someone, keep someone, and make someone love me. This is for me to feel comfortable in my skin as I am comfortable with whom I am. So some food changes and some active living will help me feel better about me. I want to like shopping for clothes, normal size clothes from the nice shops! I know I can do it as I have done it before. My reasons have changed but my goals are achievable so onward and upward my friends.

·        * I ‘m trying to think of something melidiot that I have done recently.*

Nope can’t think of anything, totally distracted by the TV – ah yes TV I am so into my trashy TV right now. I am fighting the urge to watch big brother!

Be back with more soon....

OVERWEIGHT PART THREE - THE END

Smelly bitches! Wow stink fest!

Sigh* yes there is more. I know right. I don’t blog for 2 months and then bam bam bam I knock out 3 in one morning. I figured fuck it, just let it all go.

So basically I have to stop hating me, or hating the new me. Or stop hating the fact that the real me has flaws. It is funny thing forgiveness. More recently my mum and I had a conversation about forgiveness and holding grudges. Something’s are hard to let go of. Even if I went around to each and every person I had done shitty things to or said shitty things to or behaved in a shitty way towards (if they would even talk to me) would I be able to forgive myself for the things I have done?

That is the question I am working on this week.

That brings me on to the other more dominating stress in my life. Forgiving someone else for doing something shitty to someone I love. How do I forgive my son’s blood relation for leaving, not once, not twice but four times over his 13 years? Some might think the reason behind him leaving could warrant such an act. What if I were to say they simply choose their new family over their son?

Would that make the ability to forgive harder? Should I be blogging about this? Probably not But it chews me up inside. Having started to question myself and my actions in an attempt to make sure I am doing the right thing and not being a bastard. I often run thoughts and feelings by family and friends. I am sure they could well get the hump with this as it seems to be happening a lot. what I can not forget is, my son’s pain and I watch him still suffer to this day with ideas of abandonment, desertion and rejection. Now the fact my son’s blood relative has crawled out from whatever rock they were under for the last 4 years is the reason for the internal debate of what is the right thing to do for my son.

This hangs heavy in my heart and mind a lot these days. Perhaps I should not be connecting my own internal need to forgive myself with the actions of someone else. For some strange reason it is hard not to. It feels like a hypocritical contrition. Forgiveness is forgiveness right? Regardless of the reasons behind the actions that cause for the forgiveness.

I have often said life is all about timing and I feel that this timing between the two things I am struggling with is a test for me. I do believe in god and I do believe in paths and I wish I could separate one thing from the other but what if this is my test on forgiveness. Can I ever forgive the pain they caused my son? Can I ever forgive myself? I guess time will show that as most things reveal themselves at some point.

One thing I can tell you is that the clumsy idiot is still very much me. I still repeatedly do really moronic things and embarrass myself endlessly. Only yesterday, early on set dementia caused me to leave my cash card in the chip n pin doodahh in the shop. Being screamed and yelled at to come back to a massive line of customers that were waiting for the cashier to hand me my card back. Nice. smile and wave boys... just smile and wave. So much for my wanting to be invisible eh.

So this is me signing off for now.

OVERWEIGHT PART TWO

You may well be thinking, ok where is she going with this. I am wondering why you even still reading this. When wondering that, I find myself answering the question with, maybe you have known me my whole life and had a sneaky suspicion I was faking my confidence. Maybe you want to know me, to understand me. Maybe you can relate to some of the things I am sharing. I hope that is not the case as feeling pretty shit about your self is in no way fun.

I feel like I have been chasing the person I used to be. The person I remember being happy and ‘carefree’ or at least giving off a good representation of being carefree. I convinced myself for a while there. For a time I missed who I was and would try so hard to get her back. Even yesterday in a post I say, ‘I miss me’ today I recognise that I will never be that person again. I am not that person anymore. And I should feel happy about this as that person was not real. That person was a bastard and did shitty things, said shitty things and hurt people in a defence to being hurt. That person has gone.

How I got to this point

The direction I have taken more recently in my counselling course has a lot to do with this. The course is fundamental on personal reflection and self awareness. This in turn has made me stop and look at the things I was doing, saying and how I was behaving. At first the idea of showing the real me, made me want to run away from the whole thing. I wanted to withdraw from the course and not bother. It just so happens I was in my own personal therapy at the time and my therapist pointed out that what was so bad about being seen for who I am. Was I scared I would not be liked?

I had openly admitted that I have an uncanning ability to piss people off. It was almost like I did this on purpose. (Unknowingly) so why was I scared of being disliked? It was more about acceptance. I was scared that the real me would not be accepted. The fake defensive, arrogant, un-trusting, wary, sarcastic self was fine with being disliked as I would use the, ‘you don’t know me’ as a defence to that.

( I wonder if any of this is making sense- plus one of the kittens has done a shit and my god it fucking stinks! It is rather distracting)

So in an attempt to move forward with something new, rather than chasing something that was not real and that has gone I find myself feeling a little better. Although it pains me to tear myself from something I know so well. Those defences were in place a very long time and so it will take a lot of hard work to stop myself from putting them back. I feel that posting this into the cyber land I am in a way acknowledging the change and acceptance of these facts.

The counselling course has been a journey, a journey that is no way over. I have taken the first steps to be a better person. A real person showing my real vulnerability and weaknesses, a person that people will want to know, even if that person is not perfect, happy, sexy, confident and out going.  

I Suppose I should go clean up the cat shit. Have a good day everyone thank you for letting me share.

Mel

OVERWEIGHT PART ONE

I may not be able to bring you some outstanding witty posts right now but I can bring you some of my own personal writing. I have mentioned on many occasions that blogging helps me feel better so I am taking a selfish stand to do exactly that.

My being over weight causes me a great deal of emotional and mental confusion. I was a chubby child. As I grew from being a school girl to a young lady the need to feel self obsessed was not there. Have I always had an issue with body image? Yes. Do I have an ongoing destructive relationship with food? Yes. Do I have psychological issues with food and myself? Yes. Have I repeatedly tried to beat all this down? Yes, yes, yes. 

Some of you might know my weight has yo yo’d over the years. The bottom line in all this is that I hate myself. I feel tremendous amounts of guilt for the things I have done, said and how I have behaved and how I have treated people. People that love me the most. I have a fantastic defence system in place to protect me from being hurt, to stop me from being seen as vulnerable and weak. I have only recently acknowledged I really do suffer with depression and more so anxiety. 

My defences protect me from showing these facts. I have spent a lot of time acting to people that I am ok and I am happy and nothing seems to bother me. Many people may have seen right through this and some might have picked up on something not being quite right with me, thus making them wary of me. But for me I felt I did a pretty good job at pretending I was something I really was not.

So having all this newly acquired self awareness should help me tackle my ever increasing weight. You would think. However, looking at my own self has caused some much more sadness and guilt. The process takes time and I am currently working through it all.

Looking back at how it all started was not too much fun so I will skim over it. I was not really aware of what I looked like as a teenager, nor did I care too much. I didn’t spend much time putting on make up and making a statement with my clothes. I used to shop lift a lot of make up as a child but sold that on to others that always seemed to look nice. 

I only really became more aware when I was working in the salon. I was faced daily with mirrors, mirrors that showed every part of my weight problem looking back at me.  I was moaned at daily for not wearing enough make up and so I did start to pay attention. I had my hair colour and style changed and I did lose weight. I had a boyfriend at this point so I was fairly comfortable with myself. 

some family members might remember attending my wedding to this ‘man’ as real names are not an option today I think we should rename him as, cockjugglingthunderc*nt.

So..married – baby – divorce – cervical cancer scare – meeting new man- giving up smoking- married- baby- happy-divorce- alone- single- relationship- single – relationship-single- alone…

My weight has often reflected what has been going on in my life. My happiness I guess you could say.

So here I am alone and so far away from bothering with any romance it's unreal. I figured I would work on making me better before I tried to fix any one new I meet. ( another fantastic quality I have to feel great about myself)

I hate shopping, mainly as looking in the mirror at myself makes me feel so shit I want to cry. I hate being naked. I hate how I see myself. I worry about what people think when they see me. I worry what my children think; I worry what my children’s friends think. I worry I embarrassed my children. I worry what my family think. I worry I will be judged. The idea that, I am just simply a lazy bastard that sits around eating, is going through someone else’s mind is embarrassing and causes me shame. Shame as it at times, is true.

I can’t justify it at all. We all like a bit of TV and some comfort food. I could be doing other things that are not damaging to my physical and mental health. Sometimes lifting myself up to do that is not so easy and some times it feels more natural to be active and busy.  Having more lazy days than active days seems to happen more over the winter months.

My guilt and shame pull me back under. I become a hermit. I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to be seen. I don’t want anyone to know.

I am going to stop and post before I delete the whole page of writing.

CIRCLES

As I have not blogged for a while and I am unable to continue my on line study with the Open University as the site seems to have gone down for 10 minutes. I figured I would throw a quick post in.

Yes it is that time of the year again. Assessments and Exams. Lovely. Some might say. After 30 weeks and over 60 something hours of work, if you don’t know it now, you never will! But not me I plan on cracking this one wild open. Confident? Nah denial my friends!

Posting a blog as been something I have wanted to do a lot recently. I said at one time or another that I feel better when I have blogged. That, ‘blogging it out’ is almost a personal therapy for the mental process. Unfortunately I have not been able to blog about more recent disturbing and emotional turmoil events in my life. I have at times blogged about personal issues and had no problem letting the world see what is going on in my head, in my life. 

However, this time although I am within the middle of it all, it is not me that is directly affected. (Something I have come to admit more recently) yes the events have my opinions and emotions twisted up but I feel it is not something I can blog about. And not really out of any respect to person or persons involved as some of you might know what I am talking about. and know I wouldn’t piss on some people if they were on fire. So sadly I can not vent and rant and moan and whine on about shit that is happening right now ( in that department)

What I can tell you is that I have felt down and rubbish because of ‘ stuff’ but has my dip in mood been  because I am not blogging out my venting annoyances? This leaves me whirling around in circles. I think I need to talk shit out. I need to vent and moan and groan (<- I spelt that right this time.) I have often taken a great deal of pleasure in taking the piss out of my self... hey wait a minute who stole my fucking sense of humour? In fact who stole my mojo, libido and my self esteem for that matter? I miss myself and my wicked humour at times. I miss the sunshine. What the fuck with all this rain I normally have a nice amount of sun damage to my skin by now. (Ok the moaning seems to be helping, it just flows out. My fingers just want to rant rant rant. )

I bet the OU website is up now and I should go back to understanding psychology and about quantitative and qualitative research!

Exam’s are at the end of the month and then day school in June. I have not had much time to write for pleasure and I guess this too has something to do with my mood. My confidence took a bash after my book was riddled with mistakes. Seemed every one I spoke to after that would then tell me of more mistakes. Thank you! Yes I took it all a bit personally. It hurt and it frustrated me as it was not something I could simply change on the spot. After many revisions of the book, the copy on sale now at lulu and Amazon should be almost mistake free but at this point if it has a mistake, bollocks! I have not made anything from writing the book about my son. I have paid out more than anything. And the little revenue I did get was not enough to buy a pack of fags. I did it for the love. I know now what I did wrong and I happened to learn the hard way – live it- learn it- so when I do get round to finishing part two. I will know what to do and what not to do.

But first back to the studying……

GRAMMAR NARTZI

It has been a while since I have posted. I have been a busy little rabbit. I have been getting my first self published book on as many shelves as humanly possible. The whole process has left me feeling defeated and exhausted. Looking at covers, themes, layouts, text size, page size, book dimensions, pictures, and of course word editing. True to Mel form I play a tight game and I refused to pay for an editor. I was offered this option many times over but I did not take it. Was this a mistake? I am not sure as the days and weeks have rolled past I have come to think it might have been a good idea to pay someone to correct my clearly unprofessional writing. Now the reason I didn’t want an editor, was for one, I am tight. Yes it is true! I was once told something not very politically correct, ‘Mel I swear there is Jew in you,’ I maybe tight but it is a case of having to be. Secondly, I love writing and yes I wanted my son’s story in the form of a book. Could I have just got one copy for me and my son and the world would be none the wiser? Perhaps but then the journey, ‘little feet,’ included so many family members that watched the same events unfold and felt the same fear and joy. How could I deprive any family member their own personal connection with my son?

The vanity issue, for me it was not really vanity. I was in fact terrified of sending my writing out into the big wide world, (past my blog anyway) I worry I would get tracked down and shot by the Grammar nartzi. However, my son was very excited to have a book that was about him. He was excited; He wanted to hold it in his hands, to take it to school, to read it during his silent reading and to show his friends. I continued the editing process. I did gain some help. I asked my old English tutor to proof read and correct mistakes that she see. I left the manuscript with her for a week. By this time I had already received 3 proof copies, all with different layouts and covers to choose from. I showed these around and there seemed to be a collective of what cover was favourite. Once I got my marked manuscript back I was a tad disappointed to see so much red ink on the pages. Rewording, spelling, grammar, writing tense and accountability to the people named in the book. This made me tired and all I wanted to do was take a nap. I left it for a couple of days.

My son asked me again when the book will be ready and asked me if he could take one of the proof copies. I quickly said no, knowing that the proof copies where pre proofread and were riddled with mistakes. I told him to wait a little longer. So 10 pm on that Friday night after he went to bed I spent the entire night, no lie, the whole night editing from the marked manuscript. I was tired; I had not pulled an all nighter for years. I went to bed around 5.30 but the file on my computer was bothering me.

Around 11am Saturday morning I went back to the book. I read it again and checked one last time for any mistakes.  I then uploaded that file to the site that was going to print the book. I redesigned the cover to what most people liked and then, crunch time. Do I want another proof copy sent before final publishing? This moment for me was difficult. I had been told repeatedly about mistakes made in the proof books. So that had me hovering over the yes button before I thought bollocks.

Every single time I went back to the file on my computer I changed something. I reworded things on the idea of someone reading it and what they thought of my grammar and spelling and such. I got myself so wound up and upset that I just said, ‘That is it,’ I simply clicked, ‘no’ and tadaa my book was available on amazon.com ready to buy.

Since then my own copy of the book has been received and after reading a few pages what did my eyes find? Yep, a mistake, a word missing, a fuck up. I can not tell you how heavy this played on my mind and in my heart. Again it is decision time. But not yet as I have the option to add more sites to my distribution and I had clicked that button without hesitation. So if I go back and redo the whole process again I have wait more time, spent more hours reading, re-reading, and probably changing my writing. By this time it felt like the point of the book was lost.

I took some time and spoke to some friends and questioned what should I do. I am fully aware that if the general public happen to buy this book, they might not like the price and then to read a book that has mistakes in it? This fact, again hung heavy on my shoulders in my tummy and in my heart.

The writing of little feet was a personal project, my feelings, my life, my son, my family and my thoughts are all on display. I thought about it for a while and I thought no, noooooooo. I had written on the first 2 pages, a quote,

  “I wondered for a while where I should start this story from. I believe that this starting point is a key moment in my life. I felt I would make an attempt to recall the run up and start of my son’s life and my own journey into motherhood. This story might not be fantastic and you may find spelling and grammar mistakes but it is all true and real. I feel I should warn readers that there is a little bit of swearing. I hope that you enjoy the ‘Little Feet’, the first part of my recollection of the events.”

I warned that it was not perfect. I warn that I am a novice at this but that the story means more than whether I placed a comer in the right place or spelt a word wrong. The story matters to me but with people paying money should the presentation matter more?

The whole process has caused many sleepless nights and a lot of stress and worry. However, that all went away last night, when I watched my son, sitting reading his own story. When I see him I felt peace as that was what all this was about. I have given my son something only I could give him.

So for me, the book sales, grammar, spelling, swearing and poor writing aside, it is the story that matters.  

NEWS

Good morning blog reading world.

I have not thanked everyone for a while so I would like to thank you all now for your continued support.

As some of you might already know, the story I wrote and posted called, ‘little feet’ has now been made into a book.

OMG I wrote a fucking book!

The paper back version is on his way to me now and I have to review the proof copy before it can be sold. However, I was advised to consider getting it in the kindle store. So that is what I did.

The first part of the story is called Little Feet and is currently available in the kindle store on the Amazon website.

Once the proof copy of my book is reviewed by me and a couple of key people then that too will be on sale via Amazon.

I feel excited and scared at the idea of my writing being out in the world in this way. Most had already read the story so I feel a little less anxious about that.

I have always welcomed feedback from others as I feel that is helps me improve on anything that is lacking. I guess I have always questioned my own abilities in writing. I worry that readers will be disappointed as they are not simply reading my silly blog.

The last 4 days have been amazing and I have felt a great deal of accomplishment and support from family and friends.

I have other writing projects that I now feel confident to get ready for publishing. Putting, ‘little feet’ out there is a small step that means a big deal. I have already got all my plans in place to carry on the story. This part will be called, ‘Board Shoulders’ I could let you all have a sneaky peek of some of that writing.

So there it is. I did something I wanted to do about something that means a lot to me. Be it good, be it bad I hope that anyone that follows the stories about the struggles of premature parenting enjoy my take all the same.

Hope everyone has a wonderful Sunday. J

Mel

BRB

New and exciting information to be shared soon….

Just as soon as I have got a little sleep!

Stay tuned J

SEE! SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I DON'T HAVE ANY HOMEWORK!

I tend to blog utter bollocks, so here it is.

Today I coloured my hair. Sadly I have more than a few grey hairs and being a dark haired lady I need to keep them under control.

Today I used a new product and I feel I should tell you about it.

Garnier’s 1st Nourishing Foam Colour. 

This was the first time I had used this foam style colour and just let me say….

don’t bother its bloody crap!

Sure it doesn't drip but the bottle/can you need to repeatedly pump makes one fine mess. There must be an art to angling this product. An art  I didn’t catch on to at all. Not only did my hair turn out a fine, ‘iced mocha’ colour, so did my top, my arms, my neck, my face, my hands ( and yes I was wearing gloves) my bathroom side and strangely my foot!  

Oh and it made my head itch like a bastard! I have coloured my hair for years and years! and I normally stay with the same ‘off the shelf’ colour. This messy bastard product was 3.99 in Tesco (my top is fucked and it cost more than £3.99) Money…so yea that is why I tried it.

Have I got anything nice to say about this product?

Well yes actually I do…. (Hang on I forgot what it was …) oh yea that’s it. The conditioner (nourishing mask) smelt fucking gorgeous

BAD ROMANCE – 100 WORDS OF WRITING

You and I know each other so well. 

When I feel your presence, my eyes widen and my pupils dilate.

I hate that on the days you are with me, I have to break plans.

My whole day becomes about you. 

As much as it pains me to say it, after many years of pushing you away, I have finally accepted you in. 

I have had to, I’ve had to understand you and change my world around you. 

You have such a pull on my life, but you are part of me whether I like it or not.

MY ODE TO I.B.S 

OH I DON'T KNOW...

My dad and I have many funny and amazing conversations some might say I am a lot like my dad some … may not. However, one thing my dad and me have in common is that we both smoke. (At this moment in time he had given up – I think) anyway, and as both smokers we often take a defensive stance when the constant opinion is said about how unhealthy smoking is.

As you well know, according to research heart disease is still the biggest killer in the UK and the world as a whole. Smoking, which is one of the contributory factors of lung and heart diseases and is responsible for one in ten deaths worldwide.

The growing problem with obesity in adults and children is equally as important. An example of my own child’s ignorance; He did pester me to give up smoking. So I have tried many times. He praised me for not smoking on this particular day. I had asked him before hand, why he doesn’t want mummy to smoke and true to form he stated, ‘it will give you cancer and you will die.’ In the next breath, can we go to Mac Donald’s? Imagine my frustration when I hear my child say, ‘don’t smoke because it will/can kill you.’ but scoffing down a big Mac and fries, clearly won’t. I am over weight and it is killing me daily, my body is shot to shit and I know it. I try so hard to develop a healthy life style, like most I am sure.

A lot of people might not see the difference I am trying to emphasize here.

Both my dad and I quickly ask the question...

Is there a, heart disease, stroke, clogged artery warning on a stick of butter? Is that not as dangerous to health as a pack of fags? Oh I don’t know! I am ranting!

But it did make me think while I stood in Tesco looking at cat food. The words ‘get the dry food as it is better for them.’ Was ringing around in my mind. Then I think, better for them how exactly? Will it help them concentrate at ‘cat school’? No wait it will help them get a better job? It will cause me less trips to the vets? The same way eating healthy, not smoking, drinking and doing drugs will prevent me from getting any kind of breast, ovarian, cervical, or brain cancer, dementia, Multiple sclerosis (MS) or Parkinson's disease!

Right of course.

It will help them have less stinky poop? Ohh I get it, they will live longer! I am prolonging their life by buying dry food and not wet food? Got it!  Is that the same as you can’t mix your SMA baby milk and leave in the fridge for 24 hours now? You have to mix it before you feed your infant. Years passed and many a parent, me included, did in fact make bottles and they lasted 24 hours. Was that unhealthy for my child back then? If so who can I sue? Wet food for cats as been around for as long as I can remember so what is different now? Have they found out that wet food reduces the life span of a cat? Having taken some time to look up the main causes for cats to die, I can report that the main cause is trauma... then heart disease.

Cats also play the game of life with a fist full of chance. Just like us. But while I was in Tesco I did pick my children up some tasty treats and something nice for dinner. When I treat my children to occasion take away, Mac Donald’s, biscuit, sweet or treat am I then lessening their life span?  I may well be rolling on about utter bollocks but I guess the question was in my head so I felt the need to get it out.

In an ideal world we would all eat right and live a healthy life style and this would be seen as having a better advantage of living longer. You would think. Sadly for me I am not sure it works as simple as that. I have seen smokers live into their late 80’s and non smokers, healthy people die before they hit 50. There is a grey area here for me. I guess I have managed to rationalise it by telling myself, you just don’t know when it is your time to go. (I need a map to the ideal world thank you very much...Oh I don’t know!)

Rant concluded at 10.30am

Mel

(References)The places I looked

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1476412/pdf/canvetj00001-0065.pdf

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/7151813.stm

http://fullfact.org/blog/cause_of_death_statistics_health_mortality-2866

WOOKIE

Click on Chewbacca

Most people will know this noise, it is classic!  And as most parents to a teenager will know, the new English is.. infact...grunts and noises that often sound like wookie. ( or kevin and perry) This wookie sound is the sound I have started to make back at my son, when things don’t go right and other annoying moments in life.

To name but a few

…Wookie moan number one,... waking up from a codeine induced nap with bed hair, running from the house to then notice in the rear view mirror that my hair is wild. Happy to notice it was raining so I pulled off bad hair in a truly impressive manner. –WOOKIE-

..Wookie moan number 2, having exited my car very quickly I did not tuck my seat belt in and so it was hanging outside the car all day, all raining day long. –WOOKIE-

.... Wookie moan number 3, my favourite CD starts to jump around and then stop.  Nice! Nice and scratched. –WOOKIE-

… the teacher asking for a ‘quick word’ –WOOKIE- ............More wookie another time ( we love you chewwieeee )

*cough*

People might be aware that if you drop your child off late at school 3 or more times, they do flag you and send out a letter just reminding you to make sure you make more effort to get your child to school on time. In terrific melidiot fashion, I am sometimes late and so I have to sign in the book, with a reason.

My top reasons for being late

‘I am not late YOU’RE early.’

‘Red, light, red light, red light and stupid people.’

I was busy updating my face book status.’

You could ask yourself, did I really write these reasons or did I simply write, ‘Traffic or running late.’??  

So if you had not guessed I often yell –SHABBA- for good things and –WOOKIE- for the bad. I think this saves me shouting out vulgar language J

Mel