On a new year

I know I should probably apologise for not writing in ages (to who? I don’t know. You probably don’t care all that much. Maybe myself? *shrugs*), but I can’t quite muster the words. I haven’t written because I haven’t had the time, or I haven’t needed to. I can’t resolve to write more in this new year either, as Lord knows whether I’ll stick to it. So let’s just see where the next few months take us and leave it at that.

As we dip our toes into a new year, however, it feels like a good time to dust off my quill (read: keyboard) and parchment (read: screen) and proffer a few musings on the year that must not be named. 2016 was a lot of things to a lot of people (mostly rubbish to all), but it would be a shame to tar my personal experience of it with the brush of collective experience. Yes, a lot of people died. Yes, the world appears to be going to hell in a hand basket. But it’s easy for the overall awfulness of 2016 to overwhelm any individual, personal memories. And, to be honest, on a personal level 2015 was far and away more rubbish for me than 2016. 2015 saw me get my heart broken (mostly through my own stubbornness), a lot of general uncertainty and unhappiness, and my Dad getting ill which (obviously) cast a dark shadow over the latter half of the year. By contrast, 2016 actually saw a reversal of fortune for me in a lot of ways.

At the start of the year, something kind of unexpected happened: I met a Nathan. (Having written that in such odd phrasing has made me stop and consider the fact that there have actually been very few Nathans in my life up until this point…maybe 3 in total? That doesn’t seem like many over the course of 29 years, does it?) I had resolved over Christmas 2015 to stop moping about my broken heart and put myself out there a bit more, and astonishingly – as I might argue on a day when I have somewhat less self-esteem – it worked out for the best. In less than a week, we will be celebrating our one-year anniversary, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Against all odds, I have found someone who compliments me perfectly, and brings me hulking great chunks of happiness whenever we’re together. I owe a lot of my happiness in 2016 to him, and though I think he knows that I certainly don’t think that means it’s not worth saying. (Sappy though that may well be). Oh, and he’s tall. So…you know…that helps.

Around the middle of the year, something else great started to happen: Dad’s health started to improve. Though we didn’t get there without a lot of pain and frustration (and more than one unexpected set-back), thanks to the wonders of modern medicine we did start to get there. Come the autumn of 2016, my Dad was looking like my Dad again. He was walking with less pain and less effort. He was smiling and laughing more. And – most importantly – he was spending a hell of a lot less time in and out of hospitals. Though the road we’re on is an ongoing one, we left 2016 feeling a lot lighter and brighter than we did leaving 2015. And God, isn’t that something?

A lot of other moments of greatness dotted through my 2016 to generally lift my spirits and distract from the global and local gloom. Though the prospect of searching for new housemates was a daunting one, in the middle of the year I managed to luck out and find two particularly excellent individuals to share my flat with me. Alice and Olivia have – counter to the horror stories you hear about finding flatmates online – turned out to be sociable, fun flatmates and generally excellent company. I also saw one of my oldest friends get happily married (and one not so old friend too), and embraced the certainty that I am now entering the “all weddings, all the time” phase of my life with a smile. Over the course of the year I made some new friends, reconnected with some old ones, and was reminded of just how many wonderful and interesting people I know.

I don’t exactly know what 2017 will hold. Putting to one side the inevitable passing of the 30 year milestone that will happen at the tail end of it, I’m mostly hoping it will hold change – but good change. I’m hoping the grey clouds that are gathering politically and internationally won’t turn into a storm of irreversible proportions. And I’m hoping there will be enough small bright lights in my personal life that – as with 2016 – even the darkest bits of the year won’t seem so bad.

So cross fingers and toes with me folks. We may be in for a bumpy ride, but even the most terrifying of rollercoasters have ups as well as downs, eh? Breathe in deeply as the ride begins…and try not to throw up when it gets rough, I suppose. 

On embracing small h happy

I've spoken about this before, and I'm sure I'll continue banging on about it for as long as the internet will have me...but anyone who says that being happy is easy is a bloody liar. Well, either that, or they should consider themselves supremely lucky. I feel like we're all told to strive for “big H Happy” - and there's a pervasive notion that your life won't be complete until you've found it. 

The “big H Happy”, however, is elusive. Or it has been for me. It's not entirely “Happy’s” fault - of late, it's been fighting against some pretty stacked odds. Aftershock from some nasty heartbreak? Check. Illness in the family? Check. Loss of a beloved family pet? Check. The kind of work stress that bleeds into your life and makes you wake up in a cold sweat? Check. Encroaching uncertainty about what to do next? Check. So I can't blame “Happy” for struggling to push through all of that noise. 

I have a solution though. I'm not trying for “big H Happy”: I'm taking small slices of “small h happy” where I can, and building them up like a jigsaw puzzle. And it turns out that, once you take the pressure off, pieces of “happy” are much easier to come by. I find mine in good people, in creative outlets, and in indulging my various geeky proclivities. 

So here's what I must remember: write more (writing brings me pieces of happy), bake more (baking brings me pieces of happy), spend more time with family and friends (my loved ones bring me pieces of happy), embrace that new person who makes me smile (he brings me pieces of happy). When I let these things slide, my pieces of happy diminish, and everything else starts to get on top of me. But when that happens, I am letting myself be defeated. I know how to make things better, and I can make things better: I don't need to be rescued, as I can bloody well do it myself. I am woman, hear me roar...or something along those lines.

So here it is, my advice for anyone struggling with the hunt for the elusive “big H Happy” - don't beat yourself up for not having found it yet. Embrace “small h happy” where you can, and build up those little pieces of happiness until - who knows - maybe we’ll all realise we never needed sodding “big H Happy” anyway.

On generosity

Around Christmas seems a good time to talk a bit about generosity. I like to think that, successfully or not, I am someone who always tries to be generous and patient with others. I am a great bestower of benefit of the doubt. I hand out second and third chances like I have an endless supply. And I will always, without fail, try to understand someone else’s behaviour rather than judge them for it.

In the most basic of ways, I also like to be generous with those I love and care about. Hunting out Christmas and birthday presents, for example, presents a challenge that I relish - trying to come up with gifts that are thoughtful, meaningful, and will make someone smile. Hell, recently I spent way too much time researching how to cobble together a plastic figurine out of disparate parts, just to create a physical embodiment of a really strange in-joke. Almost glued my fingers together in the process of making it, too. It went down well though, so all’s well that ends well.

What I have realised, however, is that whilst I’m endlessly searching for ways to be generous to others, I don’t really allow myself the same kindness. I am, and have always been, my own harshest critic - my own worst enemy. My curious and emotional brain will forever replay memories or experiences and find ways to fixate on the littlest things that I perceive to have gone “wrong”. It won’t linger with the same loving attention to detail over anything I might have done well.

A couple of recent experiences encapsulated this over the Christmas period. In a silly, superficial way, there was the Christmas dessert fandango. (Yes, I just wanted to use the word “fandango” there). We had an unusual and unconventional Christmas in the Cave household this year - still lovely, still family-filled, but with slight deviations from tradition. One of these deviations included a scrapping of Christmas cake, Christmas pudding, and mince pies from the menu, and a passing of the baton to me to create a fitting end to our unconventional feast. Somewhat naively, I opted to bake a tart I’d never made before (aaah, rookie error…). Whilst my family were unwaveringly kind, complimented the flavour and even - in my Dad’s case - went back for seconds, I couldn’t focus on the positives. All I could see was the slightly under baked pastry…the grainy texture from the almonds…the slightly split filling. And I could not find a way not to beat myself up about it, try as I might. Don’t get me wrong, no tears were shed over the tart - but it niggled away at me in a way it really shouldn’t have.

On a less superficial note, this past month has not been without its emotional ups and downs for me either. It finally became apparent that, after a 2 year long relationship filled with “will we, won’t we” off again-on again tension with my significant person, he will never actually love me the way I love him (I am aware that this makes me sound like a sad sack, and I’ve dealt with that already, don’t worry). On coming to terms with this, I tortured myself with the question “why aren’t I good enough?” I honestly couldn’t stop thinking it - even though it's a question that has no good or satisfactory answer. It didn’t even occur to me that my default position could - and probably should - have been “Well I am good enough. If he can’t see that, I should stop worrying about why and just move on”. My go-to stance is never generosity towards myself.

I’m sure I’m not unusual here. I don’t know why it’s easier to offer flexibility and kindness to others than it is to yourself. Perhaps it’s an ego thing - we feel we ought to hold ourselves to a higher standard. Or perhaps it’s the complete opposite - patting ourselves on the back, or pointing out our strengths, makes us feel uncomfortable.

There isn’t an easy solution to this. I sincerely doubt anyone can just flip a switch and start bestowing generosity upon themselves. But maybe, when I’m thinking about changes I want to make in the new year, I’ll pause for a minute and remember to add this to the list. Over time, and with a bit of practice, maybe I’ll learn to forgive myself for the things I had no control over, to ease up on myself for the mistakes I’ve made, and to take stock of the good things I’ve managed to achieve. Maybe we could all do with a little bit more of that in our lives.

On building walls

It is a very human thing, I think, to build walls. And it is a very difficult thing to acknowledge that we are building them, and make a decision to bring them down.

For many years now, I have walled up my creativity. It sounds odd, I know - but nevertheless I have come to realise that it's the truth. It's why I stopped writing this bloody thing. It's why my laptop is full of beginnings, middles, and ends of stories - but nothing complete, nothing whole. It's why I've picked up and put down art and illustration throughout my life, never quite making a go of it.

Why have I done this? It seems counter-intuitive to deny myself something that does, on balance, make me happy. Something that I think - with enough practice and flexing of the right muscles - I could be good at. It's not like I don't have ideas, either. I am positively brimming with ideas. Seriously, you should see how many beginnings of blog posts I have on here as drafts. How many notebooks filled with doodles, and sketches, and first steps that were never followed by a second. But here's the thing: it's far easier to create a barricade around that part of myself (with excuses like "I don't have time", or "I feel too drained after work", or "I don't have the willpower to keep up with it") than it would be to try, and to fail. God forbid I throw myself into something and not have it work out.

It sounds so self-defeating when I put it into words that I get angry at myself.

I suspect we're all guilty of this in one way or another. Other people build walls to save face, or to seem stronger, or to keep messy emotions inside. I've always been better at letting emotions roam free, but I can understand the impulse. Whether it's because you think people won't understand the more complicated parts of you, or that they'll think you're a bit crazy, or think less of you for showing "weakness"...I understand that fear.

It's hard, I think, to recognise that you are your own worst enemy. That the barrier you're fighting against in order to get where you want to be - to be happy - is a barrier of your own creation. And it would be too simplistic to say that recognising that fact is the answer. That tearing the walls down will bring you happiness, or even that you'll feel strong enough to tear them down in the first place. But it does feel like a first step (for me, at least). It feels like this might be the stick I need to whip myself into shape with. To not be self-defeating. To pour myself into things, even when it would be easier - less messy - to just sit down and watch Netflix instead.

I am making this promise to myself, and I am doing it out loud so that I can't put my head in the sand and pretend that I haven't: I am going to try. If I try and I fail, then so be it. I think I'll be less sad about that than I would about letting that wall get the better of me.

On deserving more

Recently, I’ve been pondering a lot on the notion of anyone “deserving” something from another person. When I was told I “deserved more” by somebody, I rejected the argument out of hand, countering that no-one deserves anything from anyone. However, in musing on this further, I think that was too simplistic a viewpoint.

There are two sides to the coin here. There is an argument about deserving another person to be a certain way for you (“you deserve someone much better…they’re not good enough for you…” etc), and then the argument about deserving another person to act a certain way with you (“you don’t deserve to be treated like that”).

I still maintain that the concept of one person “deserving” certain characteristics in another is narrow-minded and unfair. Whether we’re talking about friends, significant others, or family members – what makes them “them”, and the decision to embrace or to change that, is something that belongs to them alone. Considerations about how those character traits and personality quirks affect the people around them are certainly important when it comes to negotiating how a relationship works, however it is not the responsibility of the person to be a certain way in order to fit in with the lives and expectations of those around them. We should not be outraged if someone doesn’t fit the bill of how we want them to be, and expect them to change because of it. We don’t have the right to ask that. Imagine if I turned to a friend and said “I don’t want to be friends with someone who isn’t confident and outgoing. I deserve better from you. Change.” Seems ridiculous when you put it that way.

However, when it comes to behaviour that is directed towards us – there I think we do deserve certain things from other people. We deserve basic decency. No, I’m not saying we should all tread on eggshells around each other: simply that we should remember that we are not the only person in the world, and not the only person whose life and happiness is impacted by any situation we find ourselves in. We deserve not to be made to feel small or unimportant by those we care about, and who claim to care about us. Once we have created that social contract with someone – where two people have implicitly or explicitly agreed that they care about each other – we deserve to be considerate of that other person, and have them be considerate of us.

All of that being said, there is still a question of responsibility. Just because we deserve a certain amount of human decency from someone else, that doesn’t mean we’ll get it. Sometimes it will be a straightforward and black & white – it will be so obvious that we’re being screwed over that we’ll run screaming in the other direction. Life isn’t generally that easy though. For the most part, we don’t accept that we’re not being treated as we’d like to be treated. Or we’ll look past it, because we’re convinced that things will get better, or that we might be able to influence and change the other person until they treat us more kindly. (Oh, what arrogant and naïve creatures we are).

In the end, you need to take responsibility for your own sanity and happiness. Yes, people who claim to care about you should be treating you with respect and consideration. But when they don’t, you can’t rely on them to make things better or fix the situation. You have to do that. Take a deep breath and realise that - above all else - if you feel like you deserve better, it’s down to you to change things. To borrow a real-life example here: remember to fit your own oxygen mask before you try to sort out anyone else’s.