I adore these...
On her0inchic there is a list of affirmations from which you can pick ones to read to yourself each morning when you get up. For where I am right now, these are the ones I'm carrying with me (metaphorically):
-When I fill my body with good things I need-rest, proper nutrition, satisfying work, loving and caring, my effectiveness grows.
-Today, I will make an effort to take one small step toward reaching one of my goals.
-I can cope with change today without turning to or away from food.
-I look back and see that my failures are showing me the way to success. I will accept the best I am able to do right now as success for today.
-I may not be in a very good mood. I may not make visible progress today. But, at the very least, I can avoid self-destructive behavior around food. I can follow my meal plan for today, whether I feel like it or not.
-May I courageously continue the adventure of self-discovery.
-I can decide to be cheerful and optimistic, just for today.
-I am free to take charge of my life.
-I choose to release anger in harmless ways.
-I recognize my own true worth.
-I am the only person who thinks in my mind. I am the power and authority in my world.
-I am meant to be very different from everyone else. This releases the burden of feeling like I have to be someone other than me.
-I carry within me all the essentials of a happy existence.
-I will live my life in the way I want to be remembered.
-I will never please everyone and that’s okay.
-I am proud of myself for all I have accomplished no matter how small or great.
-One step at a time. That is how I will get where I am going.
-I am free to be all I can be.
-I make the world more special just by being in it.
-Whatever my weight today, I am a worthwhile person with valuable contributions to make to those around me.
-The only limitations I have are the ones I place on myself
There are some others I wanted on the list, but I'm not ready to admit to the half dozen people who may read this, and some I'm not ready to admit to myself just yet. Some of those I have on here were really hard to put on it, but I needed to push myself, and it was a step in the right direction for me.
I'm Coming Out, I Want The World To Know
I was watching 90210 (don't judge me!) earlier, and it was the episode where Teddy gets forced into coming out to his friends. A few weeks ago my manager suggested having a session at the LGBT group I run about coming out stories. Only it's not a one time thing - it's an every time you meet a new person thing, an every time you go to the doctors thing, an every time someone asks if you've got a boyfriend or girlfriend thing. You are constantly assessing and coming out for the whole of your life, and trust me, it gets tiring.
I've written before about being bisexual, and all the preconceptions that I come up against each time I make the decision to come out, so won't be repeating myself. Instead, this blog is about a couple of my coming out stories.
The first person I came out to was a lad who I had a complex and beautifully horrid relationship with. He was lovely. Well, actually, he was typically 18 and asked if he could get involved in a bit of girl on girl action (he's not been the last to ask that either... one track mind men...). But he was accepting and happy to just know me more. Cushioned by this reaction, I decided to tell a friend with whom I had an intense and safe friendship - we'd been pretty inseparable prior to me moving to Cardiff. Unfortunately his response was less than accepting, and definitely less of a response worthy of the pedestal I'd put him on. It was along the lines of "I can accept it, but I will never be able to forgive you for it". 'Ouch' doesn't really cut it.
I don't really remember specifically telling my best friend - she can correct me if I'm wrong on this one. I do imagine that she probably knew before I did though! I got a lot of my friends together from home and told them in a grand announcement - they seemed particularly underwhelmed. Not in an uninterested kind of way, but in a 'that makes completely no difference to who you are and how we care' kind of a way. After the response on the phone with my other friend, I couldn't have asked for a better reaction really.
The one thing I feel ashamed about is that I've never come out to my parents. To start with I used to say it was because I figured there was no point in telling them unless I got into a relationship with a girl. And to an extent I still think that. But increasingly, I feel like I should tell them because I'm hiding part of myself from them. It's turned around over the years to be about a need for me rather than an information sharing exercise for them. Which I guess is indicative of the fact that my head is in a different space to a few years ago.
I've written before about being bisexual, and all the preconceptions that I come up against each time I make the decision to come out, so won't be repeating myself. Instead, this blog is about a couple of my coming out stories.
The first person I came out to was a lad who I had a complex and beautifully horrid relationship with. He was lovely. Well, actually, he was typically 18 and asked if he could get involved in a bit of girl on girl action (he's not been the last to ask that either... one track mind men...). But he was accepting and happy to just know me more. Cushioned by this reaction, I decided to tell a friend with whom I had an intense and safe friendship - we'd been pretty inseparable prior to me moving to Cardiff. Unfortunately his response was less than accepting, and definitely less of a response worthy of the pedestal I'd put him on. It was along the lines of "I can accept it, but I will never be able to forgive you for it". 'Ouch' doesn't really cut it.
I don't really remember specifically telling my best friend - she can correct me if I'm wrong on this one. I do imagine that she probably knew before I did though! I got a lot of my friends together from home and told them in a grand announcement - they seemed particularly underwhelmed. Not in an uninterested kind of way, but in a 'that makes completely no difference to who you are and how we care' kind of a way. After the response on the phone with my other friend, I couldn't have asked for a better reaction really.
The one thing I feel ashamed about is that I've never come out to my parents. To start with I used to say it was because I figured there was no point in telling them unless I got into a relationship with a girl. And to an extent I still think that. But increasingly, I feel like I should tell them because I'm hiding part of myself from them. It's turned around over the years to be about a need for me rather than an information sharing exercise for them. Which I guess is indicative of the fact that my head is in a different space to a few years ago.
Gwlad, Gwlad, Pleidiol Wyf I'm Gwlad
In just twenty short days, the tournament of the year is about to begin. Yes people, I am referring to the holiest of events: the rugby world cup! The last three weekends have been a rare summertime treat, as there has been a Wales match every Saturday as part of the world cup warm up weeks. And what's more, they even won two of the three matches. It's not all good news though, as Morgan Stoddart has suffered a serious break to his leg, and Gavin Henson has broken his arm. Matthew Rees is out because he needs neck surgery, and to add to that injuries causing worrying doubts over Gethin Jenkins and Steven Jones.
This year's world cup is a bit bittersweet for me because of what's going on with the sale of my Gran's bungalow at the moment, and dealing with no longer having concrete ties to Wales. But enough of that.
I love everything that comes with the world cup - several matches in a day and figuring out who to support in order to give your team the best chances of getting through as possible. I love having an outlet for my love of Wales: the way the opening bars of the national anthem make my heart swell and my eyes sting with tears, and holding my breath like my life depends on it when they are camped on the defence try line for minutes at a time. In 2007, my heart soared as high winning against Canada and Japan as it plummeted losing to Australia and Fiji - exhilarating and despairing in equal quantities.
This year looks set to be tough, Wales face Fiji, Namibia, Samoa and South Africa in the pools rounds. Jonathan Davies summed it up beautifully on BBC today when ironically stating they had an easy start into the competition with South Africa. Then if any players were left standing they just had Samoa to look forward to - the men mountains from the South Sea Islands! Namibia will offer a much needed bit of respite, followed by Fiji... the team who destroyed their chances four years ago...
So it's watch this space and keep those fingers well and truly crossed. Cymru am byth, pob lwc!
You See Through My Disguise
I read a blog entry the other day where they wrote about their teenage bedroom, and it got me to thinking about mine. The irony is, that as I'm typing this, I'm in bed in that very room - albeit an altered version of it. I've never felt very safe in the house I grew up in; if my parents ever went away then I either filled the house up with friends or I stayed elsewhere because I'd get so freaked out by being in it on my own. But my bedroom was different. I felt safe in my bedroom. Cocooned and supported in a world where I felt anything but. It was the space in which I could let my heart break and the tears fall instead of wearing the face mask of happiness that I presented to the world on a daily basis.
If you ever wanted to know who I was at 16 then all you needed to do was come into my room - it basically bared my soul. I was lucky in that the decor was mine for the picking, so I had pale yellow walls with dark blue radiator and woodwork (anyone who knows me in the non-cyber world will appreciate my love affair with painted radiators). Topped off with dark blue curtains with gold stars and a vaguely matching duvet set.
The walls were completely smothered, mostly in posters from Kerrang! of my most beloved musical heroes - Nirvana, Marilyn Manson, Three Colours Red, Placebo, Feeder, System Of A Down, Coal Chamber, Korn, Defftones, The Offspring, Metallica, Slipknot - you get the picture. A large chunk of one wall was taken up with a 9 foot poster of the front cover of Placebo's 'Without You I'm Nothing' which somehow I acquired from our much loved and much missed independent music shop in Eastleigh: Pinpoint Music. The stories of our trips to that shop can wait for another day... I was fascinated by Brian Molko and his androgyny and bisexuality, little did I know I'd later come out as bi and be specialising in counselling gender variance.
Overlapping the posters were scrawled out copies of poems, both mine and proper authors, which if you'd taken the time to read, would have painted a very sad picture of where my head was at during that time. It would hardly surprise you that right up there was Sylvia Plath, WB Yeats, Emily Dickinson and William Blake (the 'experience' poems, not the 'innocence' ones). Poetry was one of my less destructive releases, and I still use it as a cathartic process today. I found it so hard to tell people how I was feeling, that poetry was my way of painting my picture, and for that I used my words and others. I also found a comfort in having Lorelei next to me as I fell asleep, knowing that I wasn't alone in how screwed up my head was.
Pictures also festooned my walls. I love my friends. I know everyone says it, but I really really do love them so much, and they've been an amazing support to me throughout my life. So rather than shut all my photo's away, they were covering my walls with their patchwork print of smiles and laughter and happy memories.
Mementos were there in force also - gig tickets, a Ford badge nicked from a car from the first time I went to Reading Festival, a 'Time Team' Membership car sticker stuck backwards on the wall, a Welsh love-spoon my Grandad gave me which now hangs in my kitchen, a smashed CD (which, if memory serves, was a Spice Girls single I got in a lucky dip at Pinpoint Music).
Then we get to the ceiling... obviously there was a light. There was also stereo speakers, a string of fabric chickens, CD's on string, several loops of cow bells, a Barbie on a rope, a Christmas decoration I made in infants school and refused to take down, a giant pencil (!), a dream catcher, and a fabric The Offspring flag that looped from my ceiling to door frame. Perhaps that's why I felt safe there... anyone in my room would have been garroted long before they could do any harm or steel anything!
Remnants of my childhood remained too... some animal posters, a shelf of nicknack's from holidays and gifts from grandparents, cuddly toys that I wasn't ready to say goodbye to, all my 100 odd Sweet Valley High books, which were counter balanced by the Marilyn Manson autobiography and the Communist Manifesto. It's that unique snapshot in time of childhood, adolescence and adulthood all blurring in together and a mixed up soul trying to make sense of it all.
*picture to follow
If you ever wanted to know who I was at 16 then all you needed to do was come into my room - it basically bared my soul. I was lucky in that the decor was mine for the picking, so I had pale yellow walls with dark blue radiator and woodwork (anyone who knows me in the non-cyber world will appreciate my love affair with painted radiators). Topped off with dark blue curtains with gold stars and a vaguely matching duvet set.
The walls were completely smothered, mostly in posters from Kerrang! of my most beloved musical heroes - Nirvana, Marilyn Manson, Three Colours Red, Placebo, Feeder, System Of A Down, Coal Chamber, Korn, Defftones, The Offspring, Metallica, Slipknot - you get the picture. A large chunk of one wall was taken up with a 9 foot poster of the front cover of Placebo's 'Without You I'm Nothing' which somehow I acquired from our much loved and much missed independent music shop in Eastleigh: Pinpoint Music. The stories of our trips to that shop can wait for another day... I was fascinated by Brian Molko and his androgyny and bisexuality, little did I know I'd later come out as bi and be specialising in counselling gender variance.
Overlapping the posters were scrawled out copies of poems, both mine and proper authors, which if you'd taken the time to read, would have painted a very sad picture of where my head was at during that time. It would hardly surprise you that right up there was Sylvia Plath, WB Yeats, Emily Dickinson and William Blake (the 'experience' poems, not the 'innocence' ones). Poetry was one of my less destructive releases, and I still use it as a cathartic process today. I found it so hard to tell people how I was feeling, that poetry was my way of painting my picture, and for that I used my words and others. I also found a comfort in having Lorelei next to me as I fell asleep, knowing that I wasn't alone in how screwed up my head was.
Pictures also festooned my walls. I love my friends. I know everyone says it, but I really really do love them so much, and they've been an amazing support to me throughout my life. So rather than shut all my photo's away, they were covering my walls with their patchwork print of smiles and laughter and happy memories.
Mementos were there in force also - gig tickets, a Ford badge nicked from a car from the first time I went to Reading Festival, a 'Time Team' Membership car sticker stuck backwards on the wall, a Welsh love-spoon my Grandad gave me which now hangs in my kitchen, a smashed CD (which, if memory serves, was a Spice Girls single I got in a lucky dip at Pinpoint Music).
Then we get to the ceiling... obviously there was a light. There was also stereo speakers, a string of fabric chickens, CD's on string, several loops of cow bells, a Barbie on a rope, a Christmas decoration I made in infants school and refused to take down, a giant pencil (!), a dream catcher, and a fabric The Offspring flag that looped from my ceiling to door frame. Perhaps that's why I felt safe there... anyone in my room would have been garroted long before they could do any harm or steel anything!
Remnants of my childhood remained too... some animal posters, a shelf of nicknack's from holidays and gifts from grandparents, cuddly toys that I wasn't ready to say goodbye to, all my 100 odd Sweet Valley High books, which were counter balanced by the Marilyn Manson autobiography and the Communist Manifesto. It's that unique snapshot in time of childhood, adolescence and adulthood all blurring in together and a mixed up soul trying to make sense of it all.
*picture to follow
Do you ever get those days when you feel all topsy-turvy? That's probably the best way to describe how I feel at the moment in that I feel quite contradictory and I'm not sure why. I'm not depressed, but I'm not happy either. I'm on holiday from work this week which isn't helping really - I don't feel like I'm making the most of it because I'm not happy. And then I'm putting pressure on myself which makes it all worse really. But then I allow myself to relax and go with how I'm feel and then I automatically feel less morose. Hence the topsy-turvy thing.
I'm also topsy-turvy about my Mum selling my Grans bungalow. The man at the bottom of the chain has, to be blunt, been a complete cunt and fucked things up royally after having dragged it out for ages. I'm not going into details, because it's all pretty dull. Long story short, Mum is now considering buying the flat at the bottom of the chain in order for all the sales to go through and get rid of Grans bungalow. And I have no idea how I feel about it. I know I don't like her or Dad talking to me about it - I want to shut it out as much possible. But then, I've wanted to shut the whole process out. I like even less the idea of having a property that I have completely no feeling for in Pontnewydd than I do having Grans without her or Grandad.
I also keep dreaming about old friends which is just a bit bittersweet really. It's nice in that they're people I felt incredibly comfortable with, and it's always nice to be reminded of that. But at the same time, it's just a bit sad to have to wonder how their lives are rather than to know the answer.
I think it doesn't help much that things with my sister aren't that fantastic again. We've not fallen out (for a change), it's more that she's doing her not bothering with me thing again, which sucks really.
On the topsy side of topsy turvy, I've started guitar lessons, am seeing much more of my friends, am back on line with slimming world and exercise, and have got a new counselling job starting in September.
I'm also topsy-turvy about my Mum selling my Grans bungalow. The man at the bottom of the chain has, to be blunt, been a complete cunt and fucked things up royally after having dragged it out for ages. I'm not going into details, because it's all pretty dull. Long story short, Mum is now considering buying the flat at the bottom of the chain in order for all the sales to go through and get rid of Grans bungalow. And I have no idea how I feel about it. I know I don't like her or Dad talking to me about it - I want to shut it out as much possible. But then, I've wanted to shut the whole process out. I like even less the idea of having a property that I have completely no feeling for in Pontnewydd than I do having Grans without her or Grandad.
I also keep dreaming about old friends which is just a bit bittersweet really. It's nice in that they're people I felt incredibly comfortable with, and it's always nice to be reminded of that. But at the same time, it's just a bit sad to have to wonder how their lives are rather than to know the answer.
I think it doesn't help much that things with my sister aren't that fantastic again. We've not fallen out (for a change), it's more that she's doing her not bothering with me thing again, which sucks really.
On the topsy side of topsy turvy, I've started guitar lessons, am seeing much more of my friends, am back on line with slimming world and exercise, and have got a new counselling job starting in September.
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