New Year, New… Not a lot

The concept of the ‘new year’ is a strange one. It’s entirely man-made, and feels fairly arbitrary, particularly when you remember that the Chinese celebrate New Year at a different time to the rest of the world. Until the intrusion of the west, many countries in East Asia measured time by a solar calendar instead of a lunar one. Japan started using the Gregorian calendar in 1873, after a modernisation push begun in 1868. I remember learning that at university and thinking how odd it is that something we rule our lives by so strictly isn’t exactly real – it’s something we invented to make it easier to organise things and keep track of how long people worked for.

I’m thinking about time more and more these days, and 2018 is an interesting year for me as I turn 30 in May. This is neither a big deal nor not a big deal to me; it just is, and in the same way as we evaluate things differently when we arrive in a “new year”, so turning 30 can make you consider things in a different light.

This can be dangerous if it means you suddenly start beating yourself up for not being where you thought you’d be by a certain age. For better or worse, I’ve never been one for life plans or had specific ambitions, so I’m not overwhelmed by negative thoughts about hitting a fourth decade. But I am aware of the expectations that come with putting labels on the passage of time. I think many of us are tricked into thinking everything will be different in the new year; it’s a blank slate and the irritations of the past year will be have faded away, or at least be easier to manage. Certainly we are helped in this assumption by endless marketing campaigns shouting NEW YEAR, NEW YOU! I filed away a lot of odds and ends at work and at home before Christmas and really thought that the time off would make a meaningful difference of some kind, so this week has been a bump back to earth and a struggle, as I’ve found that things are in exactly the same mess as they were beforehand. Our expectations create an artificial high which is never going to be met, because nothing has changed except the date in the corner of the computer screen.

Of course, if we look at time the right way, we can help ourselves to create something out of nothing, and try to build new habits or kick old ones into touch with the help of a new diary and calendar. I’m doing Dry January this year, not because I drink an enormous amount, but because I’d like to see how it affects my mood, sleeping patterns, and general wellbeing to be sober. (If you’d like to sponsor me/donate some money to Crisis, my page is here Other people start new classes, or try new diets (Veganuary seems to be all over the place this year) and it can be a really helpful time to make a new beginning – as long as you realise that you are the same person you were on the 31st of December, and won’t automatically have a brand new Willpower Pack and Courage Belt to help you.

While turning 30 doesn’t make me think ‘Oh Christ! Why don’t I have a husband/children/a house/a proper career plan’, it does make me think of myself in a slightly different light. I’ll think about doing something I’m afraid of, and think, ‘well I’m nearly 30 – I should be able to do that’. The way you see yourself can be extremely powerful, and I’m quite enjoying the sense of grown-up-ness which is coming with my impending birthday. (An example of a less useful self-image is when I was diagnosed with depression some years ago, I kept thinking ‘I’d better be careful – after all, I am depressed’ which was a rather self-limiting way of looking at things.)

I’m glad to have this internal feeling of security and strength, as this week has been a tough one for me, not just because I was disappointed that my work to-do list was still as long, but also thanks to the news. For whatever reason I’ve seen more headlines than I normally do, and they haven’t filled me with joy: my annual rail pass has gone up by £248 to a staggering £7,188, the average deposit in London is now £80,000 (up £30k in a decade) and our NHS is being held together with string and the sheer determination of the people still working inside it. I look around and think, what is my future? It takes people ten years to save for a house deposit, and that’s presumably not if they’re spending their savings each year on the train that gets them to work. Thanks to low salaries, an MA degree, rail passes, a waster ex-boyfriend, and car expenses, my savings have been massively depleted in the last ten years. Every piece of news I see about the UK makes me wonder how the country is going to stay on its feet. My partner is all for moving back to his home country of Canada, provided we can find jobs, and I’m open to the idea but terrified absolutely stupid at the same time. I’m not wondering why I haven’t got to a certain place in life before 30, but I am wondering what seismic changes there will need to be politically or personally for me to get to that place at all.

All this has led to a week of stress, anxiety, and lying awake at 4am – before being awoken at 6am for my commute, and wanting to cry. I haven’t found it difficult not to drink, but I have realised it’s my default position to have a drink when I’m stressed or anxious. I’m having to find replacements now and it isn’t easy. Nothing is as fast or as simple as having a glass of wine! I might get the same results from a bath or an hour reading or half an hour of yoga, but they all require more effort and none of them are anywhere near as sociable.

One plus point is that the feelings stay in my head for longer, so I’m more inclined to write them down and do more of these blogs (hopefully you think of that as a good thing too, dear reader!). I don’t have any magic answers today, only lots of little things I can do to make me feel like I’m moving forward and moving in the right direction. And continuing to write and straighten my head out is one of those things, as even if it doesn’t get me a house or a cheaper commute, it gets me a better night’s sleep – and maybe that’s the best thing I could get anyway.


Highlights of 2017

I’ve done this for the last couple of years – it’s a great way of looking back over the year and picking out the best bits, not just for now, but for when I look back in future years.

Swing Train

This is an exercise class based half on swing dancing, and half on cardiovascular exercise. The music is enormous fun and the moves range from Charleston kicks to squats and even, in one of my least favourite tracks, press-ups. I’m lucky enough to have a class only a few minutes’ walk away with a wonderful teacher, who is enthusiastic without being irritatingly peppy, and extremely good at judging the energy levels in the room and how to push us just enough, but not too much. Highly recommended.

New chair

Recently we bought a new Ikea armchair and footstool, which sits in the corner of our living room with bookcases on either side. It’s deliciously comfortable and my favourite place to sit and properly unwind.

Overcoming fear – twice

This time last year I’d just driven my little Renault Clio home to my parents’ house for Christmas, the first drive on motorways I’d done for years. That drive improved my driving anxiety enormously, and I kept doing more driving and feeling more and more comfortable doing so – until July, when I crashed the car on the M40. After that, I had to go back to the start. I had to deal with all the admin of the insurance for the old car, and of buying a new one; and then I had to learn to feel confident at driving again. With most things I get anxious about, there’s no real danger, but driving was always different. And once you know what it feels like to lose control on a motorway and smash into something at 70mph (like a high-powered game of dodgems) it’s very difficult to tell yourself your anxiety is unwarranted. With patience, practise, the help of Winnie the Pooh audio tapes, and some driving lessons, I am now feeling much more confident in my driving. It’s still difficult, and tiring, but I know what I need to do to feel safe now and that makes a big difference.

My birthday

It’s a cliché to say that you birthday should be one of the best days of the year, but for me, in 2017, it was. The day before I drove my partner and me down to Tarr Steps, a beautiful spot in Somerset where I’d spent many birthdays as a child. It was the longest drive I’d ever done, and when we got there the weather was hot and still and perfect. I had a cold shower to get rid of the sweat of six hours in a car with no air conditioning, on a very hot day, and then got drunk ludicrously easily on white wine sitting outside. The next day, my birthday morning, I woke up very early. When I was small my brothers and I used to get up super early, sneak out of the hotel, and walk along the river to a meadow and back before breakfast. I decided to relive the tradition. When I set out, the sun was only halfway down the trees covering the sides of the valley either side of the river, and the river itself still had patches of mist. By the time I got back to the hotel, the sun was fully up and everything was hushed and quiet but bathed in warm golden light. It was a perfect start to the morning.

Gratitude jar

Every weekend, or sometimes more often, I wrote on little pieces of paper things that had happened that had made me happy or that I was grateful for, and I kept them in a glass jar. It’s been a great way of remembering the good bits, and emptying out the jar to relive the good times on the 1st of January was hilarious and heartwarming. Many of them seemed to involve weekend trips to the pub for a drink and a heart-to-heart with my partner, although there were also many to do with books I’d read, or relief at various drives being over without any incident.


I went to several excellent concerts (gigs? I don’t know what to call these anymore) this year, most of them with one of my brothers. We saw Radiohead in Manchester, which was phenomenal, and the band James twice (some of you may remember James from the 1990’s hits Sit Down and Laid). We saw them at Newmarket racecourse, which was a brilliant and hilarious afternoon and evening. I got quietly drunk on Pimm’s, we watched some races and then the band came on around dusk. One of my happiest and brightest memories of the year.


Last year my employers encouraged me to get some more training in bookkeeping, as much of my job involves bookkeeping tasks. I am now the proud holder of a Foundation Certificate in Bookkeeping, and I’m planning the next course to embark on now. Studying alongside work is far from easy, especially when you have a long commute, but it’s great to feel like I’m still learning something.

The laziest evening ever

I am someone who often has issues relaxing, as I always make to do lists so long that nobody could ever achieve all the stupid things I put on them. So the odd evening when I really chill out is precious. One evening in 2017, my partner was out at a conference, so I knew the evening’s choice of food and television viewing was just down to me. I got off the train, bought a bottle of wine, then went to the local chippie and bought battered sausage and chips. Battered sausage, wine, and a few episodes of Sex and the City: it was a truly glorious evening.


I hope you all had many wonderful memories in 2017, and here’s to making many more in 2018!

Working Out the Gym

Over the last few months, I’ve taken up going to the gym. I can hear the eyes roll and the bored sighs from here. People hate people going to the gym – until recently I was one of those people, and honestly I would also sigh and roll my eyes at a blog post about going to the gym. Stick with it, my friends. Hopefully it will be faintly informative, or at least faintly funny.

I started going because I have an ongoing issue with the nerve in my right elbow, due to the amount of time I spend sitting at a computer. Three physiotherapists have asked me if there’s anything I can do at my job that doesn’t involve a computer – the answer is no. Perhaps I need to retrain as a shepherd or a taxi driver to avoid the problem. But in the meantime, my solution is to go to the gym to try and release the tension that runs from neck to shoulder to wrist and back again.

The gym is a fascinating place to observe human behaviour. It is at the same time an intensely private and completely public place to be. People are frequently half-dressed, or in clothes so tight-fitting they may as well be half-dressed. Men with shoulders the size of their heads stride around calling to each other, obviously at home and at ease. Women run on the treadmills with their headphones in, making no eye contact. I am one of these – I avoid looking any other people in the eye, mainly for fear of judgement. I am blessed with a slight physique, so don’t have to worry about people thinking I’m too heavy to be in a gym (which is, by the way, a completely bizarre piece of logic) but I worry anyway about being judged on my appearance or abilities – and on being compared to other women.

There is one woman who goes to my local gym who is pretty, petite and blonde. She wears a crop top and leggings, showing off a lovely figure. She does do some exercise in the gym but she also spends a lot of time chatting to the guys with shoulders the size of their heads. It’s a proper flirt party in the middle of a gym. Once, she was doing some kind of squats while kneeling on the floor – fair enough – but was pausing for minutes at a time in between sets to chat to the guys while rocking back and forth on all fours. For heaven’s sake – just grab your favourite and take him home for a romp in the sack.

I feel bad for judging her. I shouldn’t really, and honestly she only really annoys me when she’s hogging some equipment I want while doing her flirting workout. Obviously, the main reason she makes me feel bad is because she makes me feel unattractive, with my unwashed hair (I’ll never understand people who shower BEFORE going to the gym) and my already modest chest squashed a little flatter thanks to sports crop tops. I act aloof among the men at the gym, rejecting them before they can reject me. I’m quite sure they don’t notice and don’t care even if they do notice, however. While I’m feeling insecure and worrying about people watching me, most of the people at the gym are entirely focussed on themselves.

I mostly do weights stuff at the gym, trying to strengthen my arms and back to take the pressure off my arm. The weights area is lined with mirrors, which are sometimes useful to make sure you’re straight and centred, but which personally I hate because it brings my attention back to my appearance instead of my performance. If I’m not in front of a mirror, I’m in front of screens playing music videos (without the sound, the music is something else) which infuriate and depress me in equal measure as the women bounce around and stretch and make sexy faces at the camera. Why on earth would anybody find me attractive, I think, after staring at them for five minutes, getting up to do something else, and trying to surreptitiously wipe sweat marks from my hands or back or arse off the equipment.

I’m really selling it, aren’t I. Of course the point of going to the gym isn’t to judge yourself and come out feeling like a bag of manure. It’s to take control of your body and push yourself and feel the difference, in fitness or strength. In the media, for women it’s always about losing weight or getting toned, which I hope is slowly beginning to change as the world and her mother push the benefits of exercise, quite apart from any weight loss. Even though I’m not really going to the gym to lose weight, I am still (clearly) thinking too much about how I look while I’m there. I read this article this week about taking exercise in a body positive way, which has some great tips. I went to the gym after reading it but tried to ignore everyone else, view myself with detachment instead of negativity, and focus on how my body felt and on whether I could push myself to do a little more. It worked, and I set some new personal bests.

For my partner, going to the gym is very useful for his mental health. It’s a pure, uncomplicated feeling for him. He enjoys going through motions, going through routines, and appreciating the complexity of simple exercises. Doing things properly requires focus, and practise. He says although our stereotypes are of meatheads in the gym, they are good at what they do and often I see them helping each other with exercises, making me think they are just nice normal guys even if seeing them in the gym I’m tempted to stereotype them as dull and narcissistic. In a way, the gym is an entirely judgement free zone, because whatever anyone thinks of you you’re unlikely ever to hear about it. You are all strangers. I see the same people, I’m sure, but I’ve realised how little attention I pay to them, because I can never remember whether I’ve seen them before or not. As much as you may think people are watching you and laughing behind their hands, it’s in your head. It’s a natural thing to think, because that’s how we’re wired – to think people are hyperaware of our mistakes and completely oblivious to our successes. For me, that’s how I think of myself, not how other people think of me, and I need to get out of the habit of projecting those negative thoughts into other people’s minds.

So gyms may be a bit strange and a bit intimidating and some might say a little dull, but they are also fascinating and interesting and fun places to find out what your body can do. There are people doing every type of workout, and it’s entirely up to you what you work on and why. I like that freedom, and at its best it feels like you’re a child again at one of those play centres – although without the ball pit, thank goodness, because as an adult they’re impossible to get out of. People might go there for different reasons, but remember that you don’t actually have to give any of them a moment’s thought. They are all there for themselves, and you’re there for yourself too.


Do you have a plan?

“Phoebe, do you have a plan?”

“I don’t even have a pl-.”

The above is a quote from one of those Friends episodes that absolutely nails being a mid-twenty-something with no bloody idea what you’re doing. We all assume when we’re growing up that you reach a certain age when everything will work itself out: you’ll marry your partner and buy a house and start having a family, all while holding down that great job you fell into after university. I used to watch this episode of Friends without really getting it – of course people worked out what was going on in life! I wouldn’t still be floundering in my mid-twenties!

Well here I am in my late twenties and the shit is in many ways not coming together into a perfect sphere like it was supposed to. I graduated into the second year of a global recession and suddenly realised I should have spent the last three years getting masses of work experience as well as a First Class degree. This is thanks to what I see as the ultimate Catch 22: you can’t get a job without experience, but you can’t get experience without a job. One mildly embellished CV later I got a job on the minimum wage working for a man who shouted himself puce in the face whenever he thought I’d made a mistake. A few years later, the relationship I’d started at university which I assumed would end in marriage – because that’s what happened with the relationship you started at university, according to my parents and most of my friends – finally kicked the bucket, and I went back to university to restart my career and, suddenly, restart my love life too.

Fast forward a few more years and I’m in a happy relationship, but about as close to acquiring property or a dog as I am to writing a bestselling book – i.e., some light years away. I have a job I enjoy with people I like very much, but the boundaries of it are constantly shifting and I am frequently plagued by worry that the problem with creating a job from no job title, is that the job title can disappear and the job can go with it. Throughout it all I wonder if my problem is the same as that of Monica and Phoebe: I don’t have a plan.

When I was at university a friend told me the plan she’d made for the rest of her life. She knew what kind of man she wanted to marry, how many children she wanted to have, where they would live, and what job she would do, right down to the events she’d host for local disadvantaged children when she was retired. She asked me what my plan was. I said: ‘Well, I thought I’d finish this degree, and then… see what happens.’ She was as astonished and terrified by my lack of a plan as I was by her planning down to the nth degree.

I don’t do well with long-term plans because I’ve always found the ground shifts too much underneath me for any plans to be of any use. This shifting ground can be good or can be bad. Sometimes opportunities pop up unexpectedly and I like not having a plan to change – I don’t like changing plans if I do make them, in terms of the day-to-day and longer term. Other times, people disappoint you, and I feel it’s slightly less painful if you haven’t pinned too much on them to begin with, so I try not to. Most of the time any plans I put in my diary or on my calendar have a question mark after them, because then it hurts a little less if it turns out people have forgotten, or they cancel at the last moment.

But not having a plan can also be very unhelpful. There can be things you want to achieve but if you don’t set down the end destination it’s difficult to plan the route to it. I shy away from deciding, even in my own head, what I want the destination to be because I don’t want to be disappointed when it vanishes into the mist. Or because I fear that I won’t be strong enough to get there, and it will be twice as embarrassing when I collapse in a heap and have to be carried home. This is going against every motivational quote and women’s magazine ever written, not to mention all self-help books, but to be honest they always speak in such vague language that I’ve never really known what they meant. ‘Don’t limit your challenges, challenge your limits!’ What does that mean, in concrete terms? Show your working! Give me diagrams! It’s only now, when a potential goal of mine has been moved further away, possibly due to my own lack of certainty, I can see that I do need to set down that destination – even if I’m not 100% sure about it. Sometimes it’s impossible to be 100% sure, especially when it involves other people being on board too. But your determination might be a guiding light for them.

One of my science teachers in high school praised me for saying that I thought X was the ‘probable’ outcome for the end of an experiment. In science, this lack of ego is good because it’s often difficult to be certain. But in life, going around saying ‘maybe’ and ‘I might but I’m not sure’ could just end up with me not quite going anywhere. And that would not be a good plan.


Highlights of 2016

THERE WERE NONE, I hear you cry. Well, the other day I found a piece I wrote this time last year on highlights of 2015. Apparently I thought 2015 pretty much sucked in terms of news items as well, although I don’t remember it being particularly bad – apart from the Conservatives winning the UK election. Reading back through the post I remembered lots of little things I enjoyed about that year, and although 2016 was rubbish in terms of democratic votes, gun shootings, and celebrity deaths, it’s important to also think about the good things. This isn’t going to be one of those list of good news for the environment etc which have been doing the rounds lately, but rather a list of my own personal highlights. Some are tiny, and some are life-changing. What were your highlights of 2016?

The Guilty Feminist Podcast

This year I finally started listening to podcasts, and this was the first one I tuned in to after it was recommended by a friend (thank you Gillian!). Female comedians discuss a range of topics, from shoes to periods to nudity, and examine their complicated and at times contradictory relationships with femininity, feminism, their own bodies, and the people around them. It is hilarious and thought-provoking, wonderfully forgiving and a real tonic if you think feminists are shouty and irritating. Some are like that, but some of us don’t have a clue! The show starts with a list of brilliant ‘I am a feminist but…’ quotes, such as: ‘I am a feminist… but I often find myself promoting this podcast by saying, it’s about feminism, but don’t worry, it’s funny.’

Dancing at weddings

I’ve been to a few weddings this year with my partner. I struggle with weddings. I find the logistics of getting there, finding somewhere to stay, talking to people you don’t know, and figuring out when it’s okay to leave very stressful. But I’ve discovered that dancing at weddings with my partner is the best. This summer we went to a stunning wedding of a friend of mine (the same Gillian who recommended the Guilty Feminist podcast – congrats on the awesome wedding too!) in rural Kent, in a big marquee and the groom’s family’s back garden. I was panicking about what to wear up until the last minute, and got changed 30 seconds before we had to leave into navy trousers and blazer and a red shirt (then got self-conscious when my partner said we looked like we were heading to a business meeting). Anxiety + free champagne meant we were both wonderfully silly by the time we sat down to eat, and still pretty tipsy when the music started. We both love dancing and we barely stopped for the next couple of hours. Several people complimented us on our dancing, which felt wonderful and all in all it was a fabulous evening. I like weddings now.

Lazy corgi fight video

I love the beginning of this video, with a corgi lying on its back with its feet in the air. What is it doing?! And then the “fight” – I’m going to snap at you… and then just go and lie over here… and bark at…nothing… These dogs are just ridiculous. Corgis themselves make no sense. How are their legs so short?! So comical.

14th May, Canterbury

I moved to Canterbury this year after ten years of living in London. This was one of the life-changing highlights to the year: I moved in with my partner and started a much longer commute to work. For the most part living together has been lovely, and although the commute isn’t my favourite thing in the world, I love living in Canterbury. When I got back after Christmas it felt like home. And although there are pros and cons to being out of London, I certainly don’t miss the tube or the weekend crowds. Or the exorbitant rent. Although the rail pass does its best to make up for that!

Started anti-anxiety medication

This might be a strange thing to put as a highlight of the year. Having to take medication is bad, right? I certainly thought so for a long time. Even though I’ve been blogging about mental health for a while now and I am very supportive of friends who are on medication, I really fought going on anxiety medication myself. I realised that I still saw it as a sign of weakness. I thought I should be able to get past it on my own. And I put a lot of work into that and when I was feeling generally okay, the self-care worked. But when you’re tired or something knocks you so you take that lift back down to the beginning again, sometimes it’s too tough to haul yourself back up all the stairs on your own. I’ve been on anti-anxiety medication for six weeks. I’m on a very low dosage and it still sometimes gives me nausea, but I also have some more space in my head to combat anxious thoughts. I’ve achieved things that I’m not sure I could have done if I hadn’t been on medication. I don’t know what will happen, whether they’ll keep working, whether I’ll need to switch, or whether I’ll need to up the dosage, but right now I think they’re working. It’s easier for me to take a step back from anxious thoughts. There’s no point saying to myself “you don’t need to worry about this” because that doesn’t work. But I am finding some relief from going a step further and thinking “you don’t need to think about this. There is nothing saying you need to spend time and energy going over this. Let it go.” Just gaining that step and finding a bit more stability is feeling great. Keep your fingers crossed for me that it stays good.

Dyeing my hair

While in most areas of life I’m quite frightened of change, as we all are (I heard someone on the radio recently say everybody is scared of change, and if someone says they’re not, they’re lying) when it comes to going to the hairdressers I LOVE change. The bigger the change, the better. If I have a haircut and come out looking more or less the same, I’m a bit disappointed and have generally forgotten I had the haircut by the time I get home, so someone saying they like it confuses me. You like what? It’s the same! This year I dyed my hair red for the first time. I’ve wanted to do it for about a decade so it was pretty exciting for me. It didn’t go quite as bright as I wanted so I’m planning to get it done again soon. I look so quiet and demure that most hairdressers are worried I’m going to get upset, so they tend to – consciously or not – tone down what I ask for. But my current hairdresser in Canterbury seems to trust I want what I say, so I’ll ask him to dye it next. Hopefully it won’t come out some dreadful shade of pink.

Driving home for Christmas

I passed my driving test four years ago, then only drove on the odd weekend at my parents’ house for the next four years. Now I’m living in Canterbury, I have my car with me here. Unfortunately the years off and the fact I was driving somewhere I barely knew meant I started getting extremely anxious about getting in the car. Panic attacks and heated arguments with my partner while driving ensued, and although I kept at it, I was still struggling with nerves. I would be so anxious about driving fifteen minutes to the nearest stables for a riding lesson that I could barely stand due to extreme nausea. Then I started anti-anxiety medication, and although I was still anxious before I left the house, once I was in the car I was fine. So I took a somewhat bold and impulsive decision – I do this sometimes – to drive myself from Canterbury to Suffolk to stay with my parents at Christmas. I hadn’t been on a dual carriageway for four years and had never driven on a motorway. But for some reason I decided that having a parent come down and sit in the car with me, or drive in front of me so I at least knew where I was going, was not as good as going solo with the Google Maps app and ‘winging it’. Well, I was right. I had a couple of fun moments at roundabouts and risked speeding tickets here and there (with added adrenaline rush because when you take my little car over 80 miles per hour, the steering wheel shudders) but the sense of achievement was second to none. Definitely a highlight of the year.

Other people’s achievements

I am very lucky to have an amazing circle of friends, family, and partner. They share in my achievements and my worries as I share in theirs. Although there have been difficulties and sadnesses this year, several of my immediate circle have also had wonderful news that I have loved sharing with them. My best friend is pregnant and expecting her baby very soon. I love that I was one of the first to know about the pregnancy, and I’ve loved keeping up our dinner routine while we can and checking in on how she’s doing. Apparently my general cynical nature has been a great tonic to her when all she wants to do is complain about feeling fat and having rib pain and most of the people around her are saying OMG YOU MUST FEEL SO BLESSED!!! My ‘yeesh, poor you, that sucks’ has been very useful, she says, which I’m very happy (and relieved) about. In other news, my partner had his first academic book published this year. It’s a huge moment and I felt so very proud going to the launch and hearing him talk about it. Getting to read a published book by someone you know and love is really wonderful, and I couldn’t be happier for him.

There are more great moments but I feel like this post is already quite long and gushing. I encourage you all to note down a few things that went well this year, even if it was just a great book you read or a brilliant movie you saw. Looking back on them in the future is really encouraging, and god knows we all need some good things to remember about 2016.


Radical self-care part 2: Not Giving a F**k

Last week I mentioned that as part of my resolution to engage in radical self-care, thereby protecting my own mental health, I was going to read Sarah Knight’s book ‘The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F**k.’ Thanks to the speed of online ordering (not from Amazon, I hasten to add: I refuse to buy books from Amazon now) and the fact I am a very fast reader, I have already finished said book. It’s amazing and I’m going to share its basic concepts with you, as well as a list of some of the things which I, personally, do not give a fuck about.

The basic premise of the book is that you should be spending less time you don’t have, doing things you don’t want to do, with people you don’t like. By deciding what you do and don’t give a fuck about, and compiling a ‘Fuck Budget,’ you can spend less time, energy and money on things that annoy, and use that time, energy and money on things that bring you joy. Knight divides your Fuck Budget into four different areas:

  • Things and concepts
  • Work
  • Strangers, acquaintances and friends
  • Family

For each you make a list of things to do with that topic that you just don’t give a fuck about, and then later work out whether you can not give a fuck about those things without hurting people’s feelings. Of course, some things are much easier to not care about than others, and you have to be careful at all times to be polite and honest without going over the line into the ‘Asshole Quadrant.’

I don’t want to deprive her of book sales by going into the details of how you achieve not giving a fuck about all these things, and as I only finished reading it a couple of hours ago I can’t tell you yet how well it works in practice. However, I have already mentally discarded several things or events that do not fit into my Fuck Budget, and just deciding to let go and not care about whole lists of things is fun and invigorating. By carrying out Knight’s NotSorry Method, I’m feeling stronger and like I’ll have more time and energy to take care of myself and do the things that I genuinely enjoy. Yay!

So, here is a sample list of things about which I, personally, give zero fucks. Most of these come under the heading of ‘things and concepts’ – by far the easiest category because, in general, not giving a fuck about these things affects nobody but you.

  1. What other people think. I’m actually still working on this one, but Knight insists that it has to be on the list otherwise all those fucks you save by not going out to parties you don’t want to go to with people you don’t like will be wasted on feeling guilty for not going to said parties, just in case somebody noticed your absence and cared on some level. In my experience, this is, in any case, unlikely.
  2. Organic wine. I’ve tried it, it’s nasty. I’m going to waste no more fucks worrying about whether I’m a good person by not drinking it.
  3. Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I know this is controversial because so many people love him, but I tried to read Love in the Time of Cholera and I just couldn’t get through it. I’m giving zero fucks about not wanting to read any more of his books.
  4. Political theory. When I arrived at university for my Masters I found that I’d missed a memo on doing at least an A Level if not a degree in political theory. And reading Foucault’s entire back catalogue. I tried but I just don’t give a fuck about any of it. Most of it sounds either so narrow as to be useless except in very specific cases, or so blindingly obvious I don’t understand why anybody felt the need to write a book (or several) on it. Perhaps I’m missing something, but really, zero fucks given.
  5. Dietary/alcohol intake/what does and doesn’t give you cancer advice from the government and various experts. I am sick to the back teeth of articles telling me what I should and shouldn’t be eating, and what is and isn’t going to kill me, and whether it’s okay to drink wine on a Tuesday but only if it’s a full moon and only as long as you then don’t drink ‘til the following month. FUCK OFF. When did we stop being trusted to realise what generally is and isn’t good for us, and act accordingly? The amounts of time, energy and money I will save by giving zero fucks about this is at stratospheric levels.
  6. Apple merchandise. Enough. I get it, it’s pretty. But it breaks like all technology, stop pretending it’s magic.
  7. I’m actually looking forward to the next fad so people can stop telling me to eat kale. It’s nasty and I don’t want it. (See also no.5.)
  8. The nuclear threat from Iran/North Korea/any country that America etc. have deemed too “uncivilised” to be allowed to hold a stick to have some defence against the bigger bullies in the playground. This is doubly useful as something to save fucks on as there is also bugger all I can do about the nuclear capabilities of any of these places. I could read all the news items and absorb the rhetoric that all these nasty barbarians are going to try and kill me, but really, it seems pretty unlikely so I just don’t want to spend a fuck on it.
  9. Conversations about TV programmes I haven’t seen. The list of things that have come out in the last several years that I haven’t seen includes but is not limited to: Breaking Bad, Boardwalk Empire, The Walking Dead, Grey’s Anatomy, The Killing, The Wire, The Sopranos, The West Wing, Lost, True Detective, Dexter, Homeland, Parks and Recreation (although I wouldn’t mind seeing that), and Downton Abbey past series 1. As you can tell I give few fucks about keeping up with recent ‘must-see’ programmes. This means I give no fucks about conversations about any of these programmes. If you insist on talking about them at length in my presence then please don’t be offended if I check my phone, stare into space or go for an extended bathroom break. Telling me I’m “really missing out” will be met with death stares. Sorry NotSorry.
  10. Anybody’s opinion on whether I should or should not have children, including the opinions of friends, family and the media at large. I am tired of being asked if I’m broody, or being told that when I hit 30 I’m going to suddenly desperately want a baby. I feel like I’m waiting anxiously for a stealth attack from my own ovaries. I’d love to know for just a day, or a week, what it’s like inside a man’s head without this sodding pressure to think about children, and whether you want them, and just in case you do, to plan for the degeneration of your own body. I’m resolving to give no fucks about this from now on, and set up a zero-fucks barrier against all baby-related propaganda.

I feel like I’m taking better care of myself already.

I hope you’ve all had a good first ten days of 2016! And apologies for this post to anybody who had ‘resolutions/any New Year new you bullshit’ on their ‘Things I don’t give a fuck about’ list (Hi Emma!).


Resolutions and radical self-care

Last year I wrote a post about New Year’s Resolutions, looking back on what I had and hadn’t accomplished from the 2014 list. I have lost the proper list I made for 2015, which is probably for the best as I think most of them were extremely vague or fairly odd. As always at this time of year there is a lot of chat about what resolutions mean and whether or not they’re helpful. When I’ve asked people what theirs are, there are all the classics like ‘go to the gym more’ (one resolution for 2015 I do remember, go swimming or cancel the membership, is sadly still on my list for 2016) but others were different and often very specific. My favourite so far is someone’s resolution to watch all the Star Wars films, as he’d never seen any of them. That’s nice and easy, although I’m sure he’ll need a few drinks or a Jar Jar Binks dartboard to get through The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones.

I’ve also seen various alternatives to resolutions which I’ve found interesting. One was to find a word for 2016 which would guide you through the year. This is through Susannah Conway’s website, which has some really interesting and useful pieces on it. I haven’t found my word yet, and I feel like it might be difficult at the end of the year if you want to try and measure your success rate. But then maybe that’s one of the less helpful things about resolutions: if you haven’t ticked them all off, you feel like a failure, even if in other ways your year was very successful. Just because I didn’t make fishcakes last year (strange resolution) doesn’t mean 2015 wasn’t a success. A website called had a potentially more helpful and healthy way of looking back on the last year – an Old Year’s Revelation. The idea is you look back over your past year and find the one thing you are most grateful for. This at least has the benefit of highlighting the positive.

I really only have one major resolution for 2016, but I think it’s going to be broad enough to encompass almost everything. I follow a woman on facebook called Laci Green, who posts fantastic videos explaining a lot of different topics, including what ‘Intersex’ means and Condom Tips for the Ladies. She hasn’t been posting so much for a while as she was suffering from some mental health issues, but she’s recently said that she’s feeling much better after taking a break and practising ‘radical self-care.’ This is a term I’ve read elsewhere in the last few weeks and both times what was meant by ‘radical self-care’ wasn’t explained. I found this frustrating until I realised that self-care probably means different things to different people, and I need to come up with my own ways to care for myself and feel better. The last few months I’ve been suffering more with anxiety, and been in and out of depressive moods, which I thought were just blips until someone pointed out that I’d been low more often than I was up for quite a while. I needed to evaluate where I was going wrong and what I could do to give myself some help.

I haven’t got a fully-fledged plan yet for how I’m going to do this, except that I need to make time to exercise and also make more time for writing, which has been neglected lately. I have ordered a book which I’m hoping will be my guidebook for practising radical self-care, called The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F**k, by Sarah Knight. I am a terrible people-pleaser, to the point that sometimes I genuinely can’t work out what I want to do because other people’s wants are encroaching too much on how I think. I am also highly empathetic, so I can often tell what people might want me to do even if they think they’re being subtle about it, and have a habit of trying to mind read which can backfire as I will normally assume people are thinking the worst, and often they’re not. This all means that I struggle to put my own needs first, because I haven’t defined what they are, and only realise too late that I’m doing something I’d rather not be doing. The subtitle of this new book is: ‘How to stop spending time you don’t have with people you don’t like doing things you don’t want to do.’ I definitely need this. I am often astonished by other people saying no to things I wouldn’t be able to say no to for fear of hurting someone’s feelings or altering their opinion of me, or people asking for things they want and need without tiptoeing around or saying ‘just’ or ‘maybe’ thirty-seven times. The book is winging its way to me as we speak, and I will let you know who I get on and whether it’s useful.

The only other definite thing I’ve thought of in terms of practising radical self-care is turning off facebook more often. I find it exhausting, the constant barrage of negative news and the pictures of people apparently having so much more fun and being so much more productive than I am. It puts my brain in a strange sort of trance, where I’m not really focussing or taking anything in but not in a relaxing way, more in a way that makes me feel strained and anxious when I stop. Of course, sometimes facebook and other social media pages are useful for links to interesting sites or funny pages, but in many ways they just aren’t useful, especially because they encourage you to have a shorter and shorter attention span. I’m hoping to use facebook in particular less and less this year, and escape that odd compulsion to check my news feed just because I can: if I’m away and have limited internet I find I do not miss it at all, which I think is very telling.

I’m hoping that by setting more boundaries for myself and deciding what I need to feel good, I’ll feel more confident and successful this year than I did last year. I don’t exercise good practice when it comes to measuring my own success, as I am a perfectionist and likely to berate myself for very small things. During my Masters it was easy, in my head, to measure my success: I got given grades every few weeks which told me if I was successful or not. Of course, academic grades aren’t a very good way to measure your self-worth, as they only cover something so specific. I placed very tough expectations on myself to keep improving where improvement wasn’t possible, or to be perfect where perfect wasn’t attainable. At work I feel like I need to find my own way of measuring my success, something I am still working out but which makes me feel quietly confident. I’m also thinking of ways of widening my perception of what makes me successful, and counting up all the things that I discount about myself but which are actually worth their weight in gold. I tend to assume that things I find easy are things everyone finds easy, even when other people tell me that this isn’t the case.

Whatever resolutions you make, or don’t make, I hope 2016 is a successful one for you, by whatever terms you measure success. Take care of yourselves.