Thoughts on how I’ve embraced positive quotes

I’ve been quite open and honest with my mental health on here in the past, and with everything else in my life, I just go through phases of how much I tell people. At the moment I’m pretty quiet, which I’m not sure is better because do people assume I’m ‘cured’ because I’m not showing it as much? Does that even matter?

Even so, I may be screaming on the inside, just like others are, but I don’t feel like doing that on the outside.

This may be in relation of whether I allow my depression and anxiety to consume me or whether I’m fighting it more. Fighting in the sense of accepting when I feel crap but surrounding myself in happy things.

I have never been one for quotes, and more specifically positive quotes, they just felt.. fake. I hate fake and it felt like I was lying if I were to have something like that around me. I do like words, however, so I would hold onto thoughts I’ve had or things which would help – like ‘I’m okay’ or ‘One Day At A Time’, which I drew at the beginning of this year after therapy. Telling yourself just one day at a time works wonders!

(Which, past Emily, is a positive quote!) (Don’t tell her, she’d be mortified!)

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I think what’s changed is that I’ve allowed positive quotes to help me.

I don’t need more bad energy surrounding me, I’ve got enough of that in my brain. So what if it’s cheesy?! So what if these positive quotes isn’t how any of us are feeling?! It doesn’t mean it’s fake, it means your trying.

It’s the difference in someone telling you to just give up, life is hard, or to help yourself because it’s worth it.

There’s just too many dark paths to go down, all I can do is stick to a route that’s genuine to me but try and have that torch, that light to guide me.

Hold onto a crystal, re-read your favourite book, pray, listen to an album on repeat, cover your bedroom in fairy lights, go for long walks, cuddle your favourite teddy

or

embrace positive quotes.

Because you’ve just got to.

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High five to small successes and hello to new packaging

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At the end of August this year something metaphorically kicked me up the arse. Not enough time has passed for hindsight, so I won’t ponder on the whys of what happened – all I know is that something happened and it made me start selling on the internet.

I’m not selling anything to you now, by the way. I know that feeling of dread when you feel like you’ve being swindled.

So I sell on etsy and ebay. Not massive rewards and I’m learning each day. I also have days where I just can’t be bothered and whatever is kicking me up the bum seems to have put on a slipper.

But wanting to be true to myself, and myself likes pretty things, I wanted to hand make packaging – just a little print and on the back I will write ‘thank you’. This was at the very beginning, one of the first things I did, and, like I said, it was all a massive shrug of the shoulders.

Well, about 20 parcels later..

..I’ve had to make my second lot.
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And this post was not going to be about this feeling in my body right now, just that I made some pretty pictures that go along with any package, but it feels good. I didn’t see it as a success till I started writing it up.

But if you don’t celebrate small successes what’s the point?!

So last night I packaged up my two leaf stamp wall hangings I made and they’re off in the postal system somewhere, with the last original print.

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And my new prints?! Well, if England’s sky wasn’t so orange right now – like is this a hurricane or aliens? – I’d take some photos in natural lighting. It’s not meant to be, even though it’s only 4 pm while I write this (we’ve gone from a sunny October day to this spooky, orange, darkness all in a couple of hours. Now all I can ask is whether Hocus Pocus actually happening?).

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Oh how gimmicks work on me

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A bottle of wine with rustic packaging.

A positive quote in fancy lettering.

Make up endorsed by a celeb.

A yellow phone.

Anything to do with Harry potter.

And now

Reading glasses that mention my favourite book on the packaging.

I don’t actually need glasses, but I went for an eye test and apparently my eyes aren’t as perfect as I once thought they were. Especially my left eye. I keep getting awful headaches and she suggested its working on computers all day and I can get weak glasses to give my eyes a break. I won’t be using them continuously, only when it starts to hurt at the computer or reading.

I wanted to buy some nice ones, rather than Poundland ones that my family buy that get thrown around and sat on daily. I had big, old, geeky ones in mind. You know the type, fashionable ones I suppose. Turns out I just can’t get them to suit me. I have a hat face, not a glasses face.

Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte, is my number one, top dog, the bees knees, and the rest of them sayings, all time favourite book. My copy, which was bought from a boot fair when I was 18 for 20p, is falling apart and looking worse for wear. It’s probably my most prised book.

I don’t collect as much stuff to do with Jane Eyre as I do Harry Potter (it’s hard not to go anywhere without seeing something Harry Potter nowadays) but I do have a card on my shelf to do with the Bronte sisters – You’re On It Like A Bronte Bonnet! 

When I saw these in TKMaxx, and James told me time and time again that the smaller ones suited me better, it was like the stars had aligned and I could live my gothic, romantic dreams. Whilst James gives me strange looks out the corner of his eye. Just imagine it.

So what’s these glasses got to do with Jane Eyre?! 

I have no idea.

Other than that warm feeling I get in thinking I have something associated with it. That’s clearly enough to make me buy them.

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Going from one bed to another

I seem to have gotten into a routine of bed hopping. Now hold on one second, that is not anything sexual before you think it! But quite frankly I’m charmed that you would think that I could pull that many guys to bed hop like that. Thank you. Sadly, I mean because of my work schedule, James’s work schedule, my depression and, lets be honest, laziness, my new routine is literally to leave one bed for the next. Like a beauty vlogger; My Morning Routine! My Daily Routine! My Nightly Routine! Bed. I’m in bloody bed. It’s always bed. I’m in bed as I write this. It’s 18:09. 

Let’s lay it out. For the last two weeks James has been getting up at 6:30am for work, and seeing as the only time we can see each other is in the week, I am there. Waking up. At 6:30am. On my days off. I get home at 7:30am and go straight to bed. I don’t sleep, I drink coffee, blog, watch YouTube. Bed.

Suddenly it’s like 10am, shit. I must do something. How about a tea this time? Well, while I’m drinking it; bed. Breakfast? Bed. What’s next? What do I want to do? I go off and do it, and then when I’m not; bed. Maybe bed is my ‘sofa’ because I live with my parents. Whatever, it’s still a bed.

I’ve said bed so many times it’s no longer a word.

Bed.

Bunk.

Chaise.

Berth.

Trundle.

Thank you Google.

Is my bed the best one in the world? No*. I feel like it hardly resembles a mattress with all the lumps, bumps and indentations, probably from me spending the whole of my existence in it. I think the real reason is because it’s in the centre of all my things. My plants I love watering, my laptop, any craft things, clothes, make up, I dunno, everything I own I suppose. But it’s a bed, it screams lay down. Chill. Browse YouTube. Have another coffee. Then before you know it, I’m going back to James’s to another bed because he’s bed is like his ‘sofa’.

It doesn’t hurt at the moment, like I’m not frustrated at how much time I’m in bed because I’ve been really low. Which, god, sounds like the worst idea. I’m still active, I went for a 3.51 mile walk today, going for a scoot with the dogs tonight, wrote a blog post (not including this one), made bruschetta, made probably about 5 cups of tea or coffee… I just rest in bed in between, I recharge. I’m looking after myself. This is dangerous territory though, I’m fully aware. I do not want to go back to the days when I lived in bed and wouldn’t leave.

Now this is the point in the post where I should make a vow that I won’t keep or put myself up for a challenge that I’m just not mentally prepared for. Nah, I’ll give that a miss for now. No Trying To Stay Out Of My Bedroom For A Week challenge. No I Promise To Only Use My Bed For Sleeping vow

Here’s what I’ll do, a compromise if you will, I’ll move my bed. To be fair, I’ve been thinking it a while. Well, like a week. I’ll start that in this post right now actually, so when I get home tomorrow I mean, because there’s going to be a lot to move, like, fucking hell, why do I have a arm chair in my room? (Surely that should be my ‘sofa’?!) (Mind blown) If I move my bed to the corner of the room, rather than the centre, I’ll have room to move, do my crafts etc. I don’t know what else, this experiment might not work.. But I’m giving it a go!! Because it’s not healthy to keep bed hopping and I really don’t want to catch an STI!

That was a joke. A poor one I know. Still a joke.

 

*When reading this to James he wanted me to include that although my bed isn’t the best in the world, he thinks his bed is;

“No, don’t add I think it is, say ‘his bed is the best in the world’,”

“Yeah, ‘he thinks his bed is the best in the world’,”

“No! ‘his bed is the best in the world’!”

“That’s what I said, ‘he think his bed is the best in the world’.”

People get so touchy about their beds.

“Get out of mine then if you think it’s not the best in the world.”

 

Road trip preparations and the first failure

  • Deciding if I want to go on a road trip –  I do – CHECK
  • Plan everything or book on the way? Book on the way – CHECK
  • Cheesy notebooks?

check

Half way there already right?

  • Book two weeks off work – CHECK
  • Plan route – CHE...

Bugger.

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So rental cars from France can’t go into the Czech Republic or Poland. The irony is that this plan for the road trip started with ‘should we go back to Prague?’ because that’s where we had our first holiday. Then the conversation was ‘oh, I’ve always wanted to see Auschwitz! Let’s go to Poland too.. Hey, lets have a road trip!’ then a freeze frame of a jumping high five and some American music plays while the screen fades to black.

It wasn’t a dramatic fall finding that out, we are just going to take another route and see them another time. That was the plan for a while though, so what to do?! Well, now the plan is there is no plan, we leave in 8 days. Driving and deciding with Emily and James. That’s the silver lining, we are braving it like no man plan before. It was 31 hours and 1956 miles. Gone. That route I studied, gone. Now it could be so much more or so much less. Whatever, I shrug my shoulders and act cool. I mean, Auschwitz was literally the only place my partner wanted to see.. But the night before we found this out I was showing him places we are visiting in France, Belgium and Germany, so with this excitement cushioning him the fall from grace was softer.

Randomly now, did you know that on Google street view you can visit the brothels in Prague?! I recommend checking out Sweet Paradise. Entertained me for hours.

Anyway…

  • Booked the cars – CHECK
  • Booked the ferry – CHECK
  • Bought deodorant – CHECK

 

What more, I’m going for a completely aluminium free one, so look forward to updates on my armpits. Exciting times ahead.

 

Stress of the future

A good day is when a new door opens in your brain to new thought. I say this positively because it has to be, it’s not something to negatively dwell on. Today I’ve been confronted with something I kind of reject. There’s a question to why I reject it, whether it’s because I oppose anything to do responsibility or opposing what ‘I’m meant to do’. I do debate what I should do vs what I want to do. Regardless on if what I want to do is also what I should do. So whatever the reason why am I scared to prepare for the future?

I’ve seen the importance in it many a time. In the past I had the savings for a rainy day. And now? Now I hate the thought of waiting to live. I suppose this comes from people saying they’ll ‘wait for retirement to do that’ (I’m talking people in their 20s), and I think it’s absolutely absurd. No one knows if they’ll even reach their 60s. Plus by that point, and I try to say this sensitively, will you be able to do the same things as in your youth? You probably won’t even want to.

I’ve also had older people say to me that they wished they travelled. So many wishes and oh my God so many ‘don’t have kids’ and ‘don’t get married’. Not that I take this ‘advise’, every person is different. Also these people probably have so many blessings that they aren’t counting, which I may not have if I choose travel over a deposit for a house. You must substitute one regret for another.

I like to think that if my life got completely uprooted I would see it as my next adventure, but I’m saying that from the perspective of living with my parents, having a roof over my head and dinner on the table. If that was all taken away in a day, then what? What options do I have? I suppose, seriously thinking about it now, I would sell all my possessions, try to stay at someone’s house, take it a day at a time.. Then what if I had to provide, what if I’m not singular and there’s a lot on my shoulders? I did live on my own for four years and the stress was there. It’s all about finding the balance of doing what you want with your life, but also preparing for your future in case shit hits the fan.

I mean, this all being said, you can’t really have a plan in place can you. Otherwise you’ll be one of these people preparing for the zombie apocalypse or a nuclear war. You just have to be brave and somehow muster the courage to see a massive negative as a chance to learn. That’s what ‘failures’ are.

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The Pressure Of Being Happy

I have a daily/hourly/constant argument with myself about being happy. I haven’t completely narrowed down the reason why. Clearly obsessing and putting so much concentration on it doesn’t help, I’m literally creating the pressure. But then again I know others struggle with it, so maybe it’s a human thing, or a anxiety and depression thing. Today, on a positive note, I’m ok with not knowing the reason. Progress!

I’ve worked out happiness is an individual thing, and to be confident with yourself and unapologetic. I’ve already spent too much of my time doing things because others my age group were doing it. I never enjoyed hanging out in a big group of teenagers in a shopping centre, and trying to act like an adult when I was 14. It gave me an awful feeling inside, I suppose with hindsight it’s pretending to fit in. I never was much of a sheep though, my trampoline was my definition of joy up till I was 17. 

Yes, we have to do these things to learn. Though, I remember getting so confused when I didn’t enjoy things others were seeming to love. Clubbing till I’m absolutely gazeboed (Michael McIntyre joke, anyone?) and an uncontrollable mess – really, this weekend too?! I enjoy it when I’m drunk and still able to dance, please and thank you, but that’s not my epitomy of fun. It’s funny we feel like we have to fit these roles.

But no, I instantly went to why am I weird?! Why can’t I fit in?! Why am I me and not you?! 

Oh I can be very dramatic. Just imagine me falling to my knees yelling up to the sky and you wouldn’t be far off the mark.

Flash forward a few years; I really enjoy drinking but I also enjoy knitting. I like doing things and being out and about but I always prefer calmer situations. I enjoy getting to know peoples quirks and find it increasingly hard to be around fake people. Sometimes I’d prefer getting consumed in crafts than seeing anyone. I like speaking openly about my feelings and encourage others too. Plants are nice, I dont enjoy consumerism but I’m a bit of a hoarder, I love anime and I find any excuse to play, because I think that’s the key to my happiness. 

I’m always double checking and putting that pressure on myself, and I hate it, yuck. I’m trying so hard at the moment though, I’m really trying to help myself. Knowing that is a big boost and like I said, it’s an individual journey and self reminder – ‘don’t doubt yourself’. 

Just a few thoughts I wanted to share from my wardrobe covered in self reminders. (I’m not literally sharing them from there, that’s not my hiding place where I write blog posts from. You know what I mean.)