Some autumn goals

 

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Like Summer, I’m writing some goals for Autumn – not to stick rigidly to but to inspire me to not be lazy like my inner self really wants. I really just want to lay in bed, drink hot chocolate and watch films.

Just a brief run down of each goal – go swimming every week. I love swimming, even though I’m awful at it and I just end up making my own swimming strokes, but James and I started going more often recently and I felt great after. During I feel like my limbs are on fire, but after wards I’m on top of the world.

Also good for depression.

Fly a kite – if you’ve been reading my blog you understand this one. I’m not giving up yet.

Print of little brother for St Lucian charity – I drew a photo of my adopted brother months ago and I saw it the other day and it hit me that I should try and sell it to raise money for a St Lucian charity (where he’s originally from) with the sales. I haven’t looked into the idea at all, so I have many steps under this goal. I have a charity in mind though, because he and Mum do Christmas shoe boxes each year for this charity, filled with toys for children.

Do something special with James – since my partner, James, has a new job we see each other less. We see each other briefly each day still but it’s never doing much other than shopping or chores. So it’ll be lovely to set a day just for us two, with no chores, no work and just fun.

 


 

That’s all for now. Less outdoors things this season but hopefully having these goals up will motivate me to do more – and more meaning a good scooting session soon. Scooting session soon. Say that three times fast.

Thanks! Bye!

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The trick that makes you drink water

I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while now and for once it was never laziness that stopped me – I postponed it for more scientific research.

Okay, maybe, slightly, not a scientist. At all. Nor much research has gone into this, just a self discovery, then self reflection and then finally self acceptance. Which takes time, and who I am to rush what was going on???

So let’s start; the cup that makes me drink water. 

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This happened by pure accident. Pure, accidental, magic. I needed a drink: I used this cup. That was it. It’s a special cup because one of my best friends bought it for me, but it’s not one I always reach for, except if I’m having an alcoholic beverage – I think that’s the trick here, but just hold on a second.

I’ve always wanted to drink more, I think most people says this. I don’t know why It’s difficult, I can’t think of a reason other than we just don’t want to. So there was no intention when I reached for this cup, over choosing a glass one but before I knew it I had drunk it all. Filled it up once more, I carried on with my day, and my cup was empty again.

I kept weeing, and kept filling the cup back up. Ew, not with my wee. I should have worded that differently.

I still wasn’t paying much attention to what was happening, assuming I must have eaten a lot of salt recently (I feel like that’s a thing) so I don’t know how many cups I was going through. BUT when it happened the next day, and the next etc I noticed it could have been up to 20 cups a day.

I was feeling better all round. Weeing a lot, obviously, sometimes felt like I had a huge stomach, but I did feel better in myself and my skin was looking a lot clearer but then again I don’t think I’ve paid too much attention to that part.

I went with it, considered writing about it on my blog, but held it off to see where it was going and what impact it could have on my life. I began bringing it to work with me and while I worked on the computer from 6.30am to 1.30pm I would constantly sip away. I would take it out and about with me. It’s been there in photos I’ve posted online in someway or another; been there in a cosy shot of my bed at night, been there in an item I listed on ebay and it’s even been there in accidental shots before the real photo. I bought another one because I loved it so much, and suddenly I realised it was there, lodged into my routine. It’s been well over 28 days – I’m sure that’s how long it takes to make something a routine.

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In the past I’ve bought other cups and bottles before in hopes this would happen. I’ve made resolutions, I’ve made plans, I’ve made to do lists hoping I would drink more. And yet the most impractical cup – it can leak from the top and it’s not dishwasher safe – has done what I’ve wanted for years. It begged the questions..

What the fuck was happening?!

Of course when I questioned it my health anxiety went to ‘you’re probably drying, you know. It’s about time.’ – but that’s just every day life of an anxious brain. I then wondered if it was because it’s quite childish and fun and how many adults do you really see using plastic sipping cups? I’m not sure though, I think that’s just an added benefit. I worked it out anyway: I think I’m drinking alcohol. Well, subconsciously. (I personally am smart enough to know the difference. May not be a scientist but I know my alcohol and have been known to drink my boyfriend under the table.) (Also known for not being able to but giving it a good try.)

I associate straws and this cup with drinking alcohol, and I don’t know many people that drink alcohol slowly. You could easily knock back at least three in an hour without realising. You talk and sip, you dance and sip, you do everything and sip. And my brain is like yesssss, it’s party time, and drink on like I would with alcohol. It naturally links up with something in my brain, that’s wired this way from being a teen – like remember student nights when you could get spirits ridiculously cheap so you kept them coming? (I never went to uni, only the student nights).

Even as I’m typing this I’m having to go refill – I don’t even realise.

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I’ve tried to share this trick with a few people around me, but I don’t think they’re understanding that the cup, that actual cup is important. They went and bought other bottles (and *cough cough* haven’t kept to it). It’s the plastic, you don’t mind taking it with you everywhere and knocking it about, and also the handle which just makes it easy to carry. And the straw. The ‘can I have a southern comfort and lemonade please? ‘Do you want a straw?’ straw.

I’ve thought before that maybe I couldn’t drink a lot of water because my body just doesn’t want it, forgetting how much I could easily drink if there was a spirit involved.

And now I sound like an alcoholic, which oh, well, I do sound like an alcoholic. But not me, anxiety and depression, yes, but not alcoholic.

So this post has gone to something healthy to alcohol. Literal opposites. I came to a point though, after the shock, of being like fuck it. It sounds like an awful reason for my brain to easily drink water, but it makes sense that psychologically I’m tricking myself, and if that’s what it takes I’m not going to stop it. For one reason – it works. The ace of hearts is on the wall and Darren Brown has explained how, but even so, placebos can still work even when you know they’re a placebo. Point is:

This trick works.

(I’m assuming it may not if you’ve never been a drinker) (let me know?)

So rather me writing a post about the benefits drinking lots of water has had on me, you can Google that, I wanted to tell you my little secret to getting started and this journey I went on.

Now, is this all just a sign that I drink too much alcohol? Nah. Also, good to add, drinking this much water every day means hangovers have gotten a lot better! Result!

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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.”