Always angry!

I feel like I spend my life being frustrated, negative and angry! I honestly need to try and be positive. I work very hard daily to find at least one positive in every situation and you know what? It’s tiring.

Even growing up I was a very negative child. I saw the worst in everything/everyone, and in all honesty, was probably a nightmare to be around. I was angry when I was little because my parents were divorced, I was stuck in the middle, and I was being bullied. I was so frustrated and bitter about the whole thing, that it made me incredibly negative. There was a girl I went to school with, Janine, who was the happiest/bubbliest girl I think I’ve ever met. Just such a lovely, genuinely nice person too. I would look at her sometimes and think “how can someone be this happy all the time? Its not natural!”. In hindsight, Janine probably just wasn’t an angry, bitter girl. Makes sense really. Abraham Lincoln once said “You’re only as happy as you make your mind up to be”, and I believe he’s right. If we start something with negative thoughts, it will only ever be a negative experience.

You would think that as I’ve gotten older, I would have curbed this by now. I have managed to find a way to cope, by using PMA, but it’s so much effort and tiring that sometimes it annoys me and just contributes to my frustrations. Why do I have to find it so hard to be positive? To be happy? To not be angry/frustrated all the time?

I have things and people that make me happy, but it’s like my brain cannot see this as enough. I have had bad things happen, and that’s it. Arse has fallen out of my world, I hate everyone, everyone hates me, it’s all gone to shit and I’m gonna eat some worms. My mind races over the negative comments/situations and blows them all out of proportion. Then I need to sit, and painstakingly go over everything and find the positives. If I don’t do that, one negative thing will just snow ball into the next, and the next, and so on until I have the mood I’m in today.

I am currently sitting in my room, in the world’s worst mood and I’ve been very politely asked to just stay in here and chill. I’m not even mad at that. I get why my husband would rather not deal with it. I don’t want to deal with it either, but I’m stuck with me. I have let things this week get on top of me to the point of not being able to sleep (shock!), and having nightmares when I do sleep. I’ve let life and work just get on top of me, taking no time to do my PMA and this is where it’s gotten me. Grimacing at my phone as I type this blog.

This week I have managed to bark at everyone who has dared to give me a sideways glance, or heaven forbid, disagree. I also do this thing where I look to others to make me feel better, and when they dont, this makes me frustrated. What is that about? It’s not anyone else’s responsibility to make me happy. It’s mine.

So here it is; I’m sat here, after a pretty meh week, feeling frustrated. I’m then feeling angry with myself for letting it get this out if hand and now being sat here in the world’s worst mood. I have spent the week feeling completely detached and it’s been horrible.

What now? I need to get a grip and focus on my PMA. I need to start looking at all the positives that have come out of this week, even if it’s only one. I need to look toward the weekend and week ahead and find the positives, so that I’m not taking this bad mood forward.

To all of you that have had to endure me this week, I’m sorry! Believe it or not, I do try to not be so angry, grumpy, negative, argumentative and just a general pain to be around.

This is why PMA is so important. Without it, I don’t cope. Yes this week is a bit of a write off, but tomorrow is a new day! It’s also Saturday, so a longer lie, no work and hopefully a chance to spend sometime with my family and enjoy the rest of my weekend.

Do any of you find it hard to see the positives? Do you feel angry/frustrated all the time?


Live and let live!


Well the gist of this entire blog can be summarised to this; Don’t be a dick!


World’s smallest violin….


When I was growing up I was bullied for being poor and ugly. I mean being one of them is bad enough, but both? Damn! I grew up in a single parent family, in a dingy wee scheme in Scotland, I’ve got a big nose, nothing special to look at, that is unless you think I’m a bit speshul – but that’s not quite the special you want to be now, is it? My mum couldn’t afford to kit me out like some of the kids I knew, nor did she have any taste, so the stuff I wore was something else to be mocked for. All in all, I’d describe my childhood as shit for the most part. I wasn’t alone through all this though, I did have my big sister, 10 years my senior and clearly the one who got all the genes for good looks. Not too sure what I was left with, perhaps a good sense of humour? My sister and I can tell stories of our childhood that would make most gasp in horror/disbelief, but thankfully we manage to laugh about it now. In fact, half the time when we reminisce we are kinked with laughter. I don’t know if that’s more a nervous thing, or if it’s just the fact the stories are bloody funny. Probably a bit of both.

If there is one thing that bullying teaches you, it’s to laugh at yourself. You have the privilege of letting others point out all the flaws you know about, and, to point out new ones. It’s great. Having this makes you acutely self-aware, meaning that as you grow older, you’re able to crack better jokes about yourself than others, leaving no room for the bullies. For a brief time during my late teens/early 20’s I cared not a single jot what others thought of me. That was a blissful time, as far as self-confidence went. As I’ve gotten older and anxiety/depression has been a part of my life, I’ve become more self-conscious now, than I think I was as a child. I’m over weight, more stripes than a tiger (kids have been worth every one), horrible skin, post teen acne, frizzy hair, still have a big nose, big squint eyes, a top lip that is not symmetrical (who knew that could even be a thing!!), a large forehead (well this was new to me over the last year, but hey, what is one more thing to add to my list right?), lines appearing around my eyes (hello crow’s feet), and horrible man hands. Yup, I have these horrible manly looking hands, but they’re like a midget version, so let’s just call them my ‘Trump hands’.

My daily wake up and get ready for the day routine goes like this:

  • Roll out of bed and marvel at my less than adequate physique in our full-length mirror. Convince myself today is the day I will diet (this has still not happened)
  • Go in the shower, and be grossed out by myself as I get washed and wonder how on earth someone like me can be married. Sometimes, just sometimes, I have a wee blub about this.
  • Whilst in the shower, I think of all the people I know that are pretty, skinny and don’t have stripes and spend a moment hating them and wondering if they even appreciate how lucky they actually are?
  • Get dressed as quickly as I can, but huff and haw about the fact it might be warm outside but I need to remain covered up ALL the time due to my skin, so I’ll just have to sweat like a Glaswegian watching Crime Watch (If you’re from the west coast it’s only a joke!).
  • Once dressed I’ll start to apply my makeup, but not before I scrutinise every square inch of my spots, uneven skin tone, pores and horrible facial features. Namely my nose! I mean this hooter is turning corners before me. I swear if I tilt my head up toward the sun, I’ll eclipse half the city. I wear more makeup now, than I ever have in my life. Why? Well, it helps me to feel better about how I look for one. Plus, I feel that If I was to wear a burka, as lets face it, they hide a multitude of sins, I may actually cause more offence, so makeup applied by catapult is the way to go for me.

By the time I leave the house I’m worried that the outfit I’ve picked isn’t flattering enough, that my makeup will look silly, that my hair is full of fly aways and probably now getting frizzy, do I have more spots? It’s completely exhausting to be this self-aware and indulgent in how you look, and not even for the good reasons. You know, if I looked like a model and I was just concerned with how I looked all the time, I doubt that would be as bad, as being concerned for the negative reasons. You know what I mean?

How do I feel better about myself?

Despite having these negative feelings and thoughts about myself, and a very clear deep self-loathing, I get up and put a smile on daily. I get showered, dressed and put my face on, quite literally. Once I’m out of the house, either for work, shopping, or doing something with the kids, I just get focused on the task in hand and having light hearted conversations with people to completely distract my thoughts, and for the most part, this works.

Until I got post teen acne, I didn’t wear makeup at all. So, the fact I wear it every day now is a chore, and one I definitely wish I didn’t have to do. I’m no makeup artist and with being so pale I struggle to get a foundation that completely matches, something I’m aware of. I do my best to cover my flaws, to not have people be grossed out by me, or to see how ugly I really am underneath all of this slap.

With regards to clothes, usual attire is a pair of skinny jeans, black vest with lumberjack shirt, or a band/movie tshirt and trainers. That’s it. Office attire is a basic dress from H&M with a shirt over the top, or a cardigan. Nothing outlandish or fashionable here. Just basic. Very very very rarely will you see me go out of my comfort zone to wear something different, as I always fear that I’ll look like mutton. So, I stick with what I know works and I’m usually happy.

I love Tattoo’s. If I had enough money I’d be covered head to toe. Why? Well I’ve got really horrible skin, so what better way to get body confidence than to have it coloured in and make it look pretty? My first Tattoo was when I was 16, my sister took me and bluffed that I was 18. My Tattooist was a drunk, who turned up late with a tin of Tennent’s lager in one hand and spliff in the other. I was undeterred as a badass little 16-year-old and I got it anyway. It’s not my nicest Tattoo,*inner voice* “no shit Sherlock!”, and I’ve considered covering it up, but you know what? It’s a memory, and a funny one at that, so it stays. I then have a few more on my lower arm, as I hate my skin there, and having my Tattoo’s makes me not care about having short sleeves.

So, c’mon,what’s the point to this blog?

We all know someone who likes to be sarky all the time, and someone who thinks they’re being discreet with their eye rolls, when really we all know they’re about as discreet as a brick in the face? Yup, we all do. As we know, I have anxiety and I’m a naturally a paranoid person, meaning I do doubt myself, and I doubt everyone and assume everyone is disingenuous until proven otherwise. This does make situations and making friends difficult, and is more than likely why all my close friends are the most honest people you’ll meet. No second guessing and that is just how I like it. Well, today I have been met head on by a situation that has made me doubt myself, and someone I know.

I have decided to wear something that I wouldn’t normally consider. Something that I saw in the shop and loved, but never envisioned myself having the courage to wear. Then a couple of weeks ago, we had gorgeous weather one weekend and I thought to myself “Stuff it, I’m buying it”, and I did. I came home, tried it on, and my husband told me I looked lovely in it. The next day it belted down with rain and I’ve not had a chance to wear it since trying it on. Typical. The past couple of days have been really warm/humid and I’ve been quite uncomfortable in work, done up like nanook of the north, so I thought “aha I have this top I bought, I’m going to wear that”.

When I was getting ready to leave this morning, I asked my husband and kids, “how do I look?”, and they all assured me I looked fine. I actually felt really good, like I had a little bit of confidence. When out, I had one friend lean in and say, “You’re looking really skinny today”, another asked me to walk around for a better look and told me I was looking really good. Ummm excuse me whilst my ego inflates. That really did make me feel good. I did actually start to think my choice was a goodun. This was until, someone I know walked past, and gave what can only be described as a grimace, a look toward someone else, then an eye roll. They must have thought they were being really subtle, OR, they figure they don’t  need to try and be subtle? Who knows, but, regardless that is what happened and I found myself thinking “WTF is your problem?”. I left it though, I kept smiling, figured it was maybe aimed at someone else. Kept telling myself that not everything is about me (I know right? Who knew the world didn’t revolve around me), and that this person could be having a bad day. So, I parked the negative thoughts, continued to feel good about myself, then went about my day. Later on I tried to speak to this person and I was met with a curt response. Again, I put this down to them having a bad day, so walked on and left it.

Thanks to having horrible skin, I also have a really oily T-Zone, meaning I feel compelled to constantly powder my nose. Otherwise it’s shiny, you can see all the pores and let’s face it, it’s my biggest (pun fully intended) complex. As soon as I feel my nose getting oily, I’ll pull out my foundation brush and just give a quick dust over. Nothing major, just enough to make me feel a bit better. Well today, it was a bit cooler and I hadn’t felt compelled to powder my T-Zone, that was until I got a text. As I raised my phone I caught my reflection and I was mortified. Without hesitation I got my brush and promptly powdered my face, thinking things like “OMG how long has it been like that for? Who has seen it?”, when all I hear from the side of me is a dry/sarky comment . Sorry? what? I looked around and this person wasn’t even looking at me when talking to me, just carrying on about their business, of which to me, is more than a little rude. So now I’m thinking, nope, this isn’t a bad day, clearly this is something personal. Why would me powdering my T-Zone warrant any comment? Or was this also a dig at the top I’m wearing? So, I bit back. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have. Why lower myself, but I was miffed. I’m not even sure of their retort, as I couldn’t hear them over my now descending red mist, but what I did see was the smirk at my reaction. Clearly my biting back, had been the reaction they were looking for. Well, colour me pissed.

I then proceed to carry on about my business, and just let myself calm down. I realised, that if this was the kind of reaction they were looking for, they won’t get it from me. They’re not a friend, haven’t been, never will be, and their opinion of me actually stands for nowt.  So, it was time to follow Mum’s advice “Smile and walk away, they hate that”. If they want to be sarky, let them, I will not lower myself to their level. I’m a good person and if I’m not your cup of tea, then you know what, your loss ?


No-one will EVER:

  • Think I’m uglier than I do
  • Hate me as much as I do
  • Doubt my ability as much as I do
  • Find me as annoying as I do myself

I am my own biggest critic, but you know what I am sure of, I’m a bloody good person. Those closest to me know this, and those that don’t take the time to see it, then that is their loss. I’m a very honest, straight talking person. If I don’t like you, I won’t go out of my way to be around you and be overly friendly, but by the same token I won’t be a dick. I would never ever belittle someone, or try to make a mug of them. Why? Well because I’m not an asshole, that’s why. I will never ever presume to think I’m better than anyone, as I’m a firm believer that we’re all equal, we just each have our own things that we excel at, doesn’t make us better than each other.

I have always raised my kids to be kind and see the good in people. I have raised them to be the kids I’d wished I’d known growing up, friends I’d wished I’d had, and I must say I’m damn proud of the young adults they’re becoming. They’re incredibly loving, caring, compassionate, empathetic and just all round good people. I will continue to lead by example, I will not be brought down to negative levels and I definitely won’t let anyone make me feel any worse about me than I already do. Believe it or not, despite everything that has been said, I do believe I’m worth something, and I’m definitely worth more than petty snipes.

If you’re like me, and self-loath, don’t let anyone else add to it. We exhaust ourselves daily overthinking everything as it is, why on earth should we let others steal more of our time/energy? Wear what you want, put makeup on if you want, put your hair how you want and live how you want, you know why? Your anxiety is always going to be there to beat you up anyways, so at least try and have a little fun and enjoy yourself along the way. Despite my snark comment/look today, I did get two compliments, of which totally top trumps the snark one, not just because they were nice, but because they’re from people I care about and whose opinions matter.


I went, I saw, I conquered

Thursday 8th June

The night before leaving for Download Music Festival, I was so tired and anxious beyond belief. I was thinking of all the horrible things that could go wrong; What if I go and it’s overcrowded and I feel claustrophobic? What if the people are horrible? What if the toilets are really bad and I cannot face going and I’m stuck out in a field with no alternative? What if I cannot cope and I want to run, but I’ve got nowhere to go? These thoughts raced and I was thinking up all kinds of scenarios as to how it might be and how I might feel. See the trend, a lot of ‘if’ and ‘might’ going on. I tore myself up really bad that I only got 4 hours sleep, and this only had a knock-on effect with my anxiety for the next day.

Friday 9th June

Today was the day! Even when getting dressed and checking our suitcases, I was worried. Getting in the car, I could feel the dread in my stomach. I couldn’t just get out the car. Think of the money we have spent and the effort we have gone through. I just had to woman up and get on with the drive. It was a long way to Donnington, of which gave me a lot of time to overthink. By the time we got to the hotel, my stomach was in knots. We got checked into our room, quickly changed into something more festival appropriate, and off we went to get our bus. I did the obligatory ‘my life is amazing’ post to facebook, of which was all smiles, but inside I was thinking “Lets just stay in the room. Lets just say we did, and don’t”. I couldn’t do that to my husband, here he was, at a festival he wasn’t all too bothered about, for me. I couldn’t just let him down, and what about the bands I really wanted to see? I would honestly hate myself if I just sat in the room, I had to go.

When we got on the bus and it was packed, I was already regretting leaving the hotel. The journey was only a few minutes, and on the approach, I could see the sheer size of Donnington, it was massive. I started to feel intimidated and scared for how lost I would feel once I was there. I was already anticipating how much I was going to hate it. Getting off the bus we were ushered through the campsite and I couldn’t believe how many tents there were. Seeing this brought home just how many people I was going to have to contend with. I could feel my stomach doing summersaults and my throat getting tight. We then had to stand in queues with security to get our bands checked, and I had to get my bag checked. The queue was quite long and for some reason, despite me having nothing to hide, my palms were now sweaty. I didn’t like this at all. By the time we got into the main arena, I just wanted to run. Why on earth did I not just stay in the hotel? I would at least feel safer there. My husband could see that I was uneasy and was doing everything to reassure me that I’ll be ok, and I was telling him I knew I would be and trying to smile it off.

My husband was getting hungry and offering to get us food, but eating was furthest from my mind. I honestly couldn’t stomach it. I also didn’t want him to go and stand in a queue and leave me, so I went with him, although I wasn’t getting anything. The smell of the food was even making me feel queasy. It was so sunny, noisy, crowded and I wasn’t having any fun at all. Again, why was I not just back in the hotel?

First band up was Five Finger Death Punch, one I really enjoy, but one of my daughters’ favourite. I couldn’t miss them, I’d promised my daughter video’s, pictures and a phone call when they were on. We walked down to the main stage, but not too close, we kept a bit of distance. When the music kicked in, I stood rigid holding my husband’s hand. I just kept telling myself I was going to be OK and to just enjoy the music. I called my daughter, who said that she could barely hear them (probably due to me being quite a bit back), so I focused on taking pictures and video’s. This meant we had to move a little bit closer. Every song they played, I knew, and I started to find myself getting lost in the moment. I was starting to sing along with them and the crowd. By the time they had finished their set, I was smiling, bopping (yes you read right) along with everyone, singing and having fun! I had just seen Five Finger Death Punch! For the whole time they were on stage I hadn’t had one single negative thought, I didn’t feel scared and I’d tuned out to how many people were around me. My anxious feelings hadn’t just magically gone, but I was definitely feeling better.

Next up Prophets of Rage, and my god were they good! My husband and I were chanting along to all their songs, taking a little trip down memory lane with tracks such a ‘Jump Around’ and ‘Insane in the membrane’. By now I was starting to enjoy myself, the music was great, the crowd seemed to be a friendly one and I was now feeling a bit more relaxed.

Finally, the big band of the night was System of a Down. What can I say? They were nothing short of amazing. I knew every song they played, I knew all the words, and I was in my element singing along and moving with the crowd. There were at least 100,000 fellow fans around us, all singing along in unison, and it felt amazing to be a part of it. There was no room for anxious thoughts, no time to be scared, and quite frankly, no f*%^$ given. All I was caring about was watching them absolutely kill it, and having the privilege to be part of it.

On our way back to the bus, I didn’t feel overwhelmed quite like I did when I arrived. The queue to go through security on the way out didn’t seem as bad this time either.

Saturday 10th June

Today’s set list wasn’t as good as Friday’s, and definitely not as awesome as Sunday’s, but I was still happy to go. We got up in the Morning, had breakfast, as I now had an appetite, then headed off for our bus. The queues going in appeared bigger, and the crowd in the main arena too. I could feel my stomach start to flutter, but I was no longer feeling the urge to run. I was happy to let the feeling wash over me and push through. When in the arena we decided to go and see a band we’d never heard before, Raveneye, who were actually really good. Whilst I knew none of their songs, and I couldn’t sing along, I still found myself being completely immersed in the moment. We moved round to the main stage where Alestorm were playing; they’re a good fun folk/pirate/rock band. I’d heard a few of their songs previously, but didn’t know them well enough to sing along, but this didn’t stop me from enjoying them. People in the crowd were dressed as pirates, fists pumping in the air, most chanting along, and everyone was having such a good time. It was just a happy, feel good atmosphere, that I was really thankful to be a part of. During the day I’d not thought about being anxious once. Not even a little bit. I thought nothing of just wandering into the crowds, throwing my hands into the air, cheering, dancing along, I was just really enjoying myself. I had even said before I left, that I wasn’t going to drink when there, as I wanted my wits about me. That got thrown out of the window, and eventually I was sitting with a pint of beer, on my newly purchased camping chair enjoying all of the new/unheard of bands with my husband. It was such a good day, despite not knowing many of the bands playing that well, so surely Sunday was going to kill it?

Sunday 11th June

AEROSMITH!! You never forget your firsts; your first friend, your first kiss, your first love etc. Well my first rock band was Aerosmith and they were Sunday’s main act. I woke up like a kid on Christmas, so excited to see them. I didn’t feel anxious, I didn’t even have the dull ache in the pit of my stomach, I was just thinking about the music. When we got to the site, I didn’t give a hoot about the crowds, the queues, I was too busy smiling and having a good time. We got in, got a pint, and made our way to our first band, Fozzy. We were sat, drinking and head bopping away when my husband points out that the lead singer is Chris Jericho, an ex-wrestler. This would definitely explain his good showmanship and his ability to get the crowd all worked up. Good start to what would be one of the most amazing days of my life, except for the day I become a Mum (obviously).

We killed the day by sitting with fellow rock fans, eating good food, drinking, and singing/bopping along to some fab rock bands. Steel Panther & Clutch were definitely a highlight of the day, although, they were virtually on at the same time, so we had to split our time between the two. This involved us having to be rushed, negate our way through the large crowds and try to find a good spot to see the bands. Did I care? Nope. Not a single bit. The crowds were filled with great people and the bands were worth the effort.

When it got to 20:30, we made our way to the main stage as Aerosmith were starting at 20:50. I knew I wanted to be at the front, but I get claustrophobic in crowds. What was I to do? My husband suggested that we at least try and get to the front, as I would be gutted to not be close to them. So, we made our way to the front right of the stage, near the portaloo’s. My rationale for this was; no-one would want to stand too close to them, meaning I would have an out if I was freaking out. When we got there, there was already a good bit of a crowd. We made our way as far forward as we could, meaning I was about 4/5 rows back. The closer it got to 20:50, the bigger the crowd got, and I kept looking over my shoulder for my way out. This was getting more and more packed, and becoming less and less of an out. My husband could see I was starting to get worked up, and that I looked like I wanted to run. He held my hand and told me I was fine, but if I really wanted to go, he’d get me out. I chose to stay, and I waited patiently for them to start. It got to 20:55, and there was no show and I now had a group of girls smoking to my right. So now, here I am, stood in a cloud of their smoke, feeling like I’m starting to get anxious at my lack of an out, and no Aerosmith. I then looked up to my left, and my god. There was just a sea of expectant faces. I reckon that all 300,000 were now there and from the main stage, right back to the Dog Tooth stage was filled. At this moment, I felt incredibly small and I started to feel bigger pangs of anxiety, then BOOM, the lights kicked in and the crowd started cheering. They were here! I’m not even going to lie, I cried. Nope, correction, I sobbed. My anxiety about being in a crowd, had been replaced with feelings of being utterly overwhelmed. Aerosmith went on to play all of their classics, and Joe Perry even did a blues cover, of which he rocked out of the park. I sobbed, sang and cheered with the masses. It was such an amazing feeling, that left no room what so ever for feeling scared. I no longer looked at the crowd as daunting, I looked at them as people who were just like me, who were just excited to be there and chanting along to some of the most iconic rock songs in rock history.

In the lead up to Aerosmith playing, I’d said that they would definitely have to play ‘Dream On’. This is their farewell tour, and Dream On to Aerosmith is like Bohemian Rhapsody (must mosh to this every time I’m in the car and it comes on. Thanks Wayne’s World) to Queen. It’s a must! Well, they finished  ‘Dude Looks Like a Lady’ and just left the stage. Lights were out, and nothing was said. I was gutted. Where did they go? Were we not even going to get a thanks for turning up? I started to feel gutted. The crowd was now chanting ‘Aero-smith’ & ‘one-more-song’, but the lights were still out. Some of the crowd had started to walk away. Just as I was starting to lose hope of them coming back, the lights came back on and my husband leaned in with “He’s got his Piano!”, it was then I just knew it was going to be Dream On. Needless to say, I was a wreck for this song. They finished up with Walk This Way, and the crowd was jumping. I was singing along, fist in the air and not a care in the world. When they finished it was quite late and the crowds going back to the bus were huge. We were completely crammed and bottle knecked at the security gates, and you know what? Not a single f*%£ given once again. I was completely elated from what had been an awesome weekend and an utterly outstanding performance from my favourite band.


I have faced many of my fears this weekend, all in the name of music. As some will know, if you know me in person or have read my earlier blogs, music is my vice. I use it as a coping tool, and it really does work. There is nothing like getting lost in the moment of a song, or being taken back to a happy time/moment with the nostalgia due to a song that you’re listening to. So far this weekend I have:

  • Driven for 6 hours, over 300 miles, away from my comfort zone
  • Stood in multiple queues
  • Felt at ease in large crowds – biggest being 300,000 people. Say what now?
  • Drank beer out of a plastic cup I know wasn’t put through a dishwasher and one I’ve not been able to rinse 3 times. I also got a fly in my drink, used my finger to fish it out, and carried on. Yup, one badass mofo up in here.
  • I have eaten food from a stall, that I’m sure probably wasn’t up to my unrealistic standards, given it was in the middle of a field. Not only this, I tried Ostrich!

Nothing can/will ever top being able to see my favourite band for the first time, on their final tour within an amazing atmosphere. I am so very glad I didn’t give into my initial flight response, and that I stayed. Had I gone back to the hotel, I would hate myself right now. I have achieved so much and I have had the best weekend of my life. We’re now debating taking the kids, not next year as we have a holiday booked, but the year after. I have had such a good time, that I’m dying for my kids to experience it.

If you’re like me, and the thought of doing something like this fills you with dread, I say this; Do it anyway! Just push on through your stomach doing summersaults and keep going until you realise that you’re OK and you can enjoy yourself.


They don’t deserve our attention, and definitely not our fear!

Today is the day after the second London terror attack in less than 3 months. We’re not even 2 weeks from the Manchester attacks. Having this happen makes me realise how utterly trivial my anxiety disorder is, and that there are bigger issues going on the world to be worried about. Knowing this will not stop me from worrying relentlessly about social situations or my health, but it does give a lot of food for thought.

I have watched all the news correspondence and read the articles with regards to last night, and my heart is breaking for those affected by this latest cowardly attack. I also feel very angry to think that there are people out there, so incredibly warped, to think that taking lives is a means to an end. This is a horrible game of tit-for-tat that we, the general population, are paying the price for. The sister of Salman Abedi (Manchester bomber), said he wanted the UK to know what it was like to have innocent children blown up, so we’d know what Syria are going through. This is the level of mentality we’re working with here. The reasoning behind both attacks in London is unclear, although we can be sure that every attack on us, is directly related to our involvement in Syria. Why are we even involved in the war in Syria in the first place? I’m yet to actually hear a conclusive and honest answer to that question. The decisions that are made, with regards to our military and the bombs that are dropped, are not made by us, they are made by our government. Killing us doesn’t make them pay, they don’t care. Do these extremists’ honestly think that Theresa May will lose a single ounce of sleep tonight, as she hangs upside down in her cave? No! Why? Because her security team will always make sure she’s ok. We, the public, do NOT agree with what is happening in Syria. I for one, cannot even bring myself to watch any of the new correspondence from there any more, as it just breaks my heart. I also believe that we should be taking in every single Syrian refugee that comes to our borders, as they wouldn’t be in this situation without our shitty governments help. These extremists’ attempts are in vain, but this will not stop them. They’re out to make a point and instil fear, and really, for someone like me who’s already fearful, it’s working.

So here I am, worried about what might happen. Worried for my children, and the places they go. I’ve already asked them to avoid places that might be crowded, for example, there is a wee music festival taking place just down the road from where I live, and I’ve asked that when they’re out today, can they please avoid this at all costs. Now, even as I type this I feel ridiculous. Am I just instilling the fear into them, am I creating unnecessary worry for them, but then what if I don’t, what if I just let them go and do their thing and something was to happen? Would I ever forgive myself? Definitely not.

This time next week I’ll be at the Download Music Festival . This was something I was already worried about, as it’s putting me into a situation where I’ll be 300miles away from my comfort zone, I’ll be in large crowds, it will be sensory overload, but you know what, I was more than prepared to push through all of these factors, for the love I have for the bands I’m going to see. Now, given what has happened recently, I’m now worried about a potential terrorist attack. I’m worried that because it’s in Leicester and because it’s a particularly large gathering, that it may well be a target.  My eldest asked me today if I was still going, as he was worried because it was in England. Now I’m sure that not just England will be a target, I’m sure these extremists are plotting all over, but given recent events we cannot be blamed for being concerned. My mind already races constantly about all the things that could kill me from day to day, but now I have something more real, more tangible to be concerned about. Even as I type this blog, my palms are sweating and my heart is racing. I have worried myself to the point of actually feeling sick, and even considering selling my tickets. The tickets that have been bought for over 8months, for an event that I’ve been so excited about, more excited than anything else ever in my life, and I was about to just up and sell my chance to see Aerosmith on their farewell tour. This was, until I spoke with friends and my sister, who said:

You really want to willingly give up seeing Steve Tyler for those f******?!? I thought you were made of tougher stuff. Just keep thinking ….Steve Tyler!!
Isis today called for “all out war won the west” asking for attacks on ‘infidels’ in the streets, and in their homes. so to be fair, homes aren’t safe if they keep it up…you have to live your life…live it!

My sister, the voice of reason, as always. If we’re not even safe in our own homes, what is the point? What is the point in staying at home being fearful to live our lives, when they will seek out to do harm just about anywhere?

Also, a friend of mine on Facebook today said something very poignant;

I am a great believer that terrorism, as stated only exists because people believe it does. what is happening is dreadful, but the media make it powerful. I was brought up with the IRA, Badder Meinhof, Red Brigade, ETA, Chinese Red Brigade. [This] was a weekly occurrence, but was inevitably ignored from the news and they all disappeared.  It is a state of fear that I will not have any part of. Sorry, bit of a rant. And I am not afraid.

At first, I found myself thinking, “Well surely not watching it, and not keeping up to date, is just burying our heads in the sand? What good is that?”. Then, I’ve found myself realising that this could just be right. If we don’t feed the fear, and fuel the fire, perhaps they will stop, if the exposure they’re looking for, is not achieved.

So, given all I’ve said, what do I do? Do I give into my fear and stay home, where I think I will be safe? Or, do I choose to not let these cowardly extremists take more from me, than I already take from myself, and go for what will be an awesome weekend? Given everything, I believe it will have to be the latter. I will continue to be scared right up until the point of heading off on my long drive, I will no doubt be a wreck when standing in the large crowd/queue to get in, and even once there I will no doubt be extra vigilant, but you know what? I’ve already missed out on so much, due to being scared, and this festival is everything to me. I love music, as I’m sure all of you reading this can relate, but what is sad for me, is I’ve never seen a band I love live. I usually sit in the comfort of my own home at watch them on Sky Arts.

I’ve concluded that I’m already fearful enough. I already have enough day-to-day worries about everyone and everything, and I refuse to let these terrorists/extremists be added to it. I will look to not tune into the news, I will choose to be someone who will not add fuel to the fire, or give them the exposure they’re looking for. If you suffer from anxiety, and you too have found your anxiety has heightened due to the recent attacks, I hope you join me in not letting this be another matter to consume your daily life. I’m not suggesting it will be easy, I am still feeling the fear in the pit of my stomach. Speaking to my sister and my friends has not just been some magic wand that has made my initial fear of this entire situation go, but it has given me some much needed perspective and a way to tackle moving forward.