Altruism or, I am not crazy (honest).

I believe in giving. Not just at Christmas or on Birthdays, but always. Always giving. I also believe that help is help and it is as simple as that, and I want to be remembered for being a helpful, kind and giving person.

This ranges from helping clients at work, swapping the odd shift to help a colleague out, loaning money to family members when they are short at the end of the month and simply smiling at people, because they don't deserve to be subjected to my miserable face.

I also know when I need help, I expect help, and I probably shouldn't. After all the gift of giving is free. We freely give to others and shouldn't expect anything in return.

So when my crazy comes, as it did like a freight train with the last full moon, I know it will lift and just have to mosey on through it as best as I can.

But when it doesn't lift and it starts to become a little bit scary, I begin to need help.

In the past, my parents (my dad) has always found a way to lift me out of these crazies. Ususally at detriment to himself. But he is my dad and he will always give to me, whatever it costs.

Now, being married, the onus of this falls on my husband and I really don't think he knows or understands just how big a responsibility he has being married to me. When I get to the point that I am at now, it quickly spirals downwards into a hellish sort of nightmare and I need him to pull me out. But he never ever does.

He thinks my behaviour at this time is a choice. That if I didn't want to feel this way, I simply wouldn't feel this way. He has zero understanding that I CANNOT lift myself up and out of this hole, that he needs to reach down and pull me up and that what he sees while he is reaching for me, may well cost him something of himself.

Just like it cost me to become his wife.

It's in these times that regular feelings are intensified, so worry becomes an actual demon in my head and I swiftly become panicked, alarmed and at times, hysterical. So when he comes home two hours late without so much as a text to let me know he will be late, and is not lying in several pieces on the motorway, I can't be relieved, I can't be happy or content or anything positive because as far as I am concerned, he let me get like that on purpose.

He doesn't care.*

Something as small as that turns into a fight that lasts for days and then before I know it I'm exhausted from trying to claw my way out of this hole and I really don't care if I stay in it anymore.

But he really dislikes that version of me, the lifeless listless version of me that doesn't care, starts taking risks and doing stupid things to test my limitations. The version of me with such complete opposite behaviourisms that I'm quite literally a different person.

I feel like it's only the badness in me that is allowed to walk freely from the crazy and that if I want the goodness to be released I have to sacrifice something. I have to sacrifice part of me. It's like playing marbles with the school bully. You know you'll come away with less and you have no choice but to play. In the past I sacrificed my sewing, which is why it's painfully difficult for me to even be attempting to sew now, 4 years later.

I want to be normal. I want my husband to want to help me.

*This is an unfair statement as he does care about me, it just feels as though he doesn't when I have the worry demon in my head.

'When is it your turn?'

I recently read a great article by a lady who doesn't want kids and is sick of being asked when she is going to reproduce. There were parts of that post that really pulled at some heart strings for me and I'm sure for other people. Even though the author's situation was the complete opposite of what I want, she also managed to understand other women's situations, something a lot of people don't think about.

Sometime last year I was out for dinner with some 'friends' and some of the group bought their newborn baby with them. If I'd known they were going to the meal, I would have made my excuses as I knew what was coming. Endless questions of 'when is it your turn?' 'are you broody?' 'when are you two having kids?' thrown at me from all directions. For someone who had, at the time already been trying for a baby for around a year with no luck these questions were a stab in the heart and actually made me cry, which I luckily managed to do with no one noticing! None of these people knew our situation so I suppose you could let them off but as the original article says you really should think before you speak.

When people ask you about your reproduction plans how do they know that person hasn't miscarried last week? It's not something you would tell everyone. How do they know they haven't just been told they can't have kids or have already been trying for years? They don't and it's more than a little ignorant to not think about a person's possible situation before they speak. If there is a couple sat in front of you who have been together 5 years and have no kids, why could this be?! Why do they not have kids? The easy answer is maybe they just aren't ready or haven't even thought about kids or they simply don't want any. But with 1 in 7 couples in the UK having fertility issues there is a very real possibility that the person sat in front of you is probably dreading the question of kids coming up.

We have kept our struggle private from everyone that is not close to us as for one it's no one else's business and the last thing I need is comments like "aren't you pregnant yet?" from ill informed, insensitive people. But I do sometimes wonder if it would be easier if people knew and then maybe they would not keep asking about our plans for children. Then again, knowing these types of people, they would probably ask even more!

I quote from the original article...
"It is time for those who view it as socially appropriate to make comments or jokes about a woman’s plans for child-bearing to understand that it’s not okay. It is also not okay to ask when she’s going to have kids or her reasons why she’s choosing not to. I don’t care who you are — unless you are my husband, doctor, or my best friend of fourteen years, do not ask me or make jokes about my pregnancy status. Or lack thereof. It’s not funny, cute, or kind. In fact, it’s the exact opposite, and depending on whatever my circumstances might be that you likely don’t know about it could be absolutely devastating."

Never a truer word spoken. It's a shame people can't keep their big nosy noses out of other people's business. If you want kids, have them yourself and stop discussing my ovarian activity!

Goodbye office

As a creative person, I think good inspiration is essential in order to achieve good work.

I get a lot of inspiration from other people and the internet, but when you're surrounded by the same people, views and objects every day, life can get stifling. And you'll start to feel constricted. I did, anyway...

The phone constantly rings and you're surrounded by either an awkward silence or a loud and distracting conversation. It just isn't an environment I enjoy, especially as a writer, who likes to feel immersed in her work.

Distractions are various specimen of livestock laying on the tracks of your train of thought.

White walls and blank pages both stress me out immensely, where is the inspiration in that? All you can focus on is the ticking of the clock. And sure enough, I go crazy and can't focus.

Staring at a computer is just as bad.

Leave the computer and stop breathing in the stale air. It works wonders.

This is why I love being freelance. Aside from short, pre-planned meetings that work around me, I can work from anywhere with a power socket. Once you've tasted this freedom, it's so hard to go back.

Creatives aren't supposed to be imprisoned like that. And I have never had such great feedback on my work since.

I'm a carer

I'm a carer. When people ask me what I do and I tell them, they either assume I spend all day drinking tea with old dears or they think I spend all day performing personal care (I'm putting that politely, because nothing infuriates me more than when people groan "eeeew not cleaning shitty bums all day!! How gross!!")

How ignorant. 

I'm a carer. My job does involve performing personal care for individuals who are no longer able to, I help them wash their backs because they can't reach, I help them clean their teeth and put their clothes on. I make them cups of tea and ensure they can drink it safely and comfortably, even the ones who can no longer get out of bed. I help them turn over, so they don't get sore or any more achy than they already are. 

As part of a team in a private company, we have to maintain a high level of professionalism and continuously exceptional standard of care. We aren't allowed to call our clients pet names or colloquial terms. We aren't allowed to be overly affectionate to any of them. We have to be mindful that these ladies and gentlemen are older than us and therefore should be fully respected for their seniority, vast life experience and their current state of health should not alter that.

But I didn't know your mum or your dad when they were raising you. I didn't know them even before that, when they were courting. I didn't know your grandma before she had Alzheimer's. I know very little about their past because it is my duty to ensure their present is so full of goodness and happiness and unicorns and rainbows. I will always endeavour to provide each and every one of my clients with the best care, and that's where the problem lies.

I looked after a gentleman for the last 18 months of his life. We'll call him Jake for the purpose of this blog as confidentiality is vitally important in the care setting. Jake was extraordinary. I knew nothing of his past other than his wife's name and that he was a butcher and enjoyed a good steak. 

I loved him with my whole heart (not professional. At all).

Every day I would walk into work and he would greet me with the biggest smile, like I was an old friend and he had an inside joke to share. He would laugh and joke with me (I never understood the half of it) and I would laugh and smile and feel so at home with this lovely man. 

He would get so frustrated with his family. I never understood what had gone off and it wasn't my business. But Jake would cry after his family left, and I'd be the one to soothe him with kind words and an arm around his shoulder, perching precariously on the arm of a chair. 

The last time I saw Jake was shortly before 2pm on a Monday afternoon. I was having to leave halfway through my 14 hour shift as I was poorly and he had been put into bed as he was not well at all. 

I told him to get well soon and that I loved him very much. He smiled and said "I love you too" like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He passed away an hour before I re-entered the building a week later and I have never in my life cried so much for a practical stranger. 

This isn't professionalism. We aren't allowed to cry, or love out clients like they're our own family. We certainly aren't allowed to tell them we love them. 

But how can I be expected to care for these people without developing those natural familial reactions and feelings. 

Yes, these are your mums and dads and you knew them in that capacity. And despite me being young enough to be their grandchild, I'm the one in the maternal position. The psychology of it reverses the "normal" or expected age relationship. The hierarchy changes.

So please, when you see your mother being cared for by someone young enough to be your daughter, and cringe at the use of a pet name, or the hand holding or the little cuddles, or the patronising tone of voice we use (I hate it too but sometimes it's all we have), please remember that it comes from a place of good, a place of care and comfort and love.

And that everyday that we do that job it costs us. Every time I lose a client, it takes part of me, losing Jake cost me such a large part of myself that I've barely functioned since (it was a month ago now).

We can't give those exceptional levels of care and meet the required levels of professionalism expected of us because they don't go hand in hand. It's such a contradiction. We give good care because we care so much.

Also, on a final note, these elderly ladies and men are often confused, and the first feeling they have every morning is fear. They are scared. Put yourself in their shoes. Sometimes when I'm scared all I want is a cuddle and a reassuring word. Most of the time they just need their hand to be held. They need to know they are not alone and that we are their friends and sometimes the only familiar face they see now. They make us their family. 

 

Heather : Currently Loving

| Ombre Nails | Mid length hair | Glitter dipped feathers | Sparkly eyes | Spiced Apple | Chunky knits |

Both sides of the interview table

I've been interviewed a good handful of times since leaving University, 3 have been in the past 7 months, so the process is quite fresh in my head!

Each interview has been a relatively scary experience, despite usually being described as 'casual' in the prior correspondence emails.

Regardless of location; private meeting room, a corner of a huge office or at your local Starbucks, there is that pressure of not only hiding your nerves but showing your skill-set without coming across as arrogant. I have added pressures of hiding my tattoos and my tendency to sweat heavily in the spotlight.

This week, for the first time ever, I was on the panel of interviewers and got to meet a trio of wonderful interviewees. I think it's always incredibly eye-opening to be sat the other side of the table, for a number of situations in life, but this one in particular was surprisingly nerve wracking...

You hold the key to the door that gives them access to a better life. A door that helps them financially, in confidence growth and one that builds their career. I have been on that side of the table many times and I know how equally difficult it is to demonstrate everything you know/can bring to their company, in a matter of minutes.

I always thought of the interviewer as 'the one who is holding out the key and seeing how high I will jump for it'. When in reality, it's just as difficult to decide who is the best fit from that short meeting. My whole outlook on the process has now changed and I learned I'd be horrifically bad at speed dating, haha.

I'm engaged!

Much to my surprise on Christmas Day my other half proposed to me. I was more than a little shocked. The morning started like a normal Christmas morning, it was our puppy's first Christmas so we let him open all his presents and then we opened ours. I was expecting perfume which I got but I wasn't expecting what was underneath the perfume! He had wrapped a shoe box in christmas paper and inside was my present in a perfume gift box. I was more than happy to get my favourite perfume so I took it out of the box and underneath it said 'Will you marry me?' I cried and even he cried. In almost 6 years thats the second time I've seen him cry. There was no ring but I wasn't bothered, I was finally engaged! I got my ring a week later by the way...



So here starts the wedding planning. The average wedding costs £20,000, unless your name is Heather Louise. There is no way in hell I will be spending such a ridiculous amount on a one day celebration so my plan is to have a lovely, small wedding for as cheap as possible. My wedding has been planned on Pinterest and in my head for quite a while so all that is to do is book a venue and get creative...and the all important dress shopping. I will be DIYing a lot of things. Flowers, decor, invites, make up, jewellery & hair accessories are all on my DIY list. I am an avid reader of wedding blogs and the ones that catch my eye the most are the ones the couple have done themselves, it adds a more personal touch. My plan at the moment is a coral, mint and gold music themed wedding. I have liked this colour scheme for a while but decided to confuse myself and look at others on Pinterest and also liked the idea of midnight blue and fuchsia. Coral is pretty hard to match with there being so many shades so I'm exploring other ideas.

I will be posting more wedding related posts as I get more into it with plenty of budget wedding tips for much-less-than-£20,000-wedding and some DIY tutorials!