Getting me back.

So tomorrow is the 8th March. The date that’s been on everyone’s lips for a fair while now. The day all children come back to school. Regardless of my anxiety over Covid, I’m actually really looking forward to having my class back in front of me and just getting on with my job. The worry though, is that I won’t just be getting on with my job, because we’ve become obsessed with children now being somehow damaged and so far behind that they’ll be scarred for life. We underestimate children and young people! They are far, far more resilient that we give them credit for. Now don’t get me wrong, there are children who will have had a horrendous time at home. There are children who won’t have done any learning during this time. And there are those who will find this transition a challenging one. Don’t for a second think I’m saying that we shouldn’t recognise all of this and support these children. But there are many, many children who will be just fine. In fact, I predict that the majority will be ok, because they’ve been at home with parents or carers who have done their absolute best. My worry is that we will get so caught up assessing how far behind children are, that we’ll lose sight of what’s important and we’ll push more teachers (and maybe children) to the brink. Say we assess these kids and find they are behind, what difference does it make to our approach? As teachers we’ll still meet them where they’re at and we’ll still teach them to the best of our ability. That’s what we do.

Anyway, that’s my view on it all. On a personal note, the past few weeks have been an insane struggle. I flit between thinking ‘f**k it, I’m doing my best and that’ll have to be enough’ and then totally freaking out because, well, my best doesn’t feel like enough. I’ve had a couple of very dark days. It’s hard to know if it is my job or me, or perhaps a combination of the two. On the day that I was fantasing about having a car accident, just so I could stop everything, I realised that I wasn’t ok. I’d tried to tell a few people I wasn’t ok but the problem is that quite a lot of people are in the same place right now. Plus, I’m quite often not ok these days and I suspect it gets boring for those around me. So I called my doctor the next day and asked for help. She immediately tried to sign me off, which I flatly refused at that point, but talking things through without feeling guilty for burdening someone did help. I don’t know what the next step is for me but I’m talking to her again next week and I’ll go from there.

In the meantime, my strategy is this: Put me first (well kind of – as much as I can). I have to go back to prioritising running, lifting weights, horses, fun, friends, walks, bonfires, star gazing, reading, sleeping and all the other things that make me feel good. I have to do it or I will go under. This is a fact. I’m trying hard to change my mindset but my mood varies enormously from day to day. I suspect that might be to do with being a woman of a certain age, but I’ll save that discussion for another time. I have some bloomin wonderful people in my life, who lift me so well, so I kind of owe it to them to get the old me back, so that I can be a fun person to be around.

So that’s my mission, to get me back. The real me. Not the stressed, tired, grumpy me, who cries all the time and wakes in the night thinking she’s having a heart attack. I may not have picked the best week to decide this, but honestly, it can’t wait. I can’t wait.

The parts of lockdown I want to hang on to.

I’ve ummed and ahhhed about whether to stop this blog. I’m not too sure what purpose it serves or who it’s for. So I’m going to have a go at writing just for me and see how we go.

As we ease out of lockdown I’ve started to really think about the things I want to continue. I’ve actually felt pretty anxious about coming out the other side of it, not just because I’m unsure about whether we’re ready, but also because when you have no option but to be at home, there’s no pressure to do anything. I’m lucky that my little isolated bubble felt safe. Sure, I missed people but actually there is a lot I didn’t miss.

So I’ve compiled a list, because I love a list. This is a list of the positive things to come out of lockdown, the things to hang on to.

Family meals. Sitting together around the table or in the garden, for lunch and dinner every day.
Conversations with my husband. Having the time to stay up and talk to each other.
Not always having loads planned in each day.
Fires in the evening…even on weekdays.
Every day including good things, not just the weekdays.
Sitting in the garden.
Reading.
Exploring the countryside on walks.
Walking and cycling – only driving if necessary.
Keeping in touch with family and friends but not having to have a ridiculously busy social life.
Realising what I’m passionate about – horses (amongst other things) and realising what I still can’t stand (cleaning and housework).
Realising my flaws and accepting I need to change to be a better person.
Slowing down, having the time to breathe and think.

This is my personal list and I’ve learnt a lot about myself over the past few months. But I think that we all have to see this as an opportunity to change. A warning actually, that we must change. That the planet needs us to live our lives differently and stand up for what is right. I don’t want to go back to life before all of this, I want to seize the opportunity to make things better!

Resilience Part 2

landscape photography green grass field beside dark foggy forest during golden hour — Photo by Ivars on Pexels.com

Unfortunately it didn’t take long before I started to crumble. That’s the thing with my job, you think you’re tough enough, but if like me, you’re actually not, it can send you spiralling. Fortunately I can say this now because I’ve saved myself. The great thing is that it is my daily exercise for RED January and Mind that has been my saviour.

The week started well with a productive Monday and good gym session but on Tuesday I woke up with disgusting red patches all over my chin. Impetigo. It’s an occupational hazard. I’m the master of catching disgusting skin conditions and this was not my first impetigo rodeo. But it was incredibly poor timing. So I had to adapt many of my plans and once again think about vain I actually am. I hated facing anyone with my face looking so gross and just wanted to hibernate. On Wednesday I did. I didn’t go to work as it’s incredibly contagious and that’s what I was advised to do. By Wednesday evening I was feeling enormously guilty and it became clear that I was expected to be at work. For someone like me this causes enormous anxiety. I hate missing work and the feeling that people might be cross with me was too much and I struggled to sleep.

So on Thursday I went to work with raging PMT, a disgusting crusty red face and very little sleep. It took one person to ask how I was and comment that I looked tired before I cried. I unravel quite quickly and hate that I often show how close to the edge I am. I spent the day hating my job and feeling shaky.

However, by Friday I was starting to care less about my face and was reminded why I do absolutely love my job. We had Art Day all day and I had the most wonderful, relaxing day with my class, who were just awesome. As I ran the Daily Mile with my class, one little boy, who always hold my hand commented that he knew why I was running so slowly. I looked down at my boots and smiled, “Ahh is it because I’m not wearing my trainers today?” I asked. He looked puzzled and replied, “No, it’s because you’re really old!” He couldn’t understand why I laughed out loud but looked very pleased with the reaction he got. Kids are brilliant.

All week I’ve continued with my daily activity. I’m pretty active anyway, but this has been really good for those days when I’m stuck in the classroom and get home late. Having to do something active, even if it’s just a dog walk round the block in the dark, has been a massive de-stressor. Today’s run in the beautiful winter sun after a frosty morning dog walk has really lifted me and I feel (just about) ready to take on the week ahead.

So, resilience….I don’t have enough yet, but I reckon that staying active is the key to a healthy mind, so I’m feeling optimistic

Are we obsessed with self-improvement?

I know I am! I mean really obsessed. I buy self-help books all the time. I read articles about how to be a better mother, better teacher, better wife, better friend, fitter, healthier, how to be a better human being…

But the thing is that I read half a self-help book and then move onto the next one when my life is not immediately wonderful and transformed. I read these articles and instantly feel that I’m a failure as a parent/wife/teacher etc. At a time when we are talking more and more about mental health and there seems to be somewhat of a mental health crisis, I wonder whether this is part of the problem. Those of us that are this way inclined constantly feel inadequate and dissatisfied, like we need to be improved. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a great believer in pushing yourself to be your best and always striving for more. However, I wonder whether we’ve become obsessed with self-improvement to the point that it makes a lot of us feel pretty crappy and useless. I wonder whether sometimes we just need to sit back, take stock and look at what we are good at, or how far we’ve come!

I went to the gym today and after a few weeks of following a programme, I decided to start a new one. This one, I thought, is going to be better. This is the one that is going to change my life. I do this all the time. It’s ridiculous. After doing a few reverse lunges (which I hate), I realised that actually if I just stuck to one thing and saw it through and remained consistent, then I might start to see the results I want.

My latest obsessions have been changing my hair and changing my clothes. I mean if I just looked better then all would be ok, right?! So I’m giving myself a talking to. I’ll always be someone who has to have a plan or some way that I’m working on being better. It’s just who I am. But I really need to also not let these plans take away from the things I’m doing alright at.

And actually the single most important thing I could do for myself and those around me, is the one thing I haven’t improved at – it’s putting down my damn phone. But I’ll save that conversation for another day…

Keeping my head above water.

sea water blue sun — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Most days I feel like I’m drowning. Drowning in work, kids clubs, packed lunches, to-do lists, chores, more work and so on. Even just now as I just sat down to write this, I checked my work emails just in case I’ve missed something important. I went through them yesterday morning (yesterday was Sunday) so there shouldn’t be much. I had 8 new ones, most of which require some sort of action from me. My heart is doing it’s familiar race. Last year when the chest pain and heart palpitations started I thought I was having a heart attack or that there was something really wrong with me but now I’ve come to expect it. The doctor says it’s anxiety. I know the horrible feeling I get as I open my work emails. The racing heart is familiar to me now and although it annoys me, it no longer scares me when it happens. Of course it should! It really, really should! It is my body going into panic mode over and over again. It shows how often I am seriously stressed and over a longer period of time this will start to do damage. Long term stress increases your risk of heart disease and stroke. It causes chronic inflammation and in women it can cause menopausal symptoms (yep – I can vouch for that one – ugh!). Another scary one that I didn’t know, is that it can increase your chance of developing Alzheimer’s!

I thought it was just me that felt this way and that it happened to me because I am particularly useless at keeping on top of life. But over the past few months, after talking to various people I have come to realise that a large percentage of people live life like this. I thought I was the only one who feels like I’m constantly struggling to keep my head above water, always about to drown. But I’m not. In a way this reassures me because I’m not alone in my struggle to stay on top of everything. I’m not totally useless compared to others. But in a way it really worries and depresses me that this is becoming the norm. I’m watching friends, who I love dearly go through similar struggles and I don’t know how to help them because I have no idea how to help myself.

I’m reading Dr Chatterjee’s ‘The Stress Solution’ and read his first book ‘The Four Pillar Plan’ and it certainly makes a lot of sense. I’m trying hard to use some of the strategies he talks about and some days it helps. The problem I have is that I manage this on the days I’m not at work and on the days I am at work it just all goes out the window. Yes, a morning meditation and routine is a great idea, but on the days I’m dashing to get to work as early as possible to try to stay on top of my increasing workload, it just doesn’t happen. I’m also so utterly exhausted every second of every day at the moment that I feel like I have nothing left for anything else.

My mum sent me an article the other day about how teachers will be encouraged to job share in the future, as the workload gets too much to manage when you’re working full time. I’m supposed to still be part-time. I can honestly say I have no idea how anyone does this job full time anymore. Not a clue. How ridiculous that the workload in a profession gets so much that it’s no longer possible to do it full time!

This blog wasn’t meant to be all doom and gloom! It really wasn’t! It’s actually me trying to set myself some goals and a plan. It was also for anyone else who feels like they are the only one struggling to be good at their job, at being a parent, at keeping their house clean (man I’m shit at this one), at being a good wife/husband, being a good friend/family member and all of the other things that we try to juggle.

Someone told me recently that they didn’t know anyone who spent as much time as me trying to improve themselves. I took it as a compliment but I don’t actually think it was meant as one. I think sometimes we need to cut ourselves some slack and accept that we will drop the ball sometimes. It probably isn’t possible to succeed at everything all the time. But I am going to try some different strategies to see if it is possible to stop the constant feeling of panic. I’m also going to look at why so many of us feel as useless as we do (and I truly believe social media plays a massive part in this). I’ll be totally honest here – the number one cause of my stress is my job. I love teaching but I cannot articulate how stressful I find my job and the workload … and that is a nationwide problem, that is not just me. I can’t solve this one but I can try out some different steps to see if I can improve things.

So the plan for this week is as follows:

Go back to keeping a quick diary. Just jotting down the highs and lows of each day to try to get things out of my head.
Make a schedule and stick to it. Block out time to do things. If I plan to exercise then do it. If I plan to stop working at a certain time then I stop at that time. No. Matter. What.
This one’s for the teachers – marking with the children. Try to mark during lessons with the children as much as possible. Verbal feedback is far more valuable anyway and this reduces mountains of books to mark at the end of the day…hopefully!
Eat the rainbow, or alphabet or whatever. Just eat a shed load of different types of fruit and veg. I’m really interested to see how an improved diet improves stress and energy levels.
Finally, take digital holidays. Have a day a week with no social media and if possible, no phone at all. Limit checking my phone to 4 times a day (no idea how I actually train myself to do this). The amount of time wasted looking at my phone is insane!

So that’s it folks, I’m hoping that by the end of this week I’ll be totally zen. Seriously though, none of the above is rocket science and yet when we get stressed, we stuff our faces with junk food and lose ourselves in social media (oh, or is that just me?!) and it makes us feel like shit. I’m a woman on a mission because, well, I do love a mission.

Why weekends aren’t as great as they should be.

Every Friday night I have this overwhelming sense of relief. I’ve made it through another tough week of teaching, parenting and trying to fit in some workouts. Every Friday I feel optimistic – I’m going to get up and walk the dog, run, go to the gym, get jobs done, clean my house, spend some precious time with my family, sort the garden out, do some DIY, catch up with friends, read, help the kids with their homework, prep the week’s meals…..and on and on and on. Every Friday night I drink. I drink the week away and I drink because woohoo, it’s the weekend!

Then Saturday morning hits me like a slap in the face. Friday night’s euphoria a distant memory and utter exhaustion sets in. During the week I run on adrenaline and caffeine but when I reach the weekend I just grind to a halt. In the cold light of day the DIY seems less appealing and actually I’m pretty knackered so would rather not go for a run, or a dog walk or do anything much. I catch sight of myself in the mirror. When did I start looking so old and worn down? I beat myself up for letting myself go. I snap at the kids who argue constantly. I let them watch too much TV because I want peace and quiet but then I beat myself up for being such a boring and useless mother. I spend ages scrolling on Facebook and Instagram, wondering where other people find the energy to get out and have fun. I beat myself up again for wasting time looking at my phone. My house is a dump, it’s disgusting and I feel overwhelmed so I sit and do nothing. I beat myself up again for being lazy and useless. At least during the week I barely have time to breathe, let alone notice what a mess my house is.

Then Saturday night finally comes around. Woohoo Saturday night! I’m not actually going anywhere but it’s Saturday night so I’ll drink some wine. Sunday is going to be the day I get all my shit done. Sunday I am going to sort my life out. The funny thing is that I’m still knackered on Sunday. I wonder why, I mean it’s the second day of the weekend, I should be fully rejuvenated by now right?! I’m slow to get going. I’m still grumpy but I don’t really know why. I can’t focus my attention to any task so I pretty much do nothing. Panic starts to set in. It’s Sunday and I still haven’t cleaned my house, spent quality time with my family, prepped the week’s meals, made my face look alive and youthful and on and on and on.

I’ve written a plan for next week. I do it every Sunday. I can’t actually fit everything into my week. I never can. My plan fills me with anxiety. It always does.

I’ve not written this to be a miserable cow (although that is what I am at the moment). I’ve written it for anyone else who just hangs on in there through the week, only to find the weekend a struggle too. I’ve written it because posting pics of workouts and dog walks and my gorgeous girls, make it look like my weekends are all sunshine and rainbows. They are not. It’s not because I don’t love my family, or want to get things done. It’s because I have a job that takes everything I have and leaves me with very little energy for anyone or anything else. I don’t know what the solution is (cutting back on the wine is a good start I know) but I’m pretty stubborn and I’m going to find one….

Topshop bras

On Friday night my friends turned up at my house dressed as me. It was the day before my birthday and they showed up wearing running gear and had socks shoved down their bras to represent my ample bosom. They then proceeded to carry out stretches in my front room, heaving bosoms and all, which was very entertaining.

Anyway, as they all chest bumped me (yes they did that!) with their big knockers, it reminded me that I was going to write a blog on having big boobies…

When I was a teenager all my friends bought Topshop bras. You know those pretty, lacy ones with spaghetti straps. The type I have never worn and never will. Boy how I longed to buy a Topshop bra. Anyone else over a C -cup will understand my longing. Whilst my friends had pretty bras that fitted neatly under vest tops and dresses, I had to buy ones that had straps 2 inches wide to hoist up my breasts.

At school I remember one lovely boy who used to shout ‘jugs’ at me every time he saw me. I soon learnt that if I rounded my shoulders and wore baggy clothes, I could conceal them better. I’ve stopped wearing the baggy jumpers but the bad posture remains.

On a summer night out this year, a good friend of mine and I wore little dresses. It was warm and this seemed the thing to do. She, like me, has boobs that enter the room before she does. She and I compared the scaffolding under our dresses, both of us having to take extreme measures to ensure there was no risk of tits escaping. It’s actually quite ridiculous the measures we’d had to take to avoid anyone copping an eyeful and despite these extreme measures, we still both stood awkwardly adjusting ourselves.

The other thing about these humungous bras that we have to wear, is that they cost a small fortune. Only a select few shops sell bras in my size and if I want a bikini, that’s even trickier! In fact, this summer whilst playing bat and ball on the beach with my daughter, I realised (to my horror) that my nipple was not entirely contained in my bikini top! Instead of enjoying a game with my daughter, I self-consciously squished my boobs back into place after every shot. Quite frankly, it’s a pain in the arse.

My final moan about big breasts is the difficulty with breastfeeding (which thankfully I’ll never have to do again). I remember a lovely lady at the hospital telling me to just ‘pop’ Eva onto my breast. What I actually needed to do was heave my giant boob out of it’s granny bra and then try to ensure it didn’t smother my tiny, new born baby.

Now I’ve got all of that off my (rather large) chest, I will acknowledge that my breasts fed two babies and aren’t yet touching my knees (I mean unless I bend forwards) so I do appreciate them.

Seriously though, I know I’ve been lucky and I am grateful that they are (so far) healthy boobies and really that’s the most important thing. So until I’ve designed a way of donating chest blubber to those crazy friends who want bigger breasts, I’ll continue to strap mine down with two sports bras and appreciate mine…