This post is for everyone who might be finding looking for a job amidst the pandemic even more painful, demotivating and soul destroying than it normally is.
Rejection after rejection can make you question yourself, your abilities, your self worth and that’s when you need to remind yourself of all your achievements and what you’ve done so far. I’m quite confident myself especially when it comes to my professional experience and knowledge and I still doubt myself when I can’t find a job. So…
This is me
I speak English and Greek fluently, I guess you can say I’m bilingual as after 11 years speaking mostly in English has caused my brain to think in English first. I also speak a bit of Italian and Spanish.
I have a LOT of qualifications (BA in Psychology, MSc Research Methods in Psychology, Qualification in Occupational Psychology, Occupational Testing, PRINCE2 Foundation and Practitioner, Online marketing fundamentals, CELTA) and during my 12 year work experience so far I accumulated a number of skills and knowledge in varied areas e.g. data analysis, reporting, event planning, research, promotional campaigns, teaching English etc.
I also volunteered for charities and in my free time I write (on this very blog as well as my travel blog I recently started kopiastekopiaste.wordpress.com), I love photography, making videos and I know a bit about digital marketing.
It helps to remind myself how far I’ve come and noone and nothing can take away my skills, knowledge and achievements from me.Comparing myself to others can only make me feel worse, we don’t all have the same opportunities, financial support and flexibility. I did the best I could with what I had and I continue to do so.
I’d also like to think that the right job will come at the right time and everything will just work out. Whatever I end up doing next, it might not be what I’m looking for, but I’m sure I’ll learn from it as much as possible. I may have to wait a little longer than I thought though and that’s OK.
I’m still the same capable, confident, knowledgeable individual.
If anyone’s interested in hiring me I can conduct research, occupational testing, create content, write articles, translate, manage social media accounts, teach English and above all help others. I’d love to work for the UN one day!
If this post helps even one person who’s in a similar position, I’ll be over the moon. Feel free to share your ‘This is me’ story, I’d love to watch it.
I made a video with the longer version of the blog. If you make a video too, tag me in so I can watch and share 🙂
Stay safe and well, wear your mask and remember, it’s okay not to be okay.
This year I won’t write much about how important is World Mental Health Day. We all know that every day is Mental Health Day, we can’t look after our mental health once a year, we need to tend to it as much as we do our physical health, if not more and asking for help if needed is nothing to be ashamed of, it only shows you are human with feelings.
And if you are one of those people who goes around boasting you never had a mental health problem and telling others they should ‘man up’, then you are in deep denial. One person every 40 seconds commits suicide. Take a minute to let that sink in before you devalue others’ mental health struggles.
I won’t talk about my personal experience either, I’ve done it plenty of times, you can read more here, I just want to say, after everything the whole planet has been and still going through, especially these last few months, the constant fear of contracting the virus, worrying about our loved ones who are more vulnerable than others, the prolonged lockdown, struggling to cope with being inside for so long, the effects on our financial situation and worrying about employment and money, the psychological effects of self isolation, after all these and unfortunately much more, please just remember:
It’s OK. It’s OK to struggle, it’s OK to be angry, sad, frustrated, disappointed, worried.
We are all different and we all deal with our issues in our own way. Do what you need to do for yourself, look after yourself and remember to devote time on your mental wellbeing, in whatever form helps you, it could be anything. For me is yoga, writing, music and travelling, wandering around (though I can’t do much travelling right now but I try as much as I can on my little island). For others could be drawing, dancing, anything. Please don’t feel guilty if you haven’t been ‘productive’ or had a sofa day.
And if you can, speak about it. Let’s get rid of the stigma once and for all. Why is it fine to talk about heart disease, cancer, little pains, big pains, express our worries, pain and fear when it comes to physical health but we still can’t openly talk about it when we feel down or sad, or are diagnosed with depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, borderline personality?
So that’s my message for today. Look after yourself and talk about mental health.
I desperately needed a haircut. I couldn’t even look at my hair. Everything happened so fast I didn’t get the chance to have my hair cut before I moved to Italy and the last one I had was early in the summer in Southampton (I miss the UK so much more I dare to admit sometimes).
Of course it wasn’t about the hair. It was all about self care and I’d started neglecting myself, pretty dangerous for me, it lets the depression and severe anxiety demons creep in and slowly take over without me realising until is too late, so I had to get my hair cut. Urgently.
I’m not sure if you remember where I live now, it’s a small city where very few people you come across speak English, so even the thought of attempting to book an appointment I found intimidating.
But self-preservation prevailed and I wouldn’t let my very poor Italian get in the way. (My Italian hasn’t improved much since, in case you are wondering.)
If you asked me what the most common expression I’ve used so far during my first three months in Italy was, it’s not ‘scusi’, or ‘per favore’ but..
‘Non parlo Italiano’.
It’s my opening line most of the time. Oh no, I actually first speak in English, as I often forget they won’t understand me, then I notice the baffled expression on their face and I explain.
So here’s how I managed to get a (decent) haircut with minimal communication but plenty of awkwardness.
Eleni- ‘Hi, I’d like too…, oh sh**. Non parlo Italiano, parle Inglese?
Hairdresser- Mmmm, no… (waves at one of the other hairdressers who knows a bit of English apparently).
El- Taglio (cut). Pointing at my hair. ‘Un po’ (How the hell do you say ‘trim’ in Italian?)
H-Si. Quando? (Yes! Finally a word I know!)
El-Sabato, matina (morning)?
H– (After checking their appointment book). Mm, tredici? (1pm, Italians tend to follow the 24hr format).
E– Si, si, grazie!
Pheew. First step done. I managed to book an appointment!
Saturday (haircut day)
11pm
I couldn’t remember if the appointment was at 11am or 1pm. In my head numbers were mixed up the minute I left the hairdressers two day ago. Full time teaching does that to you, messing up your brain. So I went at 11am, just to check. The hairdressers burst into laughing. I thought I’d attempt to go food shopping since I got up anyway, but the supermarket was way too busy for my liking (Damn, I could have stayed in bed a little longer).
1pm
I walked in. I had no idea what to say or do. The place was full of customers chatting away. I felt paralysed, mute. I couldn’t let any words out. I didn’t know how to. I could understand some of the conversations but I couldn’t take part. A horrible feeling.
That’s how my students must feel… I kept thinking.
After about half an hour wait (which I was ‘lucky’ as quite often you wait way longer, I was told), I was summoned on the chair.
The stylist asked me how I wanted my hair. I managed to explain (thanks to Antonella, Elena and Google translate) that I just wanted a trim and layers but not too short.
I was terrified. What if she gives me a horrible haircut, what if I end up looking like a pencil?
We didn’t speak much after that. She couldn’t speak English, I couldn’t speak Italian. She made an effort, which I appreciated, she asked me if I was a student, thankfully I knew how to say ‘I’m an English teacher’. My second most used expression (‘insegnante di Inglese’).
An hour later and after a lot of miming and gesturing (and a few word exhanges partially thanks to similarities between Greek and Italian), I left the hairdressers relieved I didn’t look like a pencil, it was actually a decent haircut and cheap compared to UK prices (12 euros).
But it was the most awkward hairdresser’s experience I ever had. And kind of funny at the same time. I had a little giggle afterwards. It’s fascinating how we humans manage to communicate even when we don’t speak the same language, although sometimes we can’t communicate even if we do speak the same language. The irony.
A month later and I’m none the wiser when it comes to Italian. My timetable doesn’t allow me to attend Italian lessons anymore, though I’m still learning from my students, who feel incredibly proud judging by the huge smile on their face every time they teach me an Italian word.
I’m not sure I’d like to stay in (Southern) Italy after my contract ends, but one thing I discovered is that I love living somewhere I’ve never lived before, being thrown into the deep, learning how to… well how to adopt and survive in another country, another culture, another life. That’s something I definitely want more of.
For now, I’ll enjoy the rest of my stay at this little, odd town that is Reggio Calabria.
A few days ago, I woke up in a sweat, tears streaming down my face, in the middle of the night. I saw my uncle Spyro in my dream, he looked so alive and healthy but he was sad. He knew he was going to die and I was painfully aware he was already dead. It took me a few seconds to realise where I was. I’m in Italy. How on earth all of this happened in just few months?
That’s when it hit me.
I have no idea what is going on. Not a clue. Now that the dust has settled and I’m getting into a routine, a routine I’m not familiar with and not quite sure how it should be, teaching English in a foreign country is brand new to me, I’m making time for myself to reflect, to make sense of what has happened in the last few months.
I don’t know where to start and how to end this post but here it goes.
I still sometimes feel I’m on a long, albeit random and bizarre holiday and I’ll be returning to the UK anytime now. I don’t miss my job, or the grey weather, OK I do miss British autumn, golden leaves across the park, hot chocolate at Mettricks, reading a book or watching silly TV on a Saturday afternoon with a blanket, a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits whilst pouring down with rain outside, but other than that I don’t miss the UK.
I miss things from the UK, the convenience of it all (Amazon Prime aaah), actual little daily things like decent tea, Hobnobs and Chocolate Digestives, but most of all I miss my friends, my dear friends. Not that I don’t love my new colleagues and friends I’ve made already, but I miss my people.
So far I’ve enjoyed working as an EFL teacher. But is this the career I’d like to follow?
I don’t know, I genuinely don’t. I don’t even know if I’m any good at it. I’ll soon get feedback from my managers after they observe me but for now I’m doing what I think best.
Of course if I decide that’s not what I’d like to do long-term I can change careers again, but to do what?
For now I’ll give it time and not think that far ahead, but it’s always at the back of my mind.
I’m strangely not stressed or too anxious, not as much as I expected I’d be. Being one of the oldest teachers and having lived life already comes with its perks I guess. I do sometimes feel I let the rest of them down when I’m too tired or too ill or too old (in a ‘been there, done that’ sense) to follow them in some of their excursions.
It’s still unclear in my head whether I pursued this so fast to not disappoint my tutors who gave me a Grade A or to avoid dealing with my grandpa and my uncle’s deaths, I feel I haven’t processed still what has happened.
I remember the last time I was at my grandpa’s house, where my auntie now lives alone, without pappou Costa or theio Spyro and I caught myself waiting for them to show up. A horrible, sad realisation they will not ever again.
I also feel terrible guilt. I feel guilty I didn’t give my home, Cyprus more time. I was so occupied worrying not to get stuck I left after just a month. I didn’t travel across the island, I didn’t see all my friends and family. I needed an escape and ended up changing my plans at the very last minute.
I know deep in my heart I made the right decision leaving my job and leaving the UK. I’m not sure I made the right decision rushing into my first ELT job, but time will show.
For now I need to find myself again, I have felt the black cloud of depression getting closer over the last week and I desperately want to keep it away.
I need my remedies, my writing (which I’ve done a lot, this terrible cold I can’t shake off did me good in other ways), my Yoga- God I miss Adriene-, my guitar- God I miss my guitar-, and I need to feel like myself because at the moment… (I couldn’t have described it better than Wind and the Wave’s Lost)
Jonny did warn me at the interview, as I assume all CELTA tutors do with their potential students (full details of the interview process here), but no amount of explaining and warning can prepare you for doing a full-time, intensive, month long CELTA course. A level 5 qualification (equivalent to HNC/HND) which normally takes between 6 months/ 1 year full time and 2 years part time squeezed in one month!
Lead in, TPs, Gist Task, Detailed task, Guided Discovery, Monitoring, you pick up the CELTA language from week 1, that’s how intensive it is.
I’ll talk about my experience at Cambridge Regional College but I’m certain the format and the content are similar across the world, as they all follow the Cambridge English syllabus, though not everyone might have been lucky enough to have had such great tutors, classmates and students.
A. format
We started the course on a Friday, to give us time to get to know each other and our surroundings and on the following Monday we taught for the first time, just an introductory, non-assessed class. The following day we had to teach our first assessed Teaching Practice (TP), extremely stressful for someone who struggles with anxiety like me, but it helped we got to know the students the day before first. With most education providers you are required to teach your first assessed lesson on day two. Yes, it’s pretty intense from the start.
-Input sessions
Every morning we had input sessions, where Jonny and Fiona in turns covered the main topics of EFL teaching: learners and teachers, and the teaching and learning context, language analysis and awareness, language skills: reading, listening, speaking and writing, planning and resources for different teaching contexts and developing teaching skills and professionalism. For more details you can check the Cambridge English CELTA syllabus here.
Input sessions with those two were never dull, they were always fun, engaging and creative, even with typically boring, dreadful subjects like teaching grammar. Jonny’s colour- coordinated flashcards and phonetics jokes were superb and Fiona’s energy, honesty and saying things as they were were refreshing. I won’t go into much detail, I wouldn’t like others to steal Jonny and Fiona’s hard work but I’m not sure many CELTA students got to mime, dance and laugh as much as we did whilst learning.
-Teaching
In the afternoons we were split into two groups. Half of us taught the pre-intermediate group and the other half the upper intermediate (and we switched half way, every teacher has to teach two levels). When we were not teaching we observed and gave feedback to each other. Jonny or Fiona (in turns) were always there assessing and providing us with feedback after each session. We taught six 40 min and two 1hr long sessions (8 sessions and 6 hours in total).
Don’t worry if you’ve never taught before, I hadn’t before this. We were provided with lesson frameworks to use from day one and every morning the day before we were to teach we met with our tutor to help us with the lesson planning, except for the last two sessions where assistance with planning was also assessed and varied depending on what grade you were aiming for (more on that on a separate post).
-Observing
You are also required 6 hours of observing experienced teachers. We observed summer school teachers in the classroom, a video-taped session and our tutors who both were AMAZING at their teaching and way better than the rest we observed. Engaging, building rapport almost instantly, monitoring effectively and making the class fun and interesting. That’s how I aspire to teach.
-Assignments
As if lesson planning, input sessions, teaching and observing are not enough you also have to prepare and hand in 4 assignments, around 1000 words each covering the main topics mentioned above. It’s hard work this course!
-Grades
Possible outcomes are:
-Pass A (about 5% of successful candidates).
-Pass B (about 25% of successful candidates)
-Pass (about 70% of successful candidates)
-Fail
Fiona told us from day one she won’t let anyone fail and nobody did.
B. Day to day work
You may assume you go home around 5pm and you only need an hour or two preparing for the next day but that’s not the case. Lesson planning takes, especially to begin with, at least 4-5 hours- ‘Double the time you think it will take’ Fiona used to say and she was right- and the more you progress through the course the more exhausted, sleep deprived and stressed you become, which slows everything down significantly.
C. How to make it
Classmates
All ten of us used to go in as early as possible so we can finish our lesson plans, print our handouts and/or help each other with assignments. Honestly we wouldn’t have made it without each other. I certainly wouldn’t.
We all reached our limit and were about to quit, particularly towards the end of week two. We were warned that would happen, though nobody told us it would happen more than once. If you really want this qualification, persevere. You will feel like quitting at least once, but the sense of achievement will more than make up for it in the end.
Most of us were not from Cambridge, we had no family or friends around, we lived and breathed CELTA for a month and that takes its toll. We kept each other going, read and corrected each other’s assignments, lesson plans, hand outs. We cried together, we laughed together. We bonded a lot, very fast. It’s inevitable when you spend every day with the same people, trying your best for the same thing.
Having a WhatsApp group helped a lot not just with homework but also mentally. Sharing our frustrations and worries was therapeutic.
This may not be the case with everyone who does the CELTA. I think I was lucky I had such sweet, caring, brilliant, funny, all round awesome classmates I now call friends. I miss you all!
Tutors
I’ve touched a bit on this already but I feel we were lucky we had such great tutors. It’s obvious they love what they do and they are incredibly amazing at it. They passed on their enthusiasm, skills and knowledge to us, so when we get out there and teach we care and we do it right.
They were there before us in the morning and left after us most days. Whilst they had to train us, they also had to deal with the rest of their day to day job in between as well as read and mark our assignments.
Both Fiona and Jonny supported us as much as they possibly could, me personally, when I was going through my grief having lost my grandpa on week one. I cried in front of them on my first week and they were both understanding, they offered me a break and checked up on me.
Also I wouldn’t have been able to manage my stress and teach so effectively if it wasn’t for Fiona. She helped me more than she realised. She is awesome.
Students
I got to teach two lovely groups of students. Before my first teaching session I was terrified of what I was about to face but by the end of the course I loved everyone in both classes. People from all over the world, Italy, Spain, Brazil, Colombia, Lithuania, you name it, who happened to now live in Cambridge and just wanted to improve their English all came together and I was blessed with teaching them. I got to know and chat to every single one of them outside the class, have a laugh with them and hopefully taught them a thing or two.
Accommodation
Most of my classmates were not from Cambridge or the UK, so we all lived in a brand new environment dealing with all sorts of situations whilst studying hard every day.
I lived with a host ‘family’, it was only the landlady, Mary in my case, who also provided breakfast and dinner every day and did my laundry every week. It was challenging at times, especially when all the rooms were occupied, noise, queue for the bathroom (though they were three!) but all in all it was brilliant. Mary looked after me and I made great friends, not just Mary but also my Russian flatmates! If you have the option I definitely recommend it, you won’t have time to cook or do anything else for a month, it helps to have dinner prepared for you and a clean room to your disposal.
Overall thoughts
The 4 week CELTA course was one of the most mentally and physically challenging things I ever had to do, it tested my sanity, my health, my limits in more than one way and my anxiety flared up bad, I didn’t sleep more than three/four hours a day, I didn’t get to see much of Cambridge but it was also incredibly rewarding and fulfilling, at least for me. I learnt a lot, I fell in love with teaching and I made friends in Cambridge and all over the world, from Peru to Italy and Azerbaijan. Once in a lifetime experience I’ll never forget.
If I had to do it again I’d may opt for the part-time option, though that has its challenges too if you work full-time, and it may take longer to learn as you don’t apply what you learn immediately, but I don’t regret a single moment.
If you decide to do it full time, I’d with no second thought recommend Cambridge Regional College.
If you do it in Cambridge, go a few days early or stay a few days after to enjoy what this gorgeous city has to offer. I’d love to go back some time and go punting, visit the Wren Library, have afternoon tea at Grantchester and do yoga in the park by the river. Who knows, maybe I will one day.
After thoughts
Despite no previous teaching experience I managed to get the highest grade (Grade A), so it is possible, but I will write about that on a separate post.
I just started a part-time job teaching A1 Movers and A2 Key young learners, the CELTA can’t prepare you for that I’m afraid. I’ll write about that soon too but any advice would be greatly appreciated.
Wow. I do NOT know where to start from. If you could only see what is happening inside my head.
OK let’s start from right now.
I’ve been in Cyprus for two days and I spent the first one at the beach, at a gorgeous little bay in Protaras, Sirena Bay (with a cute, bohemian restaurant at the top of a hill overlooking the sea) which felt like manna from heaven, like rain after a hot, humid day, like a hot cup of tea and chocolate digestives on a freezing cold, winter afternoon.
As you know, I spent August in Cambridge doing my CELTA course. One of the most challenging, intense, stressful but also rewarding, extraordinary experiences of my life so far.
I haven’t slept more than a few hours a night for a month, I cried many a times, my anxiety completely paralysed me more than once, I didn’t get to see Cambridge much, visit Grantchester or the Wren library or go punting (I’m definitely returning in Cambridge just to do all this) but it was all worth it, not only for getting the qualification and marked as ‘above standard’ (Who? Me! I never taught in my life!) but mostly for the friends I made from all over the world. My classmates, my students, my flatmates. I’ll write about it very soon to share my experience with others who are considering doing the CELTA. For now, I’m still trying to recover from it. I still dream of lesson plans, teaching, my classmates, my tutors.
On my last day in the UK, I visited my brother Andi and had an awesome day in London. It didn’t feel real what was happening. I have actually left Southampton for good, I finished my course and I’m on my way to Cyprus, with no fixed plan. What the hell.
I’m in Cyprus since Sunday and I feel completely lost. Should I try and get an English language teaching job and get experience right away, since I absolutely loved teaching, but leave in a month, or should I do what I originally planned, and have a few months of holiday, write, make videos, read books, try different things and then go? Should I go in Vietnam first or Costa Rica? Asia or Latin America? Or Europe?
No bloody idea. For now, I’ll leave all of this behind and enjoy a couple of weeks of holiday, a few days in Protaras and then Rhodes (vlogs coming very soon), get back into my yoga, give my mind time to rest and reset and then who knows.
To all my friends, in Southampton, Cambridge, Russia, Bangladesh, Spain, Italy and wherever else you might be, I miss you dearly already.
I sometimes wish making a decision was easy, so many options but then again how boring life would be if I didn’t have any.
Have you been doing much reflecting lately, now that’s your birthday? Donna asked.
No, not this year. I said and I smiled. I have done my reflecting earlier this year, when I was about to make huge life-changing decisions .
Though I have a vague plan and it just feels right, I’m still terrified, anxious and sometimes stay up at night, wondering whether I should do sometime more ‘sensible’. But let’s not talk about that right now. (*takes deep breath).
So hm hm (*clears throat) my thoughts on turning 33: I don’t feel any older than a year ago. I actually feel younger and I don’t feel I’m a ‘proper’ adult, or at least what the most imagine being an adult means.
Not that I care. I can’t wait to get out of the office and try and make living doing things I enjoy, with people I love. Because, really, that’s what life is about and honestly, every day passes by is one day less until I’m dead.
As my favourite Fleabag once said:
–What did Jesus do by the time he was 33?
–He died. That’s all he did.
So my Jesus year as I call it will be an adventure to say the least! Even if I die at the end of it, I’ll die happy.
I’m still non the wiser and most of the time I pretend I know how to navigate through life…
but for now, I’m spending most of my time having fun (and panicking) with my friends in Southampton I will dearly miss when I leave…
and indulging in delicious food.
If there’s anything I learnt from 33 years on this planet is that life is too short to spend in an office or worry about what others think or succumb to social pressures to be something you don’t wan’t to be or with someone you don’t want to be with. You don’t have to be an ‘adult’ the way society dictates, you can adult your own, special way.
Just be you, love and laugh, laugh until it hurts.
I’m walking to work. It’s not that cold today so I can feel the extra layers of clothes weighing me down.
What if my mum gets dementia? What if she can’t remember me?? I teared up just thinking about it.
I watched a video yesterday with a woman talking to her mum in sign language in her car asking her if she recognises her. They have a minute long conversation and towards the end the mum asks the daughter:
Did I give birth to you?
She nods and they hug.
What if I die? My gums are still sore, what if it’s something serious and I end up dying here, now, away from my nearest and dearest? Every time anything hurts and doesn’t go away fast (and it doesn’t the older you get), BOOM, my mind is almost immediately imagining the worst possible scenario and anxiety levels reach new highs.
Am I a failure for considering moving back home for a while? Am I being ungrateful for wanting a change? Why am I not happy with my life as it is? Am I even good for anything else? I manage depression well nowadays unlike anxiety, but every now and then it finds a way, of course it does.
What is the point of living anyway if we’ll all die in the end? Julie’s death shocked me. A perfectly healthy early 50s year old who’s completed over 100 parkruns and had ran 10k a day before she suddenly collapsed and never woke up.
Now tears are streaming down my face and I’m almost at work.
Pull yourself together woman! At the end of the day, any decision will be scary. It’s never going to be a good time. So just be brave. And do what you feel is the best for you. You can’t do everything, you can’t live 100 different lives, so just do something, anything. I tell myself and walk in.
All this during a 15 minute walk, intermittent with actually listening to the music in my headphones before the next intrusive thought.
Oh no, don’t cry, it’s in your heart So dry those eyes, keep holding on for your dear life Be a soldier of hope!
I once took a picture that somehow sums up how I feel when I’m IN the upside down. It’s as if I’m trying to cycle through the park, in a misty morning, I can’t see much, all I can see is the post in front of me I’m terrified I’d hit, but the reality is, 5 minutes later? I’m out, the mist is lifted, I didn’t hit the post and I can now see the gorgeous lake.
This is only an example of an episode and it can happen multiple times a day.
I know this is just not me, I know you go through the same motions. We all do. So let’s talk about it.
Let it all out. I’m not weird, you are not weird. We are humans and that’s how our brains work and the more we talk about it, the more we can help each other and get rid of the stigma around it once and for all.
Since I started talking about it, I realised that I’m not crazy or the only one going through this, we are all in this together. It feels better almost instantly when you share.
One thing that helps me remind myself when I go through an episode is what Matt Haig beautifully put together in a few sentences.
I’m more confused than ever and I keep changing my mind about things every minute of every hour but one thing is for sure, I’ll never stop talking about mental health.
Would you like to do some colouring? Six and a half year old Erica asked me 10 minutes into our chat.
Of course I said. And a minute later she brought a large box of pencils, pens, crayons, borrowed some paper from the printer at the reception desk her grandma sat, and demonstrated beautifully how she could climb on the stool next to me and we started drawing.
She was ‘doing artistic’, basically just drawing circles and lines and I was drawing the sun. She lent me her favourite golden colour to colour it.
I never thought that one day I’ll be drawing and chatting about life with a six year old (‘Not six, six and a half, I’ll be seven in September!’ she corrected me) at the dentist’s office but after a major anxiety episode just before my orthodontist exam (a series of blogs on my getting braces experience coming soon, if all goes well), this little break I had whilst waiting for my x-rays was just what I needed.
She told me how she doesn’t like boys because they are silly (her grandma and I had a right laugh, telling her that they don’t really change over time) but she has two boyfriends, Alex and Finley, Finley is the one she is in love with though.
We talked about her family, how she would have a little sister in a few months, how much she likes school. A sweet, well-behaved, unbelievably clever little girl.
To think that an hour earlier I was making a list on my phone of all the things they could have gone wrong and scoring my anxiety level 9 out of 10. None of this actually happened in case you are wondering. But there’s no common sense when it comes to anxiety.
Erica reminded me how much simpler and fun life can be when you don’t worry about things and just enjoy the moment and she completely distracted me from my crazy thoughts.
I was thinking after I left how talking to children can not just benefit older people ( I LOVE Old People’s home for 4 year olds, such a brilliant idea) but it could work as a great stress relief for everyone.
Thank you Erica for reminding me to let out the child in me sometimes, you made my day.
A glorious clear blue sky, with perfect views of the sun, the sea. Then suddenly a dark cloud appears, and another one, and a few seconds later, rain and thunderstorm.
The blue sky: my mind. The views: life, happiness, serenity. The clouds: the ‘not pleasant’ thoughts. The rain and thunderstorm: depression and anxiety.
A million of those thoughts racing in my mind. The terrifying realisation of growing older, ‘when will I do everything I want?’ What if something happens to my family?, worry how and whether I can afford a new job? braces? travelling?, worry for my current job, ‘what if I’m made redundant, or downgraded?’, worry there’s not enough time in a day to write, play my guitar, do my yoga, draw, read a book, do more volunteering, see a film, watch a play, try new things.What if I die tomorrow and I don’t get to do any of this??
My heart starts to beat faster and faster, my hands are sweating, I forget to breathe and then…
Disappointment, self-doubt, ‘maybe that’s just it, maybe I can’t do any more. Stuck in the same place for ever… ‘
And finally, the worst of it all. Numbness. Emptiness. At random, unexpected moments it feels as if I can’t shake away this, this feeling of vainness, as if my ability to feel happiness has been suddenly taken away.
January is tough for me. Christmas (which I love) is over but winter (which I don’t) is not, summer is still months away, we are all back to routine (I hate routine). It’s dark and bitterly cold which makes it harder to do things outside the house and all the reminders that another year is over are not helping.
Of course I know all this is is in my head. For me though it’s real. It’s not all the time or all together (sometimes it’s just the anxiety, or the depression) I can still have a laugh, enjoy some things but sometimes I can’t get out of this maze.
So at a time of the year that most start afresh and focus on their New Year resolutions, are doing Veganuary, Dry January, Red January, what do I do? I’m just doing January. Just things that keep my anxiety and depression from affecting my functionality. Just surviving for now.
I still have a wishlist of things I’d love to do, a bucket list (I prefer to tick off things off my bucket list rather than have resolutions) and I’m a great believer you can start something anytime of the year, for now though I just need to get through this month.
But it can’t just be me that feels that way. Actually, I know for a fact it’s not just me. I’ve spoken to friends who go through the same motions. I’ve seen posts on social media from others who are finding it hard to fight the blues.
If you, like me are struggling this January, here’s some of the things that help me, hopefully they may help you or they may help you find what works for you.
Music. Most of the day, every day. Indie, folk, rock, pop, depending on my mood. I wouldn’t survived without my Spotify playlist.
Yoga. Whatever happens I always go back to Yoga with Adriene since I discovered it back in 2017. My favourite yoga lady. Her 30 day yoga revolution is now on, every day a new video, a new session. That half an hour, 40 minutes a day is sometimes the only time I manage to keep the invasive thoughts away.
Food. Healthy, delicious food with a few unhealthy treats a week, pizza on a Friday, lunch with friends. It’s all about balance. I loved this wholefood vegan burger from cafe Thrive yesterday.
Reading. At the moment I’m reading Matt Haig’s (whose autobiographical books on anxiety and depression are humbly and beautifully honest, amazing) Notes On A Nervous Planet. Highly recommend following him on Twitter.
Friends. The show and real friends. Watching Friends never fails to make me laugh. And time with my friends. Talking to friends and family keeps me connected to the real world, otherwise detachment may overstay its welcome.
What helps you? I’d love to know what’s worked for others so we can inspire one another.
Lessons I learned after I turned 30 