Where Have I Been All Of Your Life?

What an eight months I’ve had.
I quit my job (essentially ending an almost ten-year career) just before last Summer, and never did I think I’d see today.

I hid from shame, embarrassed and demoralised at having to visit the Job Centre to claim Jobseeker’s Allowance.
I slipped further and further into my really shitty financial mess.
And I cried.

I cried so much I became numb and didn’t want to feel anymore.
I contemplated getting in my Car and driving away…somewhere…anywhere as long as it wasn’t here.
I gave serious thought to getting in my Car and driving it off the Bridge at the end of our road.

But I’m here now and I’m so glad I am.
I have a new job and I like it.
I’m making wise choices about my Life as it is now and my future as I’d like it to be.
It feels okay to smile again. This time it’s real and genuine…


I have plans, but I’ve learned and experienced enough to know that small steps are sensible – after coming to a complete stop, I suppose I’m learning to crawl again before I can walk, run and fly.

Life Is A Beautiful Struggle

Whoever said that (I believe it was Talib Kweli or some Rapper) is a liar, because it isn’t.

Struggle isn’t beautiful.
There’s nothing beautiful about being unemployed.
Nothing beautiful in having to claim benefits, degrading Yourself by sitting amongst the great unwashed every two weeks when You have to sign on and justify the fact that ‘yes I am actively looking for work’.

Is it really ‘beautiful’ when You can no longer afford the repayments on Your Car or the Insurance?
Wishing that the Postman skips Your house, screening Phone calls.
That’s beautiful right?

Lying to Your Family to save Your own shame and Your Mother’s pride.
Yeah…I feel like a fucking beauty Queen.
Logging on to the same sites, seeing the same jobs. Applying, hearing nothing.
Driving 358 miles for the perfect job; acing the Interview, being told from the Horses mouth that they were ‘very impressed’, and finding out that the script of that whole new Life of prospect and promise that You wrote Yourself into, isn’t going to happen.
That’s pretty right?

Don’t ever tell me that Life is a beautiful struggle, because for me right now, it’s anything but.

Struggle is a dark place.
It’s a place where almost everyday I envision ways in which I don’t have to be here anymore. So the Phone will stop ringing and the Postman won’t have to deliver anymore letters of a Red hue.
So I can permanently avoid the looks and not have to remember who knows what.
So my Mother doesn’t have to endure this extra bit of disappointment about Her first born.

So that I don’t have to deal.
Because I can’t.

Living With My Lot

My Lot might be nothing to you, but to me it is my world.

A world that for now seems uncertain…I say ‘for now’ as it seems like it’s already been forever; a roller coaster on a never ending track leading to who knows where.

And I can’t see where I’m going because I don’t want to; I mean, if you’re going nowhere there’s no point in looking, right?

 

My Lot is waking up each morning and wishing that you didn’t.

Wishing that it wasn’t really happening.  

That it never happened at all.  

That what once was, is.

Screening calls, heart leaping with fear every time the phone rings.

Loathing the Postman not just because he comes late, but because he comes at all.

A sigh of relief as there’s nothing for me…and the pang of realisation that it’s probably on its way.

 

My Lot is going shopping with nothing but two long hands.

I’ve stopped looking.  Stopped admiring.

Adept at feigning interest in the purchases of others.

Oh and I’m really good at fake happiness and joy too.

How the fuck am I meant to be happy and joyful?

 

They ask you that at the Job Centre you know.

I smile sweetly, never letting it reach my eyes, all the while hating that I have to be here.

Amongst the great unwashed.  One of them.

Avoiding the gazes.  Being there only as long as I need to be.

The shame is too much.

 

And the shame of my Lot?

I can’t deal with that.

Working so hard to get it, to achieve the dream.  Getting it.  Then fucking it up.

I’m ashamed, I’m disgraced.

Actually I don’t know what’s worse; the actual shame and disgrace, or the lies I tell to relatives when they ask, “How’s work going?  I bet you can’t wait for the next holiday?”

My stock reply being “Yeah, it’s alright.”

 

But it isn’t ‘alright’ my Lot.

It’s not alright that jobs in my field are scarce,

It’s not alright that you apply for a job that you can do with your eyes closed and hear nothing,

It’s not alright that nobody calls you back to say that you weren’t short-listed, or even acknowledge your existence.

It’s not alright that I can’t pay my bills and that I’m about to lose the very little I own.

My Lot is great, it’s shitty.

It’s that monkey on my back, that ever pervading Black dog that looms.

 

My Lot has me feeling unworthy of being; thinking of a way out, away or around.

Well meaning folk offering impossible and impractical solutions.

I have a few of my own, but they’re of a more final and permanent nature.

 

I never thought of myself as one of those people who ‘had it all’,

But in this moment I feel like I have nothing.

And I know that that’s not true, because I have something really special.

 

My Lot.  And I’m living with it.

(c) RSB 2012

Baby, Baby, Baby, Ooohhh…No.

Ever heard the phrase ‘Pre pregnant’? Me neither until a few days ago.

I was reading a piece from The Washington Post opinion page about motherhood being an all-encompassing role that all women should aspire to and make it their life’s work to prepare for.
*insert side eye here*

The assumption that all women want to be Mothers and should behave and be treated as ‘Moms in waiting’ is…rude. The term Pre pregnancy refers to the notion that from the very day a woman starts menstruating, she should treat her body as a shrine to pending motherhood and maintain a regular diet of folic acid, limit alcohol intake, don’t smoke and avoid ‘risky’ sexual behaviour.

All that doesn’t sound like my idea of fun, and to be quite honest, the notion that this is all I’m here for and all I’m expected to do just doesn’t sit well with me.
I was always a very independent child, never one to totally toe the line, so to tell me to hypothetically shelve my own needs for the sake of a being that may it may not appear at some point in my fecund years? No. Never. Not happening.

Searching For A Cosy Winter Warmer

So it’s the last Bank Holiday before Christmas, and it seems that the whole world wants to find a partner and bed down for the Winter.

My friends, cuffing season is here.

It’s that time of year when the balmy (hypothetically speaking) Summer draws to an end, and the male of the species decides that they’ve had enough of dicking around, and earnestly begin the search for a cuddle buddy so as not to spend the Winter months lonely and avoiding the cold side of the bed.

 

 

 

You’ll tend to find that random guys will have started sniffing around a couple of weeks ago, and you’ll have already been bombarded with an influx of BBQ invites, out of the blue texts and those ‘I just wanted to see how you are’ phone calls.

But please, please don’t be fooled into thinking that all this attention is reserved just for you.  Oh no, we live in the age of the mass text/email and although Winter is drawing near, most guys will still operate with a Summer mentality, so trust me when I say that you’re likely to be one of about twelve people receiving that same message!

 

The  images above seem to state that if you make it past the initial three months of the season, then you’re doing pretty well.  Note that it mentions little of longevity though.

What happens past that three month stage?  Is it a probationary period with real terms and conditions?  I’ve heard it said that cuffing season is simply a way of getting some when the prospects are kinda low, and that it’s another way of promoting promiscuity.

I’m really shocked that there are men and women out there who would give serious consideration to a seasonal relationship.  Self esteem issues maybe?  And would you believe there are actual sites and articles on the Internet that give ‘single girls’ tips on how to prepare for cuffing season, and various do’s and don’ts?

 

I’ve never been one for serial dating…dating full stop actually, but I can sort of see the appeal of this cuffing season lark.  I mean, a guy will have to invest time and attention; this is so much more than a booty call.  Companionship, dates…potentially this is the stuff Hallmark Channel movies are made of!

But seriously, what does happen when the frost thaws and the blossom makes its return to the trees?  The bitter, burnt and slightly crispy around the edges part of me has serious reservations about it all; that after playing the role of official bed warmer and girlfriend whilst Jack Frost came to play, this guy isn’t just going to go right back to playing the field as soon as the nights start getting longer and hemlines rise?

To be a successful cuffer you’d probably have to have the skills of one Stevie J, and be able to get everybody on the same bus that you’re driving.  (so called) Charm, wit and game are what’s needed to make it work, because otherwise the whole thing will fall apart from the jump.  Keeping your cuffee interested is key, and most women will get swept up in the destructive cycle of false, mixed emotions where she thinks that this is the start of a beautiful relationship, and he has regular, guaranteed, ever-faithful sex on tap, with no attachment.

 

Honestly, it’s stuff like this that makes me not want to get involved with guys and relationships.  I don’t want to have that thought in the back of my mind that there’s an ulterior motive involved, and essentially that’s what cuffing season is.  It’s the false sense of a relationship built on a pretty weak foundation of sex, and I don’t really buy into that.

Yes it would be nice to garner some male attention at anytime, let alone during the Autum/Winter, but this whole cuffing thing seems like way too much effort and hassle, and is probably just a waste of time.

 

What do you think?  Are you for the cuffing season or against?

Are you a cuffer or a cuffee?  What were your experiences of the season?

Talk to me.

 

Can Money Really Make You Happy?

“How much money do you need to be happy? Think about it? What’s your number?“

That was the question asked by The New York Times last week, and it’s taken me a while to come up with an answer.
They say that money doesn’t buy happiness, but it’s clear to see that people who earn more and have a higher standard of living, are much happier than those who are less financially endowed.

Summer’s Almost Over

We’re three weeks into the Summer Holidays and whilst the weather isn’t all that, it’s a struggle to find things to keep ourselves and the kids occupied.

Recently I found these two posters on Pinterest for fun things to do on rainy days and on a budget.
A lot of the activities are really accessible and can be adapted to suit, and I reckon that if You have the energy you can probably get through two or three in a day!

What will you do today?