Tag Archives: men

Even As I Write This I Am Cringing At Myself,

but… whatever.

I spent some time thinking, late last night. I was in a small amount of pain as a result of my most recent half marathon training effort, in which I managed 2.5 miles – for the majority of which I genuinely thought I was going to die. And this pain led me to panic to no small extent about the real thing. I have six weeks to go from thinking I am dying during a 2-mile run, to surviving 13 miles. And there it was; fear of failure.

This maybe isn’t the best example of what I’m trying to say here, because it didn’t take me all that long to come to the conclusion that, hey, how many people ever get this far in the pursuit of a fitness/exercise related goal? How was I to know, when I started out, that the regular exercise we all believe to be holy and divine and to have the power to transform us into our very best selves, was in fact going to destroy my health inch by disappearing inch? How many people have ever been in that “enviable” position of neither needing nor wanting to lose any weight or burn any more calories than they did before they started running 20 miles a week? That place where running 20 miles a week will leave them feeling wiped out all the time, weighing scarily less than they used to and bingeing on all the junk they can find (whilst at the same time trying to fit in the recommended amounts of healthy stuff every day) in a desperate effort to feel alive and get some kind of a figure back?

No; all things considered, it wouldn’t really be a sign of failure if I were to heed my body’s sage warnings and end this madness. I could do something less potentially life-threatening in aid of the charity people donated money to in my name. Although the whole point of my doing this was so that I could feel like I’d achieved something at the end of it, I was labouring under all of the universally held assumptions surrounding physical exertion. I still have every intention of continuing to train, of completing the race, of achieving the aim; I am just massively looking forward to vegging out and returning to a healthy weight and not-feeling-like-a-zombie when it’s all over and done with.

From that train of thought I guess I finally figured out what He meant when he said I need to fuck up more.

There aren’t that many everyday fuck-ups that are impossible to get through, to survive and recover from. Whether I run the race and come out of it hideously unhealthy or pull out and find something else admirable to do for the charity, things will work out and everything will be ok in the end. At the very worst, at least I know a kick-ass way to lose weight should I ever need to.

And yet, with most of everything I do (or want to do, could do, should do but don’t) I am held back by the crippling terror of it all going horribly wrong. The reason I am so afraid is because I’ve so far never allowed anything to go horribly wrong enough in my life. I haven’t experienced the outcome of that, that recovery from that crash, that new door opening because an old one closed. I haven’t taken the calculated risk, because I got too scared during the calculation.

Except in one area of my life; the one He became a part of as a result of my past fuck-ups. Relationships. Having been messed with in all imaginable ways by past partners (I know that makes me sound like an old woman at the tender age of 21; there have been less than a handful of past partners, just enough to teach me most of all I’ll ever need to know) I have reached a position of relative fearlessness where my current one is concerned. Ok so a sizable portion of that may just be due to the fact that he isn’t an asshole like the others were. A sizable portion may be due to the fact that I knew that about him all along, even before I chose to ignore all rationality and spend a stupid amount of my precious time with one of said asshole others. A sizable portion may be due to the fact that eventually giving in to common sense felt like going home from a long vacation in several cities where I could never belong.

But. But.

Of course I still have worries, I still have doubts, nobody is perfect. But the thing is, I know now that whatever happens, I will be ok in the end. I will survive, I will recover. After my very first proper relationship failed when he cheated on me for the second time (with one of my good friends, no less) I didn’t think life could go on. I thought I had lost the love of my life (ha. ha ha ha). I was devastated, heartbroken. Nowadays I am embarrassed to think that I ever indulged in such emotions for his sake; really, he was never any good to me. I am baffled as to why I never figured that out at the time. Perhaps I did, maybe I always knew we weren’t right together but was just too afraid to admit it and let go. And so he trampled all over me and… I survived. I learned. I learned to look at things differently and realised that things turned out for the best on all sides. Ok so I took a longer and more dangerous route than I should have to get to where I am now, but I made it; I am still here and I have developed a backbone and I will never put with that kind of bullshit in a relationship again. As one half of a couple, I now have self-worth. In the event of misbehaviour on His part, we both know that I will be ok. I will survive, I will get over it,  I will maintain that self-worth. Sure, he could hurt me… but I could heal. And this is why, despite the long-distance nature of our relationship, we have managed so far. This is how I have the strength to trust him, to believe him and believe in him, to back off when he needs me to and to never be jealous or clingy or have ridiculous expectations of either of us. I have no intention of hurting him, and I believe him when he tells me he would never do anything to hurt me. Oh, and we’re both smart enough to realize and take responsibility when our actions have unintentionally harmed each other. Without speaking too soon, I think this really, really works.

Now I just need the courage/stupidity/naivety to throw more than my whole self into something work-related and be prepared to watch it go gloriously tits-up (as the saying goes round here), in the name of closing that long distance.

;)

~xx~


I’m Tired Of Being,

 

On The Outside,

I Wanna Know

What It’s Like.

I’m Tired of Seeing,

All The Sights,

I Wanna Feel,

Us Collide.

Not sure this means quite the same to me as it did to whoever wrote it. Either way, it’s been in my head since I heard it on the radio about a week ago in my (by the way really quite beautiful) new car, and I only just stopped to think about it today whilst stopping to think about some things I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. It’s also not the kind of music I’d normally go for; there’s something about it that I just like, somehow. I suppose it is fun to sing along to once you figure out the words.

: )

~xx~


Twenty.

Your Fears. 

1. People. Especially the ones I know least, and the ones I know (or would really really like to know) best. They Are Going To Hurt Me, and It Will Hurt. 

2. The Future. One Way Or Another, It Is Going To Hurt. 

3. Myself, and the part I will play in both of the above. I Have This Funny Way Of Always Making Myself Hurt. 

~xx~


Décimo Segundo Dia e Décimo Terceiro Dia

I missed two days.

On Friday I was sleeping then working then absolutely shattered from the working and the cold that seems to have really got me at the moment. (That’s probably my fault for verbally bashing people who are overly dramatic when they catch a cold. Oops).

On Saturday I got up really early to drive a few friends down to Alton Towers  theme park, where we spent the day getting thrown around and screaming like girls. Which was a huge amount of fun, but of course did not help my situation where not-being-able-to-speak is concerned.

[I’ll just add here that unfortunately there would seem to be little the UK’s theme parks could throw at me that will thrill me now. While I still get a tiny bit nervous in the queue for Oblivion, as one friend pointed out; “Steph, you jumped out of a plane…”]

So here’s what I was supposed to write about on Friday;

Five Guys Whom You Find Attractive. 

This is another one of those things I’m cagey about sharing, because I will be judged. Well, here goes…

Here are five celebrity guys I’ve had crushes on in the past (Only mildly though, might I add; I always saved my proper crushes for real people).

1. Orlando Bloom. Won my favour as Will Turner in the first Pirates of the Caribbean film. Can’t decide whether I prefer him polished or  casual, so have both;

      

(I want to steal his watch)

2. Alex Pettyfer. Caught my eye as Alex Rider in Stormbreaker. Much more age-appropriate, considering we’re still talking about me aged around 13, at this point.

3. Josh Holloway. As ‘Sawyer’ in Lost. Nobody ever was jealouser of Evangeline Lilly and her freckles. ;)

[But this one was far, far too old for me].

Harder to explain. I think it was as much the bad boy persona of the character as anything else…

5.  Jared Leto. In 30 Seconds to Mars, (a band I could never really pretend to be into for any other reason than his prettiness).

Particularly in the video for ‘The Kill’, where he’s screaming (THIS IS WHO I REALLY AM) at himself.

(I know that’s only 4. I hoped you wouldn’t notice… I guess I just prefer crushing on real people from real life, ok?)

~

As for Décimo Terceiro Dia, Your Opinion About Your Body and How Comfortable You Are With It, well that really depends on the time of day, day of the week, week of the month, month of the year. Some days there are parts of my body that I like. Some days there are different parts of it that I like. Other days I hate it all. Currently I am slightly annoyed at it for succumbing to minor illness (the aforementioned cold) for such a long time. I want my voice back. Don’t think there’s much more I can say to that right now.

~xx~


Challenge Day 5

Things You Want To Say To An Ex. 

I’m loving the fact that I can think of (almost) absolutely nothing, here. No matter which ex (of which there is technically only one) or which technically-not-an-ex-because-we-were-never-really-properly-together (of which I would say there are one and a half).

One thing I would say, to anyone who ever threw me away; if you could see all of your own flaws the way I can picture them now (and cringe a little as I do) you might just begin to regret treating me like… well, like I wasn’t worth very much, I suppose.

I’m not ruling out the idea that perhaps you were right and I wasn’t; in which case thanks for the the things you made me learn about myself and about life, and for the way that  by making me learn said things, you helped to make me a better person in some ways than I was when I met you.

I’d also say that Yes, you were right; I can do better.

(I’d also love to say that you were right when you called me amazing/beautiful/sexy/awesome/brilliant/adorable/perfect, but that would require a bit more of an ego than I currently possess. So instead I’ll just quietly hope that you meant those things when you said them).

I like to think that not only could I do better, but that I will do better.

I like to think that some day I might mean the world to that ‘better man than you’ that you once told me it would take, to stick around with someone like me.

:)

~xx~


‘Big Sean’ is a cretin.

This, his rap verse in Justin Bieber’s new song, made me laugh out loud when I heard it on the radio on my way to work this morning;

I don’t know if this makes sense, but you’re my hallelujah
Give me a time and place, and I’ll rendezvous, and I’ll fly you to it,
I’ll beat you there
Girl you know I got you
Us, trust…
A couple of things I can’t spell without ‘U’
Now we are on top of the world, ’cause that’s just how we do
Used to tell me, “Sky’s the limit”, now the sky’s our point of view (view)
Man now we stepping out like, “Whoa” (Oh God)
Cameras point and shoot (shoot)
Ask me what’s my best side, I stand back and point at you
You, you the one that I argue with, I feel like I need a new girl to be bothered with,
But the grass ain’t always greener on the other side,
It’s green where you water it
So I know we got issues baby true true true
But I’d rather work on this with you
Than to go ahead and start with someone new
As long as you love me

What an actual load of shite.

‘Us, Trust, A couple things I can’t spell without U’, especially tickled me.

.

Music these days. Sigh.

Oh, and I’d say it’s damn fortunate for Bieber that he isn’t starving, homeless or broke. Because I’m pretty sure nobody loves him.

~xx~


Sticks and Stones

hurt so much less than words. I almost enjoyed the burn across the back of my hand in comparison to the one across my self-confidence. Here’s something that happened to me today that most definitely did not make me feel good (but there is a sort-of smile at the end if you stay with me… oh, and LISTEN UP);

I’d just moved over from serving/doing various small tasks behind the hot food counter in order to help out D, who was serving on the deli counter at the time, because a bit of a queue had developed there.

As I arrived where I was needed, the guy who was apparently next in the queue – somewhere between middle-aged and old, I’d say mid sixties – was chatting to the woman in front of him, whom D was serving at the time.

Addressing both man and woman with a blanket hand gesture, sort of <——-> I said something like; ‘Hi, are you two together or…’

and then addressing just the man, ‘… or are you waiting?’

He said to me, ‘What is all this? (waved his arms a bit) Are you doing sign language at me or something? I don’t understand what you’re saying to me while you’re waving your hands all over the place.’

So I tried again; ‘Sorry, I was asking if you two (*hand gesture* – I can’t help myself, I talk with my hands more than my mouth, mainly because often the words have trouble finding their way out of my mouth in the right order, LOUD(ly) ENOUGH and C-L-E-A-R(ly)  E-N-O-U-G-H and things, when I talk) if you were together, or if you were waiting to be served. Clearly you are.  Sorry.’

At which he snapped, ‘Yes I am waiting to be served, actually. I’ll have two slices of the honey roast ham’.

Resisting the urge to put in the please he left out, I gritted my teeth and went and sliced the ham, put it on the scales and read out the price; ‘That’s one sixty-two there’.

He said nothing for a good ten seconds, so I assumed all was well with one pound sixty two and got on with wrapping the ham, maybe visibly disgruntled by this point. As I was putting the label on the bag, he piped up;

‘Sorry, did you say something to me just then?’

Confused, I looked at him for a second before looking down at the scales again and then saying, louder than before, ‘er… yeah, sorry, one pound sixty-two for the ham...?’

‘Oh well it’s just that I didn’t hear a word you said. You didn’t even look at me. Oh never mind, that’ll do’.

So I handed him the godforsaken ham, and enunciated ‘Oh, right… really sorry about that. Thanks, bye’  in a voice as raised as I could manage while fighting back tears, (it had been a really stressful day up to that point, and surprise surprise I was feeling tired and lifeless and hungry and anxious beyond all rhyme and reason) then spent the next hour or so fighting the same tears with around a 70% success rate.

~

Normally, after such an event I’d just quietly rant to a colleague about what an arsehole that guy was and how I hoped he’d choke on his stupid honey roast ham. But some days life apparently isn’t that straightforward. He had me worrying about whether I really do talk too quietly, mumble, avoid eye contact to the point of perceived rudeness, as a habit. If I do that means I’m barely further on now than I was at age 4; shy to the point of being physically unable to say hello to relatives when they came over (sometimes going so far as to hide my clammed-up shame behind furniture).

Does everyone struggle to hear a single word I say? Do I really speak all that quietly?

If my customer service technique was so far from up to scratch, my boss might have noticed too. My abject failure at fake smiles and pleasantries might outweigh my efficient working habits and my OCD supercleaning of everything and my always making sure everything looked pretty, and if so I might get sacked. Especially if the guy had decided to complain to someone in authority about me. From that point on I made sure I always raised my voice considerably to talk. I tried extra hard with the eye contact and the sickly smiles. I wondered if there existed a job that didn’t involve  interacting with other human beings and berated myself for being so antisocial. Most of all I wondered why, why why why was this bullshit bothering me so much? How far have I fallen if I can’t even stop myself from crying in front of people over silly little things?

I think I’d have dealt better with being physically kicked. Until my brain bled out through my ears.

 

But. While at least two colleagues (the male ones, of course) had a good giggle amongst themselves at my expense, there was one person who saw me cry and was kind about it. Which kinda made me feel like crying more at first, but then I realised I was right the whole time about who the nice ones were gonna be, there. (I placed bets to myself on day one, regarding each co-worker’s true colours – or at least which ones might give me the time of day; so far I think I’ve been pretty much on the money).

So I really hope a lot of good things happen to her.

I also hope this madness-sadness-stupid-shit ends soon. Like, before I’ve managed to lose everything I once held dear. Such as that little shred of dignity I think I might have had at some point.

Pygmy Shrew;

~xx~


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