life – Page 4 – Gonzo With the Wind

It’s Sunday, so I’ll keep it brief – this is just a bit of blatant self promotion anyway. And, boy, do we get enough of adverts thrown at us around this time of year, eh? Anyway, this post will be dedicated to the story of Hannah; Journey to the Centre of the Mind – a Particularly Mental Gap Year, and why you should bring it into your life if you haven’t already done so.

The two pieces of feedback I’ve received most often from my readers is that A: The book is almost impossible to put down, and therefore a quick read, even for the slower readers out there, and B (possibly most importantly): Hannah’s story lets them know that it’s not just them having a shit time of it – other people struggle with some level of the same shit too – that black dog can be an impossible beast to tame if you’re doing it alone.

This book is for the ones that know that there are layers to every feeling, that any tiny speck of happiness rarely comes without a tiny sliver of guilt, the outsiders, the ones buckling under the pressure of society’s expectations (or their own expectations), it’s for those who don’t have anyone they trust enough to share their stories with, those who feel so out of place that it feels as if the universe is working against them. And for those that are trying too hard to be a good friend to someone who struggles, and end up pushing them away in their misinformed attempt at helping.

In my humble attempt at persuading you to buy a copy of my book, I will share with you what made me write this in the first place.

I occasionally go searching for that terrible review that’ll crush my dream of any writing career. Squinting so heard that I can barely see – in sheer terror of what I might find – I type the title of my book into the search engine. The last time I did this, though, I was pleasantly surprised – to say the least. One might even suggest that I did the same search on a few different devices and in incognito mode before accepting the reality of the fact; three 5-star ratings on Goodreads, and two reviews that brought tears of joy (and relief) to my eyes. One of them posted by the magnificent Jess of The Next Chapter fame. You can read the reviews on Goodreads by clicking anywhere on this sentence.

My book is print on demand only (because I like trees), so if you feel like giving someone a different book for Christmas this year, you need to order it by the 5th to get it from the printer’s on time – it’s available in most countries and I’ve collected a few links for you if you click on this sentence.

The Ebook, however, is of course instantly available if you find yourself searching for something special on the day itself. I’ll include the link again here, as a lot of the outlets above offer up the electronic version as well.

Should the reviews inspire you to grab a different Christmas – or Hanukkah – gift this year, for yourself or someone you thing might need it, you have until the 5th of December to get it back from the printing press at Books on Demand in time, using the links above.

If you prefer reading your literature on an E-reader, the electronic version is cheap as chips on most platforms.

In the famous words of Skeletor: Until we meet again!

(Yes, Tuesday, as per)

Recently, big business found yet another way for consumerism to separate us from our wages, under the guise of discounts and special offers in celebration of a new (to me, at least) money making scheme/unofficial global shopping holiday; singles’ day. As far as I can tell, the tradition goes back a decade or two, as a celebration for people that are not in relationships to come together for a fun time, but I refuse to put the phrase into my search engine to find out how old this new organised shopping frenzy is. Regardless, I suspect this capitalist take on the event has been created to make room for the useless shite shops, hotels and airlines need to stock their digital shelves with for Black Friday.

I would have applauded the celebration, had it actually celebrated singlehood and single folks. It would have been great, had the offers and discounts been exclusive to those of us ‘fortunate’ enough to pay our bills by our sorry selves – living alone is bloody expensive – yet that’s of course not how it works. Not only can married/coupled folks benefit from the same singles’ day ‘offers’ as those of us sans soulmates – I even received an offer from a travel agent (that will remain unnamed) via email, where they offered me an “even better discount” if I was “travelling with a partner”. Another email explicitly said “don’t worry if you’re not single, these discounts applies to you as well, as long as you use the code XX”. What the fuck?

So, as a single person, I am expected to pay more for my flights and accommodation when I travel somewhere by myself all year around, but couples can save more on a deal – a deal that exists because of single people – than the actual single solo traveller? Why should they get my discount on the one day out of the year where businesses could have done something nice for us and let us save a few bucks on something that’s not in bulk, for once? But no. Once again, the singleton is reminded of their place in society and capitalism is the ultimate victor. Enough, already.

I get it. The economy is fucked. But that doesn’t justify screwing us over. Just because we’re used to not getting any, doesn’t mean that we’ll happily lie down and take it when offered the chance.

And with this, I find myself at what inspired my little rant today; the difference between consent and compliance. By no means do I claim to be the first person to point out the fact that there is a difference – I will gladly admit that my inspiration comes from not one but two podcasts I’ve been listening to lately (Speaking of Psychology and MissUnderstood/Sorry, I Missed This), I just found that their take on it made me see some of my past mistakes in a new light. Additionally, being able to differentiate between the two will never not be important.

If you’re missing the logical connecting step from shopping to consent here, I will list a few of the reasons why I am single (and have been for most of my life).

Non-singles and ‘normal’ singles alike tend to assume that all single folks are tirelessly and desperately looking for ‘their person’. Whilst many are doing precisely that, there are also those of us who have found the one we would like to be with, but like with many of the universe’s cruel jokes, our beloved does not be-love or even be-like us back, or they are simply in a relationship already. So me being the way I am (i.e. possibly a smidge hyperfocused on anything and everything that manages to tickle my fancy) will more often than not be inclined to wait patiently for their relationship to peter out before making a move and/or moving on. There’s a need to know if they would feel the same if they could. In short, it’s not my lacking the ability to find someone, or having impossibly high standards. Nay, for me to give up my life for a relationship, I need it to be with a person that I actually like enough for me to feel as if I’m not giving anything up at all.
It’s about the person, not the relationship. It seems a lot of people are desperate to be in a relationship. So desperate, in fact, that they suffer through physical violence and psychological warfare, prostitution, childbirth, vasectomies, you name it. They just want to show the world that someone chose them. But, did they, though? Noooooo thank you. Also, I quite like the peace and quiet. Next!
Then there’s the rejection sensitivity that comes with my ADHD, and the RSD, the misguided attempts at second guessing every move, over analysing every word, every movement, my forty years of being told that other people’s needs are far more important than my own, which incidentally has caused me to gaslight myself into thinking that compliance is consent.

As you can tell, it is probably best that I stay away from the relationship game. I have been in too many situations where I’ve felt as if I had to choose between having to deal with a negative reaction if I’d said ‘no’ or accepting the awful feeling of guilt that would come from not meeting their needs and having them hate me on top of it. There was no way I could win. Just the thought of hurting them hurt me more than the pain that they – and, to some extent, I – put me through. I’ve been too afraid to go to the police when I should have done, on more than one occasion, just because I couldn’t handle the thought of the implications it would have for my attackers. Why I didn’t think as far as what damage they would be able to do to others when they were able to walk free is beyond me – I guess I just assumed that I was the only sort of person that would deserve being treated that way. No one in their right mind would do such horrible things to someone pretty, someone nice, someone that’s worth something. But I’ve realised now, that it’s not only us uggos that get raped. Unfortunately, it seems a lot easier for people to believe the pretty ones.

Now, I’m not saying romance is dead. Quite the opposite! And I have a lot of lovely couple friends that have great relationships. I think they deserve all the love in the world. I’m just saying that on singles’ day, they can back off and leave the special offers to those of us that don’t have anyone to split the rent with. I promise not to take any of their valentine’s day thunder. And, who knows – perhaps there’s love on the cards for me as well?

Yes, I am looking at you, Michael Palin.

It’s late! We should all go to bed. But before you do, remember to buy a copy of my book – if you want it by crimbo, you’ll need to order it by the 5th of December.

Next week, I’ll write a little something about limerence. See you next Tuesday!

Tuesday is upon us, at long last. A home office workday has come to an end and the evening gig is but three hours away – just enough time for me to spew out some thoughts.

On the 27th of last month, I came to the realisation that something had to change. I needed to revamp my website, get an email address suitable for an adult female, start letting go of the things that no longer serve me (like the millions of threadbare band tees taking up space in my closet, so littered with holes they make the infamous emperor’s new clothes seem less revealing) – the time had come to fix my life. Yet, it’s taken me almost three weeks to justify shelling out the three bucks for a domain name I decided on back in 2014.

I should explain that this is not a unique event. These eureka moments occur at least thrice a year. BUT. The thing is, whenever I have thought something through, I always (almost without fail) end up overanalysing and ruminating until there’s very little left of the original idea and I’ve lost track of what was so great about it in the first place. Yet, spending hundreds of pounds in one transaction at Boots (or equivalent) doesn’t make me bat an eyelid. In fact, historically, my lack of impulse control in that department has been rather shocking.

So why – OH WHY?! – have I been unable to trust and listen to myself when I know in my gut exactly what I want and need to do (or, what I do NOT need or want, for that matter)? The need to meditate was hanging over me like a raincloud, so I ventured out on what was to become my fastest half marathon in three years, with only three Haribo Happy Cherries (my drug of choice) for sustenance and two hours worth of podcast episodes in my ears. The result? One very delighted and surprised middle-aged sweat-machine with a sore hip, fully determined to start cracking on that decade old to do list.

Incidentally, I think I cracked the code on that whole thing with the “ADHD super power”. When they mistakenly claim hyper focus, or their ability to make tough decisions when faced with potentially life-threatening scenarios, to be a super power, when in fact these symptoms are merely a conduit for the real super power; the masking of symptoms.

I got the idea from something someone said on a podcast about dyslexia and how some people would mask their difficulties by for instance learning a text by heart so that they could recite it in class, rather than reading it out. In much the same way, I taught myself to ‘take photos’ of pages in books that never spoke to me (trigonometry, anyone?), so that I could pull the images out whenever I had a test. As a defense mechanism, I effectively gave myself a photographic memory.

Perhaps I’ll write more on this next week. I haven’t decided yet. I might write about perimenopause. Either way, I’ve gone full gonzo. Gonzo With the Wind! Perhaps it is time to conclude this post.

Why menoPAUSE when you can menoFINISH, amirite? Ha. I jest. See you next Tuesday.

In the meantime, you can listen to the inimitable David Eugene Edwards and his Wovenhand on Bandcamp by clicking anywhere on this sentence.

Tag: life

A gift for those dreading the holidays

Rumination, rebranding and other disasters