2013 - A Year In Songs

I think it's fairly safe to say, with a reasonably degree of certainty, that 2013 was a ridiculous year, and not one that I would like to repeat in a hurry.

Since my last post, I've had a couple of weeks to reflect on the last year, and to think about the next one.  Or current one, I guess. I'm not going to make resolutions as such, other than to look after myself better.  

Yesterday, I spent the day shopping and cooking, two things that a year ago would terrify me.  In the evening, I looked at YouTube to find a soundtrack to accompany my chilli and pastry making, and this got me thinking about the music that has got me through 2013.  So, I'm going to share my top "songs to get me through" with you. 

(All song title links lead to YouTube videos - please let me know if they don't work.  And don't judge my terrible taste in music - blame my ipod!)
  
1.  P!nk, Perfect (January 2013) *PG - this song has swears in it*
I started 2013 pretty much hating everything about me.  I was fat, I had weird hair, my job made me miserable, I spent all of my Christmas holidays revising and still only just scraped a pass in my exams...  I'd been given the P!nk Greatest Hits album for Christmas, so that was the CD that had taken residence in the CD player in my car.  This song was pretty much stuck on repeat, in the attempt to convince myself that someone, somewhere, might believe I wasn't as horrendous as I thought I was.  I would sit in the car at the end of the day and just listen to this on repeat whilst crying over my "terrible life".  What a difference a year makes, hey?!

"...Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than f***ing perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're f***ing perfect to me..."

(P!nk, Perfect)

2.  Emeli Sande, Read All About It (part iii) (February 2013)
This song was a huge inspiration when I was preparing for my trip to the United Nations in February.  On the flight out to New York, I listened to this song on repeat as the enormity of what I was about to do started to sink in.  This was one of the songs that really got me through on the days when I was so overwhelmed by the whole experience that all I wanted to do was curl up and cry.  But I didn't, and that is partly thanks to this song.

"... You've got a heart as loud as lions
So why let your voice be tamed?
Maybe we're a little different
There's no need to be ashamed..."

(Emeli Sande, Read All About It)

3.  Break The Chain (March 2013)

This song was written for the "One Billion Rising" campaign to end violence against women and girls, through which events took place globally on 14th February 2013.  As one of our actions at the UN, we did a flash mob to this song at the launch of the WAGGGS "Voices Against Violence" syllabus, and I still can't listen to it without trying to do the dance!  The opening lines make me cry, as this song really expresses how I was feeling at the time in a way that I just couldn't.

"...I raise my arms to the sky
On my knees I pray
I’m not afraid anymore
I will walk through that door..."

(One Billion Rising, Break the Chain)

4.  Take That, Shine (April 2013)

 I don't particularly love this song, but it was a regular in my weekly aquafit class.  On the day I realised I needed to leave my job, I spent the whole class trying not to cry.  When this song started to play, my friend and I looked at each other and just started laughing.  There is one line in particular that just fit with where I was at...

"...Stop being so hard on yourself
It's not good for your health
I know that you can change..."

(Take That, Shine)  

I raise my arms to the sky
On my knees I pray
I’m not afraid anymore
I will walk through that door - See more at: http://2013.onebillionrising.org/blog/we-have-an-anthem#sthash.to5Q28fz.dpuf

I raise my arms to the sky
On my knees I pray
I’m not afraid anymore
I will walk through that door - See more at: http://2013.onebillionrising.org/blog/we-have-an-anthem#sthash.to5Q28fz.dpuf

5.  Eva Cassidy, Bridge Over Troubled Water (May 2013)

 The Simon and Garfunkel version of this song has been part of my whole life, and it's my "go to" feel good song.  The Eva Cassidy version is the one I have on my ipod and was on constant repeat while I was writing my dissertation.  This was the last piece of work I had to do to finish of my Masters degree, and since I wasn't working, I could really focus on it to achieve something I never thought I would do!

"...Sail on silvergirl,
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way..."

(Eva Cassidy, Bridge Over Troubled Water)

6. P!nk feat. Nate Reuss, Just Give Me a Reason (June 2013)

 This song doesn't really relate to any particular event in June.  I don't really remember why, but I listened to it a lot! 

"... Oh, tear ducts can rust
I'll fix it for us
We're collecting dust
But our love's enough
You're holding it in
You're pouring a drink
No nothing is as bad as it seems..."

(P!nk feat. Nate Reuss, Just Give Me a Reason)

7. Natasha Bedingfield, Freckles (July 2013)

July.  I had just started my new job, and this song became my "walking to work" song - it's ok to be "different", I don't need to be "perfect", and I was fully capable of doing this thing called life.  There may have been a few blips since then (see August!), but this song reminds me that I don't need to hate my body quite so much, and am starting to be happy just being me.

"...'cause a face without freckles is like a sky without stars
Why waste a second not loving who you are..."

8. Gabrielle Aplin, Please Don't Say You Love Me (August 2013)

 August was a horrible month.  I took a massive leap in the wrong direction, my head was all over the place, and the "Big D" was back.  One night, the night of pizza and wine, I bought Gabrielle Aplin's album on a whim, and this song just stuck - I couldn't love myself, so how could I expect anyone else to? 

"...And fools rush in
And I've been the fool before
This time I'm gonna slow it down
'Cause I think this could be more..."

(Gabrielle Aplin, Please Don't Say You Love Me)

9. Gabrielle Aplin, Keep on Walking (September 2013)
This album has been on repeat in my car since I bought it in August.  For me, this song resonates in a very metaphorical way.  By September, I was really starting to get into the really difficult part of my counselling, and dealing with things that have been stored in boxes in the back of my head for many many years.  After the huge downhill slide in August, this song really helped me to see that, actually, I needed to go through the difficult things, the metaphorical bruises would heal in time, and I started to accept that eventually I would feel better.

"...But all that glitters is not gold
From the bruises flowers grow 

I feel so much better now you’re not around
There’s no one to kick me while I’m down..." 

(Gabrielle Aplin, Keep On Walking) 

10. Miley Cyrus, Wrecking Ball (October 2013)
I have a massive love-hate relationship with this song, and I nearly didn't include it in my list because of the issues I have with the video.  However, before the controversy kicked off, and before I'd seen the video, this song really fit with where I was in October.  I spent a lot of this month trying to deal with the relationship between food and my relationships with people, and the decisions I made while I was at university (for the first time round) as a result of these relationships.  I had been very much a one-woman wrecking ball, stuck in self-destruction mode, and this song helped me realise that I'm not that person any more.

          

"...I came in like a wrecking ball
Yeah, I just closed my eyes and swung
Left me crashing in a blazing fall
All you ever did was wreck me
Yeah, you, you wreck me..."

(Miley Cyrus, Wrecking Ball)

 
11.  Handel, Zadok the Priest (November 2013)
November was really busy and pretty stressful, with weekends filled with travelling and very little down time.  When I'm stressed, I like to listen to classical music, and my ipod decided Handel was the way to go.  I love the introduction and the build up to the choral entry, and conducting along makes the stress disappear!  

 

12.  Meatloaf, Paradise by the Dashboard Light (December 2013)
I didn't know this was on my ipod until December, when it played every time I listened to a random shuffle.  I love Meatloaf, and I love Patti Russo in the female role - she knows exactly what she wants and she's not afraid to say no.  It's such a powerful song, and just makes me smile!   

"...Stop right there!
I gotta know right now!
Before we go any further!
Do you love me?"

(Meatloaf, Paradise by the Dashboard Light)   

So there you go.  My 2013 soundtrack.  Looking at it in writing, 2013 was definitely ridiculous (and incredibly cheesy!)  Hopefully 2014 will be a lot less of both! 

What would you have on your 2013 soundtrack?

Little Girl, Found

For various reasons, I haven't posted a blog post for months. Other than the fact I've been ridiculously busy, I've just not felt it.

I've written lots of things. I've even started to write a book. But I wasn't ready to share any of it with the world.

Tonight, however, I am drawing a line under 2013 and the fear that came with the unknown and the hidden memories that I wasn't prepared to deal with until recently.

Tonight, after 15 months, I will be seeing my counsellor for the very last time.

I don't know what to say now. I guess I don't know what to expect. Maybe I've forgotten something important, some repressed memory, that will one day jump out to surprise me and push me straight back to square one.

Or maybe I'll be ok.

Who knows?

I suppose no-one really knows, do they? Otherwise where would be the fun? We can make plans and assess risks as much as we like but, as a wise woman once said to me, whatever happens is going to happen for a reason. Plans are good, but things rarely go to plan. You just have to learn to go with it.

I'm talking in clichés again. Sorry.

So I suppose what I'm trying to say is this is me. This is where I'm at. Am I ready to let go of my safety net? Absolutely not. But is there ever going to be a better time to let go? No.

Letting go is hard and scary, but I have two choices. I can cling on to this, and the reminder of all the negative things, or I can let go, knowing that I am never going to be in this exact place at this exact time ever again in my life.

So tonight I am letting go. Letting go of little girl, lost.

At this moment, I am little girl, found.

Onwards and upwards.

(OK, enough of the clichés. I'm done now).

World Mental Health Day

Today is World Mental Health Day. I don't know who decided that 10th October would be the day we think about mental health. Maybe it's because, here in the northern hemisphere at least, it's the start of winter; a time when many of us start to really feel the strain of dealing with a mental health issue. Or maybe it was the only day that wasn't already the international day of something or other.

Either way, today it is.

And so today, I am thinking about my own mental health.

Perhaps, before I get too deep into the grey cloud, I should remind you where I have come from. Earlier this year, I had an epiphany, got a tattoo and accepted my 10 year relationship with a black hole, quit my job, rediscovered a bit of me I forgot existed (the part of me that is actually a valid human being, rather than just a shell of one filled with self deprecation and pent up stress), found a new job (which I love, by the way) and finished an MSc.

Long story short, I have depression. But this year I have realised that although I have it, it doesn't have to define me. Just like my eyes and hair and hips and boobs and tummy and brain and everything else individually do not define me. ‎It's just another part of who I am.

So it is probably fitting that I have spent the last hour sitting in a counsellors room (in the foetal position through choice rather than necessity) having another epiphany, which I would like to share with you.

Over a year ago, I started to see a counsellor for, what I thought would be, a 12 week stint of 'fixing'. First thing I learnt - it is impossible to fix a lifetime's worth of problems.

My counsellor is lovely, but it took me a long time to just be able to speak. By about 10 weeks in, we started to realise that maybe I would benefit from a few more sessions. Then Christmas happened and he went away for 6 weeks.

January 2013, back to square one, but with a lot more awareness of just how many problems I have. By now I could at least speak. But the more I spoke, the more the problems came, faster than either of us could deal with all at once. It was beginning to feel like maybe this process wasn't working when I headed off to the UN for two weeks.

Cue epiphany. 

The problem with having an epiphany is the initial burst of energy/ motivation which is eventually followed by a cloud of self doubt.

And so ‎f‎ast-forward 6 months.

‎Today, I realised that a lot of my issues are interlinked and repetitive. Without boring you with the gory details, my negative opinions of myself, my relationship with food, and my very unhealthy relationships with people are not, infact, separate issues. They're all related.

When I feel good about myself, when I'm happy and let myself be me, and don't let myself take the downs too seriously.  I let myself eat. I want to eat. And I want to spend time with people because I enjoy their company, ‎not because I feel I 'should' or because they might give me the attention I can't give myself. 

I think many of you just face-palmed. No shit, right?

But maybe some of you know what I'm saying. It's very hard to feel good about yourself, to let yourself be happy, when you don't eat (for fear of what food might do to you, or of getting it wrong, or simply because the effort of having to make yet another decision is just too big and overwhelming and exhausting) and don't let other people in to help (for fear of judgement, or of getting it wrong, or simply because the effort of having to act like everything is ok is just too big and overwhelming ‎and exhausting). 

Unfortunately, sometimes that fear is so huge, that the 'simple' act of eating or seeing a friend becomes such a chore it's easier just not to. And there begins the slippery slope. 

So now that I've made the (seemingly obvious) connection, what am I going to do about it?

Right now, nothing. I'm going to get out of the safety of my car, walk up four flights of stairs to my flat, give my lovely boyfriend a hug and thank him for being here, and then I will ask what's for dinner. And if there is no plan, we'll buy (another) takeaway. 

Surely it's better to just eat something than to eat nothing at all, right?

Tea

Tea is a wonderful thing.

A good cup of tea on a rainy day can make the world just a little bit brighter.

Whenever I travel, wherever I am in the world, a good cup of tea can bring me back home, even just for a few minutes.

Tea can mend broken bodies at the end of a hard day, and broken hearts at the end of a relationship.

What more do you need at the weekend than a friend, a plate of biscuits and a good cup of tea?

Tea may be the real nectar of the gods.

So when my cup of tea let me down, I'm sure you can understand my devastation.

This is my story.

Mornings can be a dangerous  time in my house if I've not yet had a cup of tea. 

It was a Thursday morning. A particularly perilous day as I rush to get ready for a counseling session (not something to look forward to first thing in the morning) followed by a day at work and my return to aquafit (dangerous at the best of times, but no less if you haven't done any exercise for 3 months)‎.

Ten minutes late getting out of bed. Off to a bad start. I can't find my swimming kit. This is unhelpful, but I'm going to have to stop looking and accept defeat. No exercise for another week.

Finally, my morning cup of tea. Ingredients: A large, white pint mug, caringly 'acquired' for me by a university friend (he flirted with the coffee guy)‎. PG tips. Soya milk. Hot water. In that order.

I settle down on the sofa to check my emails, laptop carefully balanced on one knee, cup of tea cradled lovingly in my lap.

All of a sudden, I feel a pain in my leg. There is tea everywhere, burning through my pyjamas, scalding me for not paying it the attention it rightfully deserves.

And before I acknowledge the pain, I notice my laptop. Drowning. Suddenly, my cup of tea is the enemy. My loyalty is torn. 

Slowly, carefully, I lower the offending item to the floor and carefully wipe milky tea from the keyboard, praying to the gods of technology that it will survive this traumatising ordeal. What will I do with no access to Facebook, emails, the outside world?!‎

My cup of tea has failed me. My laptop still functions, but only just. As long as I don't need the letters m, v or b. Or the space bar. 

So dear reader, take heed of my advice. A cup of tea can save your life. But it should not be combined with the morning rush and your laptop.

Recovery

Dear Diary

I've been trying to write this post for the last three weeks, ever since the day I handed in my dissertation.  But try as I might, I just couldn't work it out.  Something wasn't right.  No, nothing was right.  I'd lost the ability to do words.

You see, no-one told me that the hard part of finishing a degree wasn't the dissertation.  It was the recovery period that follows it.  I never thought to ask.

For months, I'd spent every evening, weekend and spare minute at lunch time thinking about my dissertation - about what I needed to write, about what the graphs and tables should look like, about how to format it, and about how to thank everyone who'd helped me with the process.  And then, all of a sudden, it was all gone.  No longer could I hide away in the library or squirreled away in my sofa-nest of blankets and journal articles.  I was expected to return to the world as a "normal" person, to be able to pick up where I left off - a time when I couldn't use my dissertation as an excuse for being permanently exhausted and just a little bit distracted.

The problem was, I'd forgotten what that was like.  Without warning, an empty space had appeared and "free time" had reared its ugly head. 

"Free time" and I don't really get on very well.  I don't trust it and I don't know what to do with it.  I live in constant fear that I've forgotten to do something, and that someone is going to come looking for it, forcing me to find an excuse for not doing it.

So the past three weeks have been just a bit empty.  I guess the reason I've avoided blogging is because I didn't want to have to tell you that, actually, I was feeling a bit crap. 

I spent a lovely three days "doing the Festival" with a friend from school (yes, I'm very aware that I promised you reviews and observations of the Fringe, and that hasn't happened.  They'll come, eventually), and it was great to have her here.  But apart from that, I've just been a bit lost.

While I was busy avoiding real life, I failed to notice was that the elephants in my head were secretly growing, hiding being my dissertation getting ready to pounce when I least expected it.  Have you ever seen an elephant pounce?  I understand they're generally not known for the element of surprise, but the elephants in my head are different.  They're sneaky.

To cut a long story short, the "lost" became "miserable", which became "depressed".  Although I still see myself as "having depression", I've not been "depressed" for ages.  So when I realised that was how I was feeling, it hit me a lot harder than before.  The problem with discovering emotions is that I now feel stuff, and that can hurt.

The hurting, as the result of thinking, as the result of not having a distraction any more, all came to a head two weeks ago - a Saturday.  I spent the day at a training session for Girlguiding Trainers, up in Stirling.  On the way home, I began to think.  Thinking and driving can be dangerous - I found myself in Glasgow, which is definitely not on the right side of Scotland for me to be a) not concentrating, b) feeling miserable, and c) exhausted. 

As I dragged myself across the M8, I realised that I didn't want to be there.  I didn't really want to be anywhere.  And I particularly didn't want to be at home.  These new-found emotions were confusing, and I didn't know how to deal with them.  I was scared, and I needed to find a way out.

Since starting to see a counsellor, I've found ways to deal with feelings that don't involve crying and retreating into myself.  So, I looked for options.  What I came up with was possibly not the best advice for anyone feeling the same way:

1.  Talk to someone.  Find a friend - except at 6.30 on a Saturday night in the middle of August people generally have plans.  I didn't want to interrupt them.  And I was probably miserable enough without having to drag myself off to the crisis centre or to call the Samaritans and be patronised for the rest of the evening.

2.  Alcohol.  For various reasons, mostly naivety and stupidity, alcohol has get me into some pretty ridiculous situations in the past, so I don't really drink a lot.  But I do like red wine, and sometimes it just takes the edge off.

3.  Pizza.  For the record, I'm aware this sounds like a bizarre "way out", but bear in mind I'm quite severely lactose intolerant - half a dairy milk bar makes my face erupt, and you don't need (or want) to know about the other side effects. 

I found my respite in Sainsburys.  I hate supermarkets, especially on a Saturday night.  If you have nothing better to do on a Saturday night than go to Sainsburys, you need to get a new hobby.  But you can guarantee that there will at least be other people there, making it a "safe place".  And Sainsburys sells both wine and pizza.  Double win.

My poor attempt to make myself feel better by giving myself a hangover and some particularly unhappy dairy-induced-side-effects pretty much failed.  Mostly because I fell asleep after the first large glass of wine and woke up on the sofa at 3am.  As angry as I was with myself at the time ("I can't even do miserable right"), I'm glad this is the way it worked out.   

I guess what this has shown me is that life isn't always happy all the time.  Sometimes, it's spectacularly rubbish.  But learning to accept that, and being able to question why we react in the way we do, is the first  step to making it a bit less rubbish. 

I've spent the last two weeks letting myself feel rubbish, but the difference between this time and the previous ten years of feeling rubbish is that I was aware I felt rubbish, and I was aware of why.

Today, I'm done feeling rubbish.  I've had words with the elephants and they've shrunk just a little bit.  I've filled my "free time" with friends and Guiding and books and all of the other things I've neglected over the past six months (except washing up.  I'm not that desperate).  I've started eating vegetables again, and I'm looking forward to not having to do any more studying.  At least for now.

So that's my excuse for neglecting you over the past few weeks.  I'm not going to apologise for my disappearance - it's just a thing I needed to do.  But now I've stopped feeling sorry for myself and hopefully normal service will resume. 

*grins*

Rosy x

Rosy Burgess, BSc (Hons)... MSc...??

When I was 17, in my penultimate year of Higher Education, I was told I had to start applying for university.  There was no real discussion about what I wanted to do with my life, or where I wanted to go.  It had always just been assumed that I would go to university and get a degree which would get me a good job.

At 17, I had absolutely no idea.  I thought I might like to go travelling, to volunteer in Africa for a while, to explore the world.  But I was told that this wasn't an option.  That if I took a gap year, I'd be throwing away my education and would find it really hard to get back in later on.  And I accepted that.

I accepted being told that I had to go to a top twenty ranked university.  So of course I compared that list with a map, and pinpointed the six universities that were furthest away from home.  If I wasn't allowed to travel, I might as well get as far away as I could, even if it was within someone else's limitations.  Despite being told this was not a good reason for picking a university, I couldn't see any other reasons or way to decide, so this would have to do.

Long story short, I ended up getting the A and two B's in my A-levels, needed to accept a place at the University of Edinburgh (at the time ranking in the top 10; now ranking number 18).  So on 11th September 2005, I jumped in the car, my belongings in the boot, ready to head off on what people told me would be the biggest adventure of my life so far.  After getting out again to say goodbye to my family, I finally settled down for the five hour drive, with my dad, up to my new home.  Although I wasn't allowed to call it home.  Home was in Wales.  Edinburgh was just where I went to university.

Fast forward four years to June 2009.  I had survived first year - depression, anorexia, only just scraped through exams, didn't really know anyone I felt comfortable with; Second year - got promoted to Bar Supervisor, met some people I'm still friends with, just about scraped through exams; Third year - moved in with an awesome flat-mate, got promoted again, felt more comfortable around people, met the boy who is still my boyfriend, did slightly better in exams; Fourth year - moved house again, realised I hated being outside (a problem for someone doing an Ecology degree, which I was), messed up my dissertation and final exams (apparently slating the subject you are studying in your final exam is generally frowned upon), graduated with a 2.2, knew I never wanted to see trees or grass ever again. 

Basically, looking back, I'm about 98% certain my undergraduate degree was a complete waste of time. 

So when I decided in August 2011 that I was going to take on an MSc, I was determined this time to do better.  I'm not stupid, I could totally get a distinction.  And this time it was on my terms.  None of this top-twenty rated nonsense.  I wanted to go somewhere where I felt like a real person, where tutors knew my name and I wasn't just a statistic.  I also wanted to go somewhere I knew had a good reputation for the course I wanted to study.  And this is how I ended up at Edinburgh Napier University (currently ranking at number 98 in the UK, if you really care).

Today, I have become a lot more realistic about my own abilities and my expectation of myself.  Ok, maybe I could have got a distinction.  If I hadn't been working full time, been to the UN HQ in New York to represent WAGGGS, been battling major depression and the resultant months of counselling...  So now I'm not expecting a distinction.  Infact, even if I only just scrape a pass it will be enough (as long as I get more than the 53% I got for my undergraduate dissertation).  Knowing that I made the decision to come back to studying, at a time in my life knowing it wouldn't be great, and that I stuck with it, that is enough.  Having a Masters degree is something I never thought four years ago that I would ever achieve.  So to have come through it so spectuacularly (I'm thinking a bit like a bull in a china shop) is a huge achievement.

And this time round, it doesn't matter that I know I don't want to work in the field relating to my degree.  That's almost not the point.  I survived, I don't feel guilty and I have a job.  And soon, hopefully, I will be able to call myself Rosy Burgess, BSc (Hons), MSc.  If I want to.  Which I don't.  

I do still want to go travelling though.

--
NB.  There's nothing wrong with the University of Edinburgh.  I am really proud to have studied there and to be part of the alumni.  I just prefer Napier. 

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

You may or may not know that I live in Edinburgh. This beautiful peaceful city in stone-throwing distance from the sea and close enough to the country that I can see it from my bedroom window (living on the fourth floor does have its benefits!)

This is the magical city which, for most of the year, reminds me of an old bear that's consumed slightly too much caffeine - a bit slow but buzzing and not really sure what to do with itself.

And then August happens. The bear suddenly forgets its age, brushes off the cobwebs and replaces its lattes with jaegerbombs. And it brings all of its friends with it. The festival has started.

Edinburgh has about nine million festivals throughout the year, but none of them compare even remotely with the fringe. What started out as the younger brother of the festivals, bumbling along trying to be cool and artsy and a bit alternative, has become a massive event in its own right.

This year is the first year since moving to Edinburgh that I've been in the city and not been working in one of the main fringe venues. It's been a bit weird knowing that somewhere in my city there were posters, stages, even a big purple cow, but I've not been part of it.

I've missed the weeks of preparation, the mad panic to make sure there are enough people in the right places, to order and unpack thousands of crates of wine and kegs of beer. The long nights of setting up pop up bars and theatres, and the mass influx of thousands and thousands of people. This year it's all sort of snuck up on me.

I quite like it!

But I love the festival, and I’m really excited about being part of it as an 'outsider'.

And since I've started this blog, I figured I can share my experiences with you. So keep an eye open for my reviews and observations, and if you're in Edinburgh, share your stories - tell me what you think, what you've seen, and what you absolutely wouldn't see again!