Chill out mate

16th Feb 202016th Feb 2020 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Thankfully this week was a lot nicer, and a lot less stressful than the last.

My last blog was obviously a huge rant, but it might surprise you to know that after writing it, the situation didn’t bother me much. Instances such as the one with that delightful traffic warden aren’t that big of a deal for me because they kind of happen all the time. That being said, it’s never a highlight.

I’m pretty sure that the main contributor to my terrible week was just being ill, and it’s only when the illness leaves that you can realise just how much being full of cold can mess with your state of mind. Already feeling run-down, I was just overwhelmed by everything piling on top of me.

For years now I’ve been so excited about going to University and what it would bring to my life. Plus, I’ve always been pretty independent and self-sufficient so I thought that I would be absolutely fine once I actually moved. And all in all, I am absolutely fine and love it. But I do think that there’s a lot to be said for just how difficult starting University really is.

Not only have I moved to a totally new place, but I’m experiencing so many more pressures than I could have ever envisaged. One of the most stress-inducing being the academic pressures of my course. I mean I’m taking a degree in a language that I’ve never had any exposure to, and I really really struggle with not being good at something. First world problems, I know.

I’ve been telling myself that I’m really bad at Japanese when I stumble over translation or spontaneous speech, and have already cried in frustration at least a handful of times. But in these moments all I’m thinking about is why I can’t remember everything straight away, and I really beat myself up about it. But Japanese isn’t like French, and I need to fully accept that I’m not going to get it straight away, because on a base level: it’s just proper difficult.

I like to think that I’m a pretty self-aware person, so whenever I’m having these explosions of stress and exhaustion I know exactly what to attribute it to. I know when I’m tired, or stressed, or upset about some boy, or am emotionally volatile because I’m ill or on my period, or am missing home. I know that I work really hard, and that it’s okay for me to not understand everything straight away. But no matter how self-aware I am about why I’m being a cry baby, I also know just how stubborn I am.

It’s obvious that I need to not beat myself up about things, but it’s also really clear to me that I always will: I’m just wired that way. People talk a lot about bettering themselves in some sort of self-care scheme, and those schemes are clearly very worthwhile in many instances. But I also think that people should probably talk a little bit more about the parts of themselves that they don’t necessarily like, know aren’t good for them, but know are parts that they could never get rid of.

If I removed my strive for perfection and work ethic, then I just wouldn’t work as hard. And yes, sometimes I wouldn’t be as exhausted or as emotionally wound-up, but I’d also be bored out of my mind because I wouldn’t be doing anything. You can’t really have one without the other.

Plus, this intense part of my personality doesn’t just pop up when I’m in academic settings, it rears its head in my relationships with people. I just care a lot about everything.

I try really hard to always be kind and loving to those around me. Yes, sometimes it ends in unfortunate emotions, but most of the time it helps me to be surrounded by incredible people. And luckily, some of those people are there for the times when I get overwhelmed and just need someone to rant to, give me a big hug and tell me to stop being dumb. *shout-out for Richard last week, thanks buddy xo*

Sometimes I’m stupidly mean to myself…and I should try to not waste my energy like that.

Walk it

9th Feb 202010th Feb 2020 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

So here I am: it’s Tuesday, I’m full of whatever illness my friends at college have gifted me and I’ve somehow been bothered to make it to my 2 hour Korean lesson. The day’s going well. (This blog is going to be pretty emotionally-charged by the way: strap in).

What I didn’t need added to my day, was some old, male, traffic warden peering through my windscreen whilst I was STILL IN MY CAR, to check if my disabled badge was a fraud. For the record, it’s weird and intimidating to have a stranger looking inside your car whilst you’re still in there. But the core of my annoyance, was the fact that I’m sick and tired of the disabled parking bays situation.

Now, if you aren’t disabled, or don’t have any close relatives or friends who are, then you might be thinking: what situation? Is there even a situation?

Well, my dear reader, yes there bloody well is a situation. And it’s one that has made my parents furious for years before me, but now I also have the joy of being angered by it too. Lucky me!

So it’s simple, right? You go to any public space and most of the time there are parking bays with bright yellow hatching, and the universally recognised symbol for disability. Everyone knows that that then marks those parking bays as exclusively for people who need it i.e. ones who own a blue badge issued by the government, indicating that they’re legally recognised as disabled. I won’t go too into it now, but trust me when I say that you don’t just get that badge. You have to undergo what is in my experience, an insanely gruelling, somewhat traumatising process so as to be recognised by the government as ‘eligible’ for it. But I’ll write a blog detailing that process another day- look forward to that one, it’s a corker.

Anyway: you need a disabled badge to park in the space closest to the destination, seen as it’s predominantly the people who’re disabled who’re unable to access things and places easily. Surprise!

Why is it then that when my dad dropped me off at Secondary school, on average only 2 out of about 8 disabled bays had cars with blue badges in them? One of which was my dad’s car. With my badge. I’d also like to add the information that my school was attached to a Special Needs school: attended by children with severe disabilities, whose parents probably needed to use those parking spaces when picking them up.

Why is it that this also happens every time I go to a supermarket, a shop, or just anywhere really? Why did I have to ask the receptionist at my University college today – a college which prides itself on diversity and acceptance – to ask the woman who uses a bay every week and doesn’t display a badge, to please park somewhere else?

You might wonder why this is so offensive to me. Or, like the traffic warden, think me ‘silly’ for even being offended by it. (His patronising choice of words really added to the moment, I must say).

It’s offensive because when people park in these spaces, they’re not thinking of how insanely immoral and unfair what they’re doing is. Those spaces are for people who literally need them. People who can’t walk that extra few steps to the building. People who need equipment to move and to live. People who have in recent years had to fight so hard, just to be deemed ‘eligible’ by the government for things that they need to survive.

If you park in those bays when you don’t need to, then you’re depriving a disabled person of their right to get on with their life and to be independent. I’m not always in a wheelchair, and on the surface it appears that I walk pretty well, but if I can’t park in those bays then I might have to walk a distance which will cause me to develop an infection, and to go in a wheelchair for months on end. So if that’s what’s at stake for me, then think about the people who’re wheelchair bound and what that space might mean to them.

Again, this might sound like an overreaction, but trust me when I say that it’s not.

It’s not just the walking distance, it’s also the backlash that comes from people abusing those spaces. Namely, the fact that it creates a culture of doubt. If those spaces were respected, then I wouldn’t have had some old man looking into my car to see if I was lying today. I wouldn’t have had him looking me in the eyes in disbelief as to why I was asking him not to do that. He told me that he was checking the disabled badge ‘for’ me: to ‘help’ me. I obviously understand why he checks, but I resent the fact that he thought I would lie.

So I appeal to you, to think about your actions and to just park somewhere else. Just walk those extra steps. Not just because you have the physical ability to do it, but also because I would never ask for something that I don’t need. I don’t abuse the system, in fact I probably don’t use it enough. But I need to park there. And I’m tired of defending my right to that space.

The girls’ bathroom

2nd Feb 202030th Nov 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

When speaking to boys, sometimes there comes a point in the conversation when they ask me why the bloody hell girls go to the toilet together. And, once we’re in there, why’ve we got to take so long?

The most obvious answer is that we get to have a chat – and it’s quicker to cram loads of you in there, so you can go straight after each other whilst chatting… So yes, often we chat about stupid things, like how we’ve spotted a really fit boy and need to give each other a pep-talk before someone tries it on with him when we leave the bathroom. But then sometimes the conversations can take a whole other direction.

I’ve been in bathrooms and spoken with girls where they’ve confided in me about some really dark stuff. I’ve had separate girls tell me that they have an eating disorder they’ve never told anyone about, that they’re struggling with their mental health, and one even told me that she was in an abusive relationship. It’s in the safety and privacy of the girls’ toilets, that we get to be completely honest with each other and confess things that we may have been scared to tell anyone in any other environment.

Even though there will inevitably be someone shouting and banging on the cubicle door for those inside to ‘hurry up, I NEED A WEE’ in the background, we pass toilet roll over or under the cubicle dividers, try to speed up, and give that emotionally vulnerable female the attention she needs. And doing that is so important.

The ways in which women and girls regularly share their feelings with each other, has been subject to a lot of mockery throughout time. But whilst some of the conversations might be cringey, convoluted, drunken ‘I love yous’ and ‘you’re the best friend ever’, even those silly moments help set up a space of mutual love and trust. Yes, women can back-stab and b**** about each other, but there’s also this indescribably close bond that builds between a group of girls – and it’s conversations like those we have in the bathroom which help contribute to that.

I’m not saying that we exclusively cry and have ‘deep’ conversations when we go to the toilet, because sometimes we do the opposite. Sometimes we cram a group of us into one cubicle, only for someone to do some impressive and moderately dangerous acrobatics on the toilet seat to make everyone else laugh. Other times, we just go to de-sweat from dancing.

But then on the most serious end of the scale, the girls’ bathroom can act as a sanctuary or panic room for some girls.

There have been times in my life where I’ve gone on nights out and I’ve had groups of boys try to cut me off from the rest of my group. I’ve had friends who’ve had their drinks spiked. I, and many of my friends, have had physical contact we didn’t ask for or want. One time I was actually hit on my bum – right on the spot where all of the nerves which would allow me to have feeling in my feet are in a knot. So that slap caused me to not only feel violated and publicly humiliated, but it put me into excruciating pain for a few minutes – imagine someone dropping 2 weights on both of your feet at the same time. That’s what it feels like when the lump on my back is hit.

So in those times, girls know that they can go to the girls’ bathroom and that they’re less likely to be followed or trapped. There’ll be a huge group of more females there able to help or protect them. They can call someone from their phone to come help, or they can even call the police.

I adore men. I have so many men in my life who are some of the most amazing, caring and sensitive people on the planet. I know that when they hear of mine and my female friends’ experiences like this, they’re appalled and in disbelief because they would never do anything like that. But unfortunately, these things still happen, and they happen all the time. Often men just don’t notice when it does because they’ve never really had to worry whether they’ll be on the receiving end of it, so their radar for it is simply not on the same frequency.

That girls’ bathroom is so much more to women and girls than a place to cry about someone not texting us back. We need and cherish that space for our physical and emotional well-being.

Even if only for someone to dry your tears, tell you you look hot and to get back out there.

Like a virgin

12th Jan 2020 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

This week I want to talk about the one thing that FILLS the minds of people of all ages, especially those around my age and younger: sex – more specifically, losing your virginity.

It’s a big topic since everyone’s sex life is such a huge deal in today’s society. People put so much pressure on when and how they should lose their virginity, that the act itself is made out to be this big, momentous, personality-shaping, potentially life-ruining moment. To a large extent, I agree that the details of when and how you have sex for the first time are massively important, but not for the same reasons society forces us to believe.

First of all, I don’t believe that there’s a ‘right’ age to do it (except past the legal age obviously). Whenever you choose to have sex, as long as you’re both safe, able to change your minds and feel ready, then so what if you’ve known each other for years or for hours? There’s no need to build it up to be this moment where you need to have been in a relationship for years, on some romantic weekend away, with rose petals on the bed. Let’s be frank, for most people it’s kind of messy and uncomfortable and anticlimactic. Oh, and for most girls, it hurts like a B**** (!) for the first time: yeah, they don’t mention that bit in the movies, do they?

Also boys/girls (but mainly boys): if the girl bleeds, then just be a nice guy and don’t freak out about it. You may not have known that sometimes that happens (and that it’s tOtally normal) but equally, the girl might have had no idea either and your reaction will be a big deal in how she feels about it and herself – both at the time and afterwards. Speaking from experience, the boy I lost my virginity to wasn’t a saint in how he treated me overall, but when I bled he didn’t care one bit so neither did I – if you’re reading this buddy, thanks for that. Xx

Having worked at a girls’ school and just generally being surrounded by people, it’s clear to me that popular culture’s airbrushed narrative of sex and the loss of a person’s virginity is toxic for the individual. You have girls and boys with these unrealistic notions of what sex is going to be like, ultimately ending with disappointment when their reality doesn’t match what they expected. I have so many friends who’ve felt like they nEEded to lose their virginity before University, or in the first week, just so they didn’t have to carry the shame of not being experienced in that area. Sex is a super intimate thing to do with someone, and like everything, you get better with practice.

Personally, I don’t have anything against one-night stands – hey, if you’ve got an itch to scratch, then do you (!safely!) – but I very strongly believe that they should NOT happen through someone being ashamed of being a virgin. That shouldn’t even come into play.

So, if you’re reading this as a virgin, then please don’t force yourself to rush into it just because you think you need to, and don’t expect it to be perfect! I mean, I lost my virginity at 17, but at 20 I’m still yet to thoroughly enJOY sex because, fun fact: it takes a lot of females years of being sexually active and a few sexual partners to get the full experience we all hear so much about. So if you’re in that position too, then it’s cool man, you’re not the only one. Plus, just because you don’t have an orgasm doesn’t mean that it’s not fun.

If you’re over the legal age, feel ready, and are safe (in every way), then you’re good to go. But if you aren’t ALL 3 of those things- even if just 1 of them isn’t right- then like I told my Year 11 girls who asked me about this when I was a Teaching Assistant, the braver and more worthwhile thing to do is just wait until you can tick all 3 of those boxes. Looking after yourself is a l w a y s a good idea, especially when it comes to sex – and that goes for e v e r y o n e.

Losing your virginity might be a bit of a flop orgasm-wise, but as far as I’m concerned sex should always just be fun. So do it with someone that you like and feel good around – that way, it’d be hard not to enjoy it.

A n d u s e p r o t e c t i o n k i d s !

2019

29th Dec 201930th Dec 2019 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

2019 has been the most influential year of my life, and it’s one that I’ll remember until I’m an old disabled lady, sitting in a comfy bed, complaining about the state of young people and their antics. Though, I kind of hope that I won’t do that last bit…unless it’s ironically…

Nepal was my first insight into what absolute bliss feels like. My favourite memory (of many) is sitting in a small pagoda in front of the monastery, on the side of a mountain, hidden by the jungle, as the sun was setting. I remember stroking the puppy sitting on my knee, 4 other dogs at my feet, and listening to the children singing their prayer in the temple to the background noise of all the other wildlife. I’m not religious at all, and I’m not really a spiritual person, but in that moment I completely understood why those monks chose to spend their lives in spaces such as that, away from the noise of the modern world. And no, I didn’t record it, since no recording on any device would’ve been able to capture it- but it’s always going to be in my head.

South Korea re-ignited my love for the Far East, and showed me that I can manage my disability on that side of the planet after all. The biggest indicator of this being the fact that I successfully spoke (broken) Korean in A&E of a hospital in Seoul, got myself some antibiotics, and didn’t have to fly home immediately. Oh, and I went on a date with a Korean policeman. Good times.

Fiji was the hardest of my trips. I had some points of bliss like Nepal – the most notable being singing to myself on a private island whilst washing dishes in the pacific ocean. It might not sound as sublime as how I described the scene in Nepal, but I liked the simplicity of it and I love the ocean, so it was perfect to me. But, I didn’t like all of my experiences in Fiji so I learnt how important, and possible, it is to make the best out of a disappointing situation.

Ukraine worked me harder than any of my travels, and it was some of the most fun I had this year. I have so many memories from those 2 months that it’d be too hard to pick a favourite. What that time taught me more than anything, was that I lOve people, and that I need to keep making friends from all over the world. As one of my wonderful American pals put it when we realised that we didn’t know when or if we’d have the chance to see each other again, I love knowing that you all exist somewhere in the world. I hope that you keep making people smile as much as you made me smile for those 2 months in the middle of the Carpathian Mountains.

This year I realised so much about myself and others whilst being in different countries, that when I came back I was able to appreciate everything in my native country so much more. To me, the Yorkshire hills are as beautiful as the Nepali mountains and the safety of being with people I’ve known forever, is just what I needed after all that newness. (That is a word btw, google it).

But overall, 2019 has taught me just how much I want to know about the world and everything in it. So I hope that the next 12 months bring me as many adventures as the last, and that next year’s post has as many happy memories in it as this one.

Third-wheeling

22nd Dec 20199th Jan 2020 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 1 Comment

I never really wrote a diary when I was younger: I’d just write entries sporadically- and when I say sporadically, I’m talking a couple a year. Sometimes they’d be about pointless fall-outs with my friends, but more often than not the content would discuss what you’d expect a teenage girl to write about: boys. Girls lOve to talk about boys, and as pathetic as I might feel to voice my feelings on this subject, I’d be lying if this weren’t something that plays on my mind – and has done since puberty. So in an effort to continue to be uncomfortably honest in my writing, off we go.

Love and relationships are so weird to me. Society completely obsesses over them, making single people feel like they should stop being single at the first opportunity. There’s also this weird culture in my generation where people are always searching for the best: they could be talking to someone they really really like, but they can’t possibly commit to a relationship label because what if they meet someone better? But then you can’t end it completely because you haven’t found anyone better yet, so let’s just not have a label: I’ll tell you I love you but get with other people – sound good?

No. That literally just sounds stupid. Lol.

Then there’s the people who stay with someone they’re not really vibing anymore because they’re scared to try something new. This scenario also doesn’t make sense to me…but then I’ve never had a boyfriend, so how would I know?

I’ve gotten really good at living vicariously through others’ relationships. Honestly, at this point I think I could probably put ‘professional third-wheel’ on my CV – contact me for enquiries and bookings, I can be available any day of the week. But as much as I love third-wheeling, always doing it is getting a bit boring now.

With the boys I’ve ‘dated’ (not sure my experiences really qualify for that title but anyway) I’ve never felt the strong feelings music, literature and film tell me I should feel, so it’s clearly not been right. It’s common knowledge that humans learn by example, and the most influential romantic relationship I’ve observed has been my parents: they’re perfect for each other. Not only are they madly in love, but they’re also each other’s best friend and connect on every level. It’s an utterly beautiful thing to see when growing up and it’s meant that I’ve never (really) wasted my time with toxic or superficial relationships. However, the flip-side is that now my expectations are stupidly high. I don’t regret not having a boyfriend during school because I now know exactly what type of person I am/want to be – a luxury many girls my age don’t have. But I do also kind of feel like I’ve missed out on something, being 20 and having never properly dated anyone.

To be fair though, I think this feeling was exacerbated by my first term at University. I thought I’d meet new people and the trend I’ve experienced with boys so far would end, but I’ve just been confronted by the same old bull****. Since the age of about 15, I’ve consistently been told by boys that I’m intimidating, I’m ‘too much’ (a direct quotation) or that I’m amazing but they’d never go there. All of these comments were either offensive or just didn’t make much sense to me. But the killer of the recurring themes has been that boys already with girlfriends think I’m great. Can’t really do anything in that situation can I?

Thankfully, I’ve always refused to settle or to change myself according to what a boy said he wanted – although I did briefly try one time when I was younger. Bad idea. The fact is that if someone compliments you profusely but then follows that up with not wanting to get to know you or spend time with you, then they’re just not that into you (or worth your time). Annoying when that’s all that ever seems to happen though innit.

I know, I know, I know, I’m young, I’ve got plenty of time.

These reassurances are true, but people of all ages still get bored and annoyed by stuff like this all the time. Relationships are shoved in our faces so many times a day that of course when you can’t relate, you’re going to get jealous and impatient. Not wanting to be single can be the most depressing and tedious part of your day, but the important thing to do is to stick to your guns and not compromise for someone. Truth be told, eventually you (and I) will find someone: we’ll be the ones telling others to chill out about wanting a relationship, trying very hard to hide our smugness at already being in one. So keep ploughing on, and remind yourself that whoever you end up calling your boyfriend/girlfriend will have been worth the wait.

I mean, my lad will have enough balls to like the things about me that everyone else called ‘intimidating’ or ‘too much’- and that level of confidence sounds pretty hot to me.

Eyes up here please

11th Dec 201915th Dec 2019 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 1 Comment

When I write or talk about my disability, I have to remind myself that the tiny things I experience are not also a part of everyone else’s day-to-day. So this Sunday, I’m going to tell you about one part of my life which may surprise you, though it seems tediously normal to me.

To put it simply: I can’t step out of the house without someone staring at my shoes. For instance, just the other day I was walking in my college at University and one of my fellow St Aidanites walked past me. She stared at my shoes for the entire time we were passing each other – a good 15 seconds – and at no point did she take the time to tear here eyes away from my feet to look me in the eye. Now. People. I get it. Often when you see my shoes it’s the first time you’ve seen anything like them in your life. But come on. Is it really that exciting? Did your parents never teach you that it’s rude to stare? Plus, the object of her amazement was literally just leather boots with some metals bars coming slightly up my legs. Wowee 😮

Growing up I became so used to people staring at my shoes and not looking in my eyes that I was sort of numb to it: on the street, on a bus, in a museum, at the cinema, at school, at the park, with my brothers, with my friends, on my own – you name a time and a situation, someone was probably having a look. Amazingly, I can’t remember ever really being phased by it as a little girl. But then I got older, and I got angry.

A particularly memorable experience is when I was 12 years old and I went to a shopping centre with my family. I was standing on my own in a queue for some food, when I saw a middle-aged woman abandon what she was doing just to gawk at my boots. She literally stopped in the middle of the floor and just stood there looking. I’m not even exaggerating. I was furious and humiliated, so I crouched down to make her realise that there was a person (a child) wearing those shoes who could see exactly what she was doing. She didn’t apologise after she realised I’d seen her, she just walked away. I’ve had more instances like this than I care to remember; with some days gifting me more than one.

Fortunately it’s not always like this. Very rarely, I’m made speechless when someone sincerely says that they like my shoes. Like! The first time in my life someone did this was when I was walking up the stairs at school, aged 17, and a supply teacher said ‘Nice shoes’ to me as he walked past. I stopped dead in my tracks with my mouth wide open, mumbled a stunned ‘thank you’ and watched him walk away. In all honesty I was ready to pounce because I thought he was taking the mick, but I realised that he wasn’t: he actually meant it. So I legged it into my common room and still in disbelief, told my friends about what had just happened. That was the first positive comment I’d ever gotten about my shoes from a stranger, and to this day, that’s only happened a handful of times.

Now that I’m older, somehow I don’t really care about my shoes or the stares. Although if you catch me on a bad/insecure day and I see you staring, then I will hate your guts for a second. Regardless of my mood though, I’ll always at least notice it.

I know that people stare because my shoes and my disability are probably things that they’ve never seen before. So if that then means that I have to be the one to watch you gawk at me like an object for a few seconds, so that you won’t do it to the next disabled person you see then that’s fine, I can take it. Just remember that whatever you’re staring at is being worn by someone, with feelings, and eyes to see you too.

Getting to know you

8th Dec 201912th Dec 2019 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

This weekend I’m spending my time back in beautiful Bradford for a couple of days, so naturally I thought it the perfect opportunity to write about my new University friends without having to awkwardly look at them whilst I describe them…so here you go squad.

On my very first day at Durham University, I met about half of the people I now call some of my closest friends and after the necessary small talk, we moved onto the hard-hitting stuff and discussed the wonderful world of hummus for (at least) 40 minutes. The traditional way to kick-start long-lasting friendships.

Meeting new people is always very challenging, seeing as you often have to try and decide which version of yourself you’re going to show for the first few days. You have to tip-toe around each other when it comes to humour, since you don’t want to offend someone or come across as unkind when all you’re trying to do is make everyone laugh. THEN, you also can’t really show anyone the moments when you’re tired or upset, seeing as you don’t want to come across as a downer, or boring to be around. So all in all, the first few days of University are kind of emotionally exhausting. But in the midst of all that internal stress, I was lucky to get to know some of the sweetest, funniest and most interesting people I’ve ever met in my life.

One of my favourite things about my new friends is that they come from all over the world, and have had such different life experiences to my own. Some spent their adolescence growing up in London, others in Scotland, one in Kenya and some even had the tough, tough time of having to grow up in the Midlands. It must have been rough guys, I can’t even begin to imagine…

JOKING! love you, can’t wait for some more Yorkshire jokes when I get back 🙂 xox

Moving to University is a really challenging moment in a young person’s life. We’re thrown into a completely new environment, with people we don’t know and who don’t know us, causing us to be on our best behaviour at all times – and there’s no guarantee that you’ll find people you feel really comfortable with at the end of all that. Lucky for me, I’ve found people I hope to be friends with for a very long time. I’ve struggled with missing home and being overwhelmed by my workload at points, but after having managed to surround myself with good people who make me feel relaxed, loved and safe at all times, getting through those moments has been easier.

So for anyone who’s struggling at University, or is about to go and is nervous, my advice to you is to find some people that you truly like and stick with them. A very very important element of doing that though is to also be yourself around those people; let them realise how much they like you too. It’s easy sometimes to hang out with people just because you think that they’re the ‘right’ people to associate with, but honestly there’s no point wasting your time like that, so try not to do it. If your relationship with someone doesn’t make you feel great most of the time, then ditch it. I’ve found that if you surround yourself with people whose company you genuinely really enjoy, life is that little bit more exciting. It sounds obvious, but you’d be surprised by the amount of people who stick in friendships they don’t even really like to begin with. Don’t be that guy: find some buddies you love as much as I love mine.

Little blip

1st Dec 201912th Dec 2019 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Now if you’re an avid reader of my blog, then you may have noticed that last Sunday I didn’t have a post for you. Which I apologise for – though it’s crazy to me that so many people actually enjoy what I write at all, let alone come back for more…so thank you for that!

The reason I didn’t post anything wasn’t because I was swamped in University work (true though lol), but it was because I felt wildly uninspired and just couldn’t seem to write anything worthwhile, no matter how hard I tried. I even sat in front of my laptop for 2 hours and started to write about not knowing what to write about: not a shining moment for my creativity, I won’t lie.

But not only was I struggling to write a blog, I was struggling with how I felt overall. For a week, I felt more lethargic and insecure than I’ve ever felt in my life, and I’m not completely sure why. I just know that I didn’t like it.

Generally, I’m a very self-motivated and positive person but just because I’m like that most of the time, it doesn’t then translate that I’m always going to feel that way. So even though I only felt low for a relatively short period of time, it really made me have a think about what the bloody hell I’m going to do about it when it happens again. Since, let’s be honest, it’s inevitably going to happen again because I’m a human being and my emotions fluctuate. So lying in my bed surrounded by pillows, I decided that I need to be less harsh on myself when I’m not feeling too chirpy.

In that week there were moments where I was upset about things and began to tell myself that I was being stupid for caring about those things. But the truth is that if you feel something, then you can’t help feeling that way, and you need to accept that emotion as valid, because if you don’t then you haven’t helped yourself at all. No matter how much you tell yourself to ignore something, if it keeps popping up in your head then you should probably address it. Plus, it might not be anything that major once you’ve thought about it objectively. For example I kept telling myself that I was isolated from my friends, so I was moody, and then because I was moody I was isolating myself, so then I was isolated. Classic.

In the past year, through my exposure to the wider world and all the different types of people within it, I’ve learned that there are parts of my personality which I’ll never get rid of – nor should I want to. I love most parts of myself, but then there’s times where I wish I could change how much I feel things. I’m a super sensitive person and I’ll always be that way. On one hand it means that I care about people very deeply and always try to be kind to others, but then it also means that people disappoint me when they don’t do what I expect.

And then I cry.

Which is a blag.

What I’ve got to do though, is manage that part of myself: try to chill out sometimes when I’m sensitive to things that really aren’t a big deal. But then in other moments, recognise that I’m totally justified in allowing myself to feel the way I do. And thus, let myself feel it without any shame or guilt.

This, might I add, is a task that people struggle with for their entire lives so don’t beat yourself up when you get lost in your own feelings sometimes. The main thing we should all focus on is being kinder to ourselves. If something’s upsetting you then accept that you’re upset because you’re allowed to be, just make sure that you don’t stay down: eat some ice cream, remember you’re a bad b**** and work out how to get back up again.

Raising a disabled child 101

10th Nov 201912th Dec 2019 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 1 Comment

As a young girl, I was incredibly confident, outspoken, enthusiastic, and so fortunate that my parents never allowed my disability to suffocate that. My childhood had a fair few tumultuous years: I had operations, infections, insufficient footwear causing more infections, new parts of my condition popping up as I grew and so many other problems I can’t even remember. All of this was then exacerbated by my free-spirited attitude leading me to accidentally injure myself and then not understand why I couldn’t walk like the other kids, obviously ending in huge upset.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to imagine how completely I could’ve been crushed by my Spina Bifida. There are children out there who are unable to live away from it, and in all honesty, for a time I was one of those kids. Aged around 7, I spent the best part of 18 months in and out of hospital and in a wheelchair and yet, my family managed to make me feel just like any other kid. They worked tirelessly to protect my personality from my disability: a feat I will probably never be able to repay them for.

It’s well-known that parents need to be supportive when their children are struggling in order for that child to feel safe, loved and happy. But having a child with a disability that you know nothing about requires a whole other level of support. To make life all the more challenging, my eldest brother has Marfan Syndrome and has his fair share of medical problems. So not only were my parents navigating raising 4 children whilst working full-time as English Literature teachers, they were working out how the hell to cater to 2 separate disabilities, whilst ALSO encouraging those children to feel equal to their non-disabled siblings and the rest of the world.

They managed it though.

I spoke a lot in my last entry about how complicated it is to live with a disability, but an important aspect of my experience is that I spent the first years of my life living as disabled with my family. I was so overwhelmingly supported that there was never any aspect of it where I was alone.

When I describe my childhood and adolescence as perfect, that isn’t to say that there weren’t points where I really struggled. For instance, I was in a wheelchair at 3 separate points in Secondary School – prime time for teenage insecurity and social paranoia. What made my early years perfect though, was the fact that everyone around me constantly made me feel normal. In the moments when I was physically or emotionally isolated from my peers at school, my parents and brothers kept me laughing and focused on a positive outlook on life.

This did then mean that at the beginning of this year, before my travels and before moving to University, I was confronted by the loneliness of moving out. I knew that I’d make friends at University, or wherever it was I went, but I now knew that my support system was about to be miles away. My family and friends who all knew my condition as well as a non-disabled person can, weren’t going to be 2 seconds away. This would mean that I would have to re-explain myself to people, bringing attention to my limitations in a way I’d never done on my own before. There would be no-one who knew me: I had this moment of realisation on the floor of my room, crying to my Dad, with an infected foot, weeks before my plane to Nepal.

It was only when I started to travel that I realised that I can do this on my own – even though it’s definitely not been easy so far. And it’s only thanks to the immense amount of love and support I had whilst living at home that I now (sort of) know how to. Thanks to my family, I’m confident in social situations and don’t shrink into myself when my disability is mentioned. Owing to my parents’ strength, I’ve learnt how to get respectfully passive aggressive with institutions or individuals when they seek to deprive me of things I need, because to some I don’t appear ‘disabled enough’ (side-note: what does that even mean?..). But most importantly, it’s thanks to all of my family’s unwavering support that I know that as lonely as disability can be, there will never ever ever be a time when I’m alone – no matter where we all are in the world.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you should raise a disabled child.

An Indelible Friend

Author: elizabethmdouglas