Tag: feelings

Chill out mate

Chill out mate

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.

The girls’ bathroom

The girls’ bathroom

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.

Third-wheeling

Third-wheeling

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.

I’m that disabled girl with the shoes

I’m that disabled girl with the shoes

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 4 Comments

Out of all of my blogs, this one is the one that I’m most unsure about because I worry about the assumptions you’ll make when you can’t see the person talking to you. I don’t want you to have a picture of me that isn’t what I’m really like just because I’ve now told you that I’m disabled. Hence why this post wasn’t one of my first…

When meeting new people, whether that be in Primary or Secondary School, at a party, in an airport, at work or even just meeting my brothers’ girlfriends, my disability has sparked interest. It doesn’t affect my speech, my brain or much of my appearance, so it’s almost hidden. This has meant that most people don’t always realise I am disabled until they spot my legs and after speaking to me for a while they delicately venture to say: ‘is it okay if I ask about why you have to wear those shoes?’. And generally, I prefer people to ask since it shows that they’re interested but also it means that they won’t continue to stare. Which, I’d like to mention is always obvious, no matter how subtle you think you’re being. Also, I use ‘generally’ here because sometimes people have opted for: ‘what’s wrong with you?’ as their phrasing. My reaction to this question is always going to be a bit radgy, seen as there’s nothing wrong with me but what’s wrong with you for phrasing it like that buddy? However, *exhale*, most people mean well so occasionally you have to swallow your pride and go with what you know they meant.

First and foremost, disability is an umbrella term. Even if 2 people have the same disability on a piece of paper, biology is such that 2 bodies will never be exactly the same. So it follows that those 2 individuals will have different variations of the same thing, and extremely different experiences of living with it. My Spina Bifida is a lump on my lower back which holds a ball of knotted nerves inside of it. These nerves are those which would allow me to have complete feeling and movement in both of my lower legs. During my childhood I had 6 operations which sought to drain the fluid in my lump and to correct the position of both of my feet because to put it simply: I can’t walk properly. I also have bad circulation in both of my lower legs and feet, meaning that if I’m cut or have a blister, not only can I not feel the pain (and therefore regulate putting pressure onto it), but it takes a lot longer to heal and is then vulnerable to infection. These cuts or blisters can be caused by anything ranging from a fold in my sock to me walking too far or standing for too long. If I develop a blister and/or an infection, I can’t walk at all and have to use a wheelchair until it heals.

I HATE my wheelchair more than anything in the world. Even now, the idea of me having to use it would reduce me to tears. The reason being that generally I don’t have to use one and am naturally very self-sufficient, independent and stubborn. My wheelchair strips me of my independence and when I’m in it, I never know how long it’ll be until I’m out and myself again. I was never encouraged to feel too sorry for myself during these times, as I always knew that I’d get out of the chair and that there are so many people in the world without that luxury. But that approach doesn’t really make it better in the moment.

To be honest, my perception of disability is complicated. I’ve definitely always struggled to communicate my true feelings about it (like now lol) because when I say things like I don’t want to join my University’s disabled society, it comes across as if I’m rejecting the disabled community. In reality I think that what I reject is the implication that because I’m disabled by definition, that that is all I am as a person. I see it as me being disabled first and everything else second, which is not how I ever want to be described. I’m proud to be disabled, and I think that disability awareness and support groups are vital for society, it’s just that I’d prefer for my disability to be peripheral in discussions rather than the focus. However it’s becoming painfully obvious to me as I grow into the world, that I need to be more explicit about my experiences as a disabled person since there’s just so little varied representation out there.

I don’t love my Spina Bifida but I do love how it’s shaped me, and I categorically do not want to be pitied or patronised, because that never does anyone any good. Everyone has their own issues to deal with and mine just happens to be this. I’ve never wanted to dwell on it but I think I’m learning now that there’s a difference between self-pitying and just describing how it affects my life. In order to be accepted and treated equally, people need to talk about things such as disabilities more often so that when they’re brought up everyone doesn’t apologise for asking. It shouldn’t always be a touchy subject because it doesn’t have to be a negative conversation.

So I’ll do my best to be that person to talk about it, knowing that for me disability is only one of the many defining factors of who I am as a human being.

In my feels at Ukrainian Summer Camp

In my feels at Ukrainian Summer Camp

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 1 Comment

One thing I’m very proud of is the fact that I’m a West Yorkshire girl. We may have cold, rainy weather, and it might be constantly assumed that we drink tea or have some sort of superior authority when it comes to judging a Yorkshire pudding (tho the latter’s true tbf), and it might well be accurate that we struggle to spend money on anything. BUT, it’s because of these facts and many others that I love where I’m from. However, aside from that cheeky bit of patriotism, there are plenty of things about the Northern English psyche that I don’t love all that much.

The main one that was appropriate when it came to my time in Ukraine was our tendency to be emotionally guarded. I grew up in a family where sarcasm is encouraged, and through making digs (lovingly) at each other my siblings and I gained a thicker skin in preparation for the wider world. One consequence of this was that I, like many other Britons, have a tendency to take the mick out of anything that shows excessive enthusiasm or ‘deep’ emotions. By ‘deep’ I mean when you’re sitting with your group of friends and someone brings up the meaning of life, and because you’re English one of you responds with ‘that’s deep’ and you all laugh it off, then change the topic to something ‘lighter’.

A natural avoidance of topics requiring more emotional vulnerability such as this made life in a Ukrainian Summer Camp all the more alien to me. Our first week in the Carpathian mountains was a training week, where counsellors and English teachers got to know one another without any children running around. We played games every day, and brainstormed activities we could do with the kids, but then on an evening we’d sit and have conversations where everyone seemed to willingly bare their souls to strangers. Now I was struggling to get used to the fact that we actually had to learn dance routines for the kids to mimic for 15 minutes before EVERY meal, let alone that everyone would then have heavily emotional chats with each other before bed time…

The Yorkshire lass in me wanted to laugh and take the mick at so many points, but it became clearer that I was the minority in the room when it came to not wanting to publicly emote. It’s apparent in Europe, and from what I’ve seen the rest of the world, that those ‘deep’ conversations the English only seem to have when drunk or in therapy are standard dinner time chit-chat. It’s in this way, amongst others, that we play to our stereotype of being uptight and emotionally closed-off.

To be honest, I do like this characteristic of our culture to an extent. In my eyes, we privilege monumental emotions over minor ones. By this I mean that we don’t emote constantly, but (for want of a better phrase) save it for a big occasion. In this way, we don’t force our emotions onto people excessively, for fear of being branded a ‘downer’ or, in Yorkshire terminology, ‘a whinge’. That being said, this is definitely a toxic trait when it comes to mental health: the English have a real problem with internalising emotions and therefore allowing those feelings to overwhelm and isolate the individual. Through living in Ukraine surrounded by people of all nationalities (not exclusively European), and being in a hyper-emotional environment, I was encouraged to be a lot more vocal and in-tune with my own feelings. Life in a summer camp is effectively a hot box where everything you feel is heightened due to extreme levels of stress, responsibility and a whoooole lot of laughter.

In this week’s concluding paragraph – seen as I just can’t seem to get that A Level English Lit essay structure out of my bones- I basically just want to say that the English need to have some more ‘deep’ conversations. As a community, we need to make it clearer to each other that emotions aren’t scary or unusual. I’m not suggesting that everyone sits and has a cry with each other regularly, although an occasional cry is good for you. But some of the most valuable parts of summer camp for me, and others, was everyone leaving little notes for each other just to say thank you for leaving the art room tidy, or helping with an evening activity, or just to say I think you’re amazing and this is why. Ukraine showed me that when a group of people are almost completely emotionally vulnerable with one another, life is easier. We wound each other up and occasionally we argued, but overall I formed some of the closest friendships I’ve ever had in 2 months flat and laughed until I cried multiple times every day.

So next time someone wants to talk about something ‘deep’, humour it and get involved for a bit. It might be interesting and afterwards you’ll feel good. Plus, then when you want to lighten the mood and have a laugh with each other your relationship is going to be stronger, more genuine and so much more fun.