I want to live inside this song…
I want to live inside this song…
and you do it ’cause you know me well.
I was gonna fix a bag but I fixed this instead, I’m back!
I know for sure I’m a little rusty so bear with me. I promise to stick around longer without pulling a Houdini.
This year has been hectic, things (and feelings) kept getting in the way.
I’m inclined to use having a real job as a defence for my absence.
It’s not really an acceptable excuse.
A loving parent doesn’t neglect their child for a job. They just don’t.
I should multi-task.
I should balance.
I know.I KNOW.
Soooo, the major driving force behind my decision to return is being back in sunshiny heaven with this little Book of YOU:
It was gifted to me by my mother who in my time has gifted me many gifts. Cats, education, life, charm bracelets. Thank you mum!
.Back to the book.
It’s pretty straightforward- pick a micro-action, make it happen, feel phenomenal.
I am NOT just saying this.
Two weeks before I moved to Spain again, I was feeling horrific. I had stopped my anti-depressants cold-turkey and had never felt more anxious, nauseous or disagreeable in my life.
Everything, seriously everything was pissing me off.
It all pissed me off even more when I woke up late and had to rush for the airport, when I got to JD Sports and the conversion rate was a joke, when I wanted but didn’t want avo baby rolls from Itsu, when it came time to board my #fav mode of transport evaaaa, when I found out I was at the front in an emergency exit seat, when the hombre next to me promptly fell asleep and the new madre on my other side whipped out a bottle of
really not very nice smelling human milk, when I left a bag full of overpriced tea and shortbread under my seat, when I had to wait 2 HOURS to get it back, when I emptied my hefty suitcases only to find I had packed about three and a half suitable items of clothing… what was all that weight?! When, I opened the window and the neighbours rat-dog sneezed at me.
I was so wound up, the many good things that had also happened that day were hardly registering. I sat on my new couch, by myself, desperate to but not going to cry. Not on the first day.
Instead, like in some tragic start to a film about a lonely woman starting a life on her own in a foreign country, I made a dramatic reach for the book which had caught my eye. It was calling to me ya kno? All bright and exciting. A portal to re-learning to appreciate ‘all things worth appreciating’
I’m not saying this is the miracle cure but three days in to my stay and The Book of YOU, the physical upset from stopping my meds had settled but the low feeling setting in again. For 24 hours I was hyper aware of this. On day 4, a day I almost skipped, I felt so much happiness. I realised that the prescribed pills which I swallowed every day to maintain a numbed emotional balance are being replaced by a little tick in a little circle on a little page because it is quantifiable proof that I have engaged with the world and accomplished something positive even if the rest of the day goes to miercoles.*
The buzz I get at prospect of crossing off another challenge and working towards cultivating a ‘healthier, happier’ me in the long-run helps me to get up and fight everyday. I’m still in clay at the moment but it’s like I’m finally wading my way out of what I have been stuck in for years.
Click through the bubbles below to see how I’ve been living with the book so far. I hope you’ll continue to follow my progress on Instagram and will maybe be inspired to get you a copy!
*’miercoles’- Landlady Nerea’s nice way of saying ‘mierda’ or ‘shit’
P.S. Do keep checking back in for fun new things here ❤
This memory came up today…
We wouldn’t even all be here as friends or people if it wasn’t for immigration and EU mobility…Britain has given up the latter for fear over the effects of the first which has constantly been cited as a good reason to leave the EU.
Fine, go solo Britain. I know that the EU has other imperfections that need to be dealt with and in some ways, maybe in an ideal world, it would be better out. Only don’t look to anyone else like they owe you something or have done you a disservice if it all goes wrong. Especially not immigrants.
It was on the backs of immigrants and colonies that this place even became ‘Great’. It was immigrants who came after ‘Great’ wars to rebuild a ‘Great’ capital and trade. Now, immigrants who are filling the gaps in public services which the ‘Great’ natives will not and often cannot handle, are just about keeping you afloat, let alone ‘Great’.
I’m not one for political rants but I’d like to know the backgrounds of everyone who voted and their reasons (on both sides). Some of the views which have come out over this referendum process have been so disappointing. On top of the fact that Britons seem to have forgotten all the times they have been bailed out by foreigners, many amongst us who are descended from those same saviours appear to have forgotten themselves and are ready to dismiss new arrivals.
It’s so easy for people to turn a blind-eye on the past when they feel secure. Your passport might say British and you might even feel it but what about your blood-line? Do you have any idea how todays anti-immigration sentiment would have affected your ancestors and still could affect you as we concede to xenophobia disguised as sovereignty? How would you want you and yours to be treated if you had to flee or just wanted a better life for yourselves?
Yes, there needs to be a plan to manage the flow of people coming into the country. I just hope that the measures are compassionate and that the people who get involved in making it all official are historically-informed.
Complacency is a dangerous thing.
.Photobooth.. =A Selfie Stream to rival all (the two) Selfie Streams before.
A tribute to the amazingly great, the horrendously bad and the everything in between from my months living in Valencia (and occasional trips home)..mediums: Photobooth (addicition is real) and my one and only face.
(Clic d Pic)
(pon d pic)