Turn! Turn! Turn!

Just returned from my first appointment with my counsellor in six months. She’s incredible. When I talk to her I see how much I have changed and how far I have come. She has played a large part in that. She’s very good at making me see through all my crappy excuses and my inner child’s whinging, to what is real and right.

The stark truth is that I am where I am today as a result of my choices. You can’t always choose what happens to you - I would have preferred not to have had cancer, for example - but life is like that. What you can choose is how you deal with it. The paths I have taken have been for one goal and one alone – I’ve only wanted to be happy. I have chosen not to be in regular employment as the few times I was, I couldn’t stand it, so I have put myself in this position of not being able to achieve a mortgage. Nevertheless, I back my choice. It is best for me. I could have worked harder in the last five years and I didn’t. The big C aside, I was in a relationship for the first twelve months of this period, the security of which shielded me from taking initiative. We had a mortgage. That’s why I started Lizzie Likes… to increase my income so I could make a greater contribution to the repayments. That relationship was another of my choices. Falling in love was what life gave me at that time. Anything that followed was down to me, and I accept responsibility. It was done in the pursuit of happiness. Making choices sometimes means having regrets too.

Anyhow, now I find myself in this irksome situation it’s up to me how I progress. (Irksome? Screw that. It’s a pain in the farking butthole.) I can continue with this gloom-fest, or I can opt for optimism. If I say that I’m going to be OK enough times, I will begin to believe it. I know this works because I’ve done it before.

-          Time and time and time again. I only want some peace. I’m FED UP of being strong.

-          Ah. Hello Inner Voice. Still there huh?

-          Always. Can we have some chocolate and a sleep now? It’s past 2pm!

-          No. I have to write and post this, then do some more work and prepare something for the pantomime publicity meeting before [as-yet-unrevealed hobby] this evening.

-          Oh Outer Voice, you’re so wise. Said no-one ever.

-          Hush now. I’m concentrating…

Yup. It’s like that all the time. Where was I? Ah yes – it’s up to me how I progress. So I am going to change my approach, albeit shakily.  

I don’t want to move out of my home. I am very sad about it and probably will be for a while, but that is fine. It’s perfectly natural to grieve for loss. I do not enjoy this feeling of not being settled, nor the fear of the unknown. Moving house is stressful enough when it’s something you actually want to do! It was pointed out that change is always a risk with renting. Funny how it never occurred to me. I’ve always left properties because I wanted to – it’s always been me that hands in notice, not the other way around. Anyway, yes I’m very frightened. To me, it’s less adventure more inconvenience. As banged on about previously, it has taken me ages to get to this positive work and home position. I do not relish the idea of putting it on hold. It is just “hold” though. If I lie back and thick of the end-point – that I will return to this position eventually – it will help.  A lot of this pain is happening because I am having to think about myself which is what I have been stealthily avoiding for a while. To enter a room of people, thinking not “what must they think of me?” but “what can I do for these folk to make their life experience better?” is where I need to re-angle my lens.

So here is what I am going to do, in addition to continuing to get out of bed each morning and remembering to breathe. And the small matter of keeping my income incoming and doing all those other things that make me glad I exist:

1)      Start looking for somewhere else to live. I figure if I start now, I’ve got a better chance of finding a place that I will be content with. Sure, it makes me blub just firing up a property website, but I will do it anyway. I might find somewhere even more incredible.

-          and you might find somewhere a lot worse…

-          Can it, IV. I choose not to listen.

2)      Start selling my things. A downsize is likely, almost inevitable. I’ll feel less stupid on moving day if I have less stuff. I question the volume of possessions, but my things make me happy. (Why do I feel I have to justify them? I think it’s the echoes of my father’s voice from all those years ago, talking to me or my mother: “What do you need that for? What are you going to do with that?” etfc) I’m not talking furniture here – I don’t own a bed, wardrobes, a sofa, a TV etc. (All things that will need to be acquired when I leave… Except a TV. I was managing fine without that.) However, I seem to have rather a lot of shelf units. It’s because of my love of certain things. Boot fairs are my hobby in summer. A trawl through on a sunny day does me no end of good. So I have a lot of clothes and jewellery and yes, I wear them. I do lots of things that require dressing up. It’s something I love to do. I also have a lot of music, instruments and books. I have a collection of Sindy dolls, clothes and furniture that I have built up over the years, and that I bloody love. I’ve had nowhere to put it while living here other than the attic. What’s the point in that? Maybe I should let it go? My other “vice” is fabric, craft materials and beads. All of which bring me tremendous joy. Dammit. One area that won’t be compromised is the kitchen, containing cookie cutters, cake boards, baking tins and trays, all manner of ingredients, sprinkles and packaging. This is work. Technically, these are the assets of my business, so they remain. Phew.

3)      Do 1) and 2) anyway but be as proactive as possible about staying. I’m SURE there must be more that I can do here. I have a couple of ideas and will spew them forth later.

I do all of this with the black dog of depression barking in my earhole, which makes it somewhat harder. It’s an illness and I have it. It’s not an excuse. It can be handled and overcome. I’m not telling you that, I’m reminding myself!

So to sum up then, using the words that Katharine Hamnett emblazoned upon George Michael in the 1984 vid for Wake Me Up Before you Go-Go, I too choose life.

How will I get on? Will Inner Voice get a triangle of Toblerone after all, for her patience? Does my counsellor get danger money? Screw your reading eyeballs in next time and find out.