You Can Be Right And Still Be Wrong

It's not easy for a stubborn person to admit when they're wrong.  I know this, because I know many stubborn folk, for whom the idea of holding their hands up and saying "okay, I was wrong and I'm sorry" is the kind of thing that causes them to wake up in the dead of night, in a cold sweat.

I also know this, because to a much lesser extent, I am a stubborn person.

I know that when I have a bee in my bonnet about something, I become rather unshakable in my views.  I know that I tend to react strongly to perceived slights, because I'm ludicrously sensitive and then afterwards, I struggle to let go of the hurt I've felt, in order to see the person who hurt me the way I saw them before.  I know that there have been times when I've decided that I'd rather be silent and say nothing to someone, than have it out with them and fix a problem, because doing so feels too difficult.  So, yeah, I guess I can be stubborn...

I like big BUTs and I cannot lie.

The thing is, I am not one of those people who holds onto that stubbornness forever, refusing to talk about a problem, being against the principle of "forgive and forget," or just generally maintaining negativity in spite of the fact that doing so is actually worsening my own life.

That's because I'm ridiculously self-analytical.  To the point of actual craziness.  I've been known to lie awake at night, wondering why I said a certain thing, or why I felt a certain way.  And I don't just mean on the day a particular event or scenario happened.  I mean weeks later.  Months later.  Years later (I talk about that a bit in this YouTube video).

I find myself wondering what I could have said instead.  What I should have done differently.  I start thinking about any other people involved in a situation and what their feelings on it all might be.  And, if I think that they might be hurting because of something I've said or done, my gut instinct is to apologise and try to make it better.  Not because I suddenly think I was in the wrong all along (although, sometimes I am, obviously), but because I know that the right thing to do, is to consider the feelings of others and to try to behave in a way that causes the least hurt.

Because, you see, you can be right and yet still be wrong.

I know, just... Hear me out.

When you fall out with someone who has hurt you in some way, you might foster some kind of belief that you're the one in the right.  Sometimes, people around you who know what's going on, may also share that view.  And of course, there are situations in which you are ultimately in the right and you need to let a toxic person go from your life, by way of protecting yourself from harm.  In that instance, walking away is entirely the right thing to do.

But sometimes, arguments get unnecessarily heated.  Other people get involved.  Events escalate into something they never started out as.  A petty dispute turns into World War Three.

That happened to me, six months ago.

I believe I had every right to be upset about something.  But now, I also believe that I was very wrong to let it get as bad as it did.  Someone in the situation should have said "hey, hang on, this is getting needlessly nasty.  Let's cool off and meet up to talk about this properly in a couple of weeks."  And in the absence of anyone saying that for those of us involved in the argument, perhaps I should have been the one to suggest it.

But I was stubborn.  I was hurting.  I was mad.  So, I made no such suggestion.  And things worsened.  Soon, instead of anyone talking anything through, or making any effort to fix anything, I was unceremoniously told by someone who had zero place to be getting involved, that it was too late.  Nobody wanted me around, anymore.

ALL ABOARD THE WOE IS ME TRAIN!

At that point, who was right or wrong in the situation was barely important, anymore.  The fact is, a dumb, stupid argument that should have been talked through face to face, had destroyed several friendships.  All because nobody thought to say "this is getting silly, now.  Let's meet up to talk properly."  Nobody, including me.  So, whatever the right or wrong of the original argument, I was wrong, there.  We were all wrong, there.  And I hold my hands up and take responsibility for my lack of any action to save things.  Because, regardless of whether or not I believe I was right to be hurt with various things, I was wrong to let those things - and the subsequent argument about them - destroy a really precious friendship.  In fact, two really precious friendships.

The thing is, I think you can be right and still be wrong, if you go about things in a way that causes hurt, or if you allow a situation that could be fixed, to simply break down altogether.

And the more I thought about this whole "you can be right and still be wrong" thing, the more I realised it applies to a whole lot of different situations.

You see, sometimes, doing the right thing for other people, means doing the wrong thing for ourselves.  And I bet that's something we're all guilty of.

Ever had someone ask something of you and felt duty-bound to do it, because you love that person and maybe they're in a position of need, so you go along with it, despite the fact that perhaps you could use a little help, yourself?  You're doing the right thing for them, whilst perhaps doing the wrong thing for yourself.

We've all done it.  Whether it's staying up late to talk to a friend with a problem, despite having an early shift at work the next day, or simply putting our own feelings second, because someone else needs to be priority, right now.  We've all done the "right" thing for someone else, despite it actually being the "wrong" thing for us.

It's when you think of it like that, that you begin to realise that terms such as "right" and "wrong" are actually rather black and white.  Reality has a far wider colour spectrum than that.

I suppose the most important things to remember are firstly that sometimes, we need to do right by ourselves.  Putting your own feelings to one side is never a permanent solution, after all.  And secondly, once we start analysing the way we really feel about things, we can see how our feelings have coloured our actions (or lack thereof) and - hopefully - confess to ourselves when we've contributed, whether knowingly or not, to a "wrong" situation.

You can be right and still be wrong.

You can do wrong for yourself, in order to do right for someone else.

Life is rarely ever black and white.

Bedtime Story (19/4/2017)

Sometimes, I can control my dreams.  Sadly, not as often as I used to be able to, but still... Dreams fascinate me.  So, I decided to write this bedtime story all about them.

Looking for the podcast to listen to?  Just click here!

What Do You Want To Dream?

Are you tucked up in bed, nice and tight?  

Are you almost ready to turn out the light?

Is it nearly time to say goodnight?
Then, what do you want to dream?

You could think about going to outer space,

And staring an alien, right in the face!

In fact, you could travel to any place.

So, what do you want to dream?

Think about your favourite thing.

It could be a food you eat, or a song you sing.

Think about the happiness it brings,

As you settle down to dream.

You might think about what happened during the day.

You might remember all the games you played.

Those memories aren't so far away,

When you see them in your dreams.

Think of colours; purple, blue or red,

As you snuggle deep down in your bed.

Picture them swirling in your head,

Colouring your dreams.

Imagine all the things that you could be,

Or all the places you'd like to see.

You can see them all for free,

When you travel in your dreams.

Building a castle on a marshmallow cloud.

Your favourite song, played extra loud.

Dancing in front of an enormous crowd.

What will you do in your dream?

It's almost time to go to sleep.

So, snuggle down; don't make a peep!

The only thought you need to keep,

Is: What do you want to dream?

Make a wish on a shining star,

For the stars will watch over where you are.

No matter how near or how far

You travel in your dreams.

What you see might be a big surprise,

When you finally close those sleepy eyes.

So, I hope you think of something nice...

Now it's time to dream.

THE END

Bedtime Story (12/4/2017)

I've been thinking a lot about friendship, lately.  So, I decided to write a story about what friendship means to me.  The picture above is of my best friend Lydia and me.  What better way to illustrate a story about friendship, than with a picture of the closest friendship I have in my life?!

You can listen to this story as a podcast here.

"Because You're My Friend."

Catherine and Emily sat on the hill,

Licking ice creams in the sun.

They gazed down at the town below them,

Counting houses, one by one.

Everything was quiet and still on the hill,

Until a bumble bee came buzzing past.

It gave Emily such a fright,

That she dropped her ice cream on the grass.

"Oh no!"  She complained, watching it melt.

"I was enjoying that," she said.

Then Catherine handed her her ice cream cone,

With a gentle nod of her head.

"Share mine," she offered, with a smile.

"We'll have half each; I really don't mind."

Emily opened her big, blue eyes wide.

Catherine was being so kind!

"You'd really do that for me?" She asked.

"You could have eaten it right up to the end."

But Catherine just shook her head and grinned:

"I don't mind, because you're my friend."

Emily beamed back at Catherine,

And gratefully told her "thank you.

I know that sharing with friends is right,

But it's also a kind thing to do."

Catherine grinned: "I'd do more than that.

I would do anything for you!

Because you're my friend I promise you,

There are all sorts of things I would do."

Emily sat up and glanced at her friend,

As the birds began to sing.

She had just one question on her mind:

"Will you tell me about all of those things?"

Catherine took a very deep breath,

As though she had lots to say.

"I promise to always be there for you,

And to never go away.

If you are ever poorly,

I will try to make you better.

Even if it's just by leaving you to rest,

Though I miss you when we're not together.

And when you're back on your feet again,

I'd welcome you back to school.

And I'd help you catch up on what you'd missed,

So you'd never feel like a fool.

If you're ever feeling sad,

I'd be there to listen to you.

I would offer you hugs and a shoulder to cry on,

Until you've talked it all through.

If we ever disagree on something,

I would listen to how you feel.

And I know you'd listen to my side as well,

And we'd come to some sort of deal.

If you were being bullied,

I would stand up and defend you.

I wouldn't be scared of the nasty person,

I would be ready to protect you.

When you're feeling tired,

I'll make you a cosy bed.

And I'll tell you lovely stories,

Until good dreams fill your head.

I'll keep all of your secrets,

And I know that you'll keep mine.

If you ever need to talk to me,

Just call me, any time.

I'll be here for you forever,

Even if I'm far away.

I know we'll always keep in touch,

Until we meet again, someday.

I always want what's best for you,

And in you I'll always believe.

I'll be proud to celebrate with you,

All the great things you'll achieve.

I'll cheer you on when you do well,

And cheer you up when things go wrong.

I'll always be here to make you happy,

With a smile, a laugh or a song.

We'll go on adventures, together

And we'll play games in the sun.

It doesn't matter what we do;

When we're together, it's always fun.

These are just the ways I show you,

That I'll be here until the end.

And I'll happily do these things for you,

Because you are my friend."

Emily hugged Catherine close.

"You're my friend, too," she said.

"And I'd do all those things for you,

On that you can bet."

So, the sun shone down that day,

And the breeze slowed to a still.

And two friends shared an ice cream,

As they sat upon the hill.

THE END

Bedtime Story (5/4/2017)

I've been thinking a lot about my own imperfections, lately.  Those of you who read my regular blog as well as my Bedtime Stories section will know that I tend to be rather self-analytical!  And it was thinking about the ways in which we aren't perfect, that led to this week's story.

You can also listen to me reading this story as a podcast!

Perfect Polly

The trouble started when Polly went to her best friend Sam's house for tea.  Sam had his cousin staying for the weekend and Polly was excited to meet her.  

"This is Isobel," Sam said, gesturing to a tall girl will long, blonde hair.  She was obviously a few years older than Polly and she smiled a big, warm smile as Polly waved at her.

"How lovely to meet you," Isobel grinned.  

Polly watched, as Isobel disappeared into the kitchen, to help Sam's mum with the tea.  She seemed to glide, like a graceful swan.  Polly blinked and turned to Sam.  "How old is she?"

"Ten," Sam replied.  

Polly was still not quite five and she thought ten sounded like a very grown up age.  But before she could say anything, Sam asked: "Shall we go and play in the garden?"

Polly nodded and followed her friend.  Before long, the pair of them had grubby stains on their knees, from crawling around in the grass.  Polly's wavy hair was all messed up, from hanging upside down from Sam's climbing frame.  

"Hey, can you do a handstand?"  Sam asked, propelling himself forwards and desperately trying to keep his legs in the air.  Polly was about to try it, when the back door opened and Isobel came out to join them.

"Want me to help you, Sam?"  She asked.  "If you put your hands on the ground, I can lift your legs up, if you like?"

Sam frowned.  "I want to try by myself," he huffed.  

"Okay," Isobel smiled.  "Just remember, you can try it against a wall at first, until you get the hang of it.  The wall gives you something for your feet to rest against."

Polly stared.  She had never been able to do a handstand.  "Can you do them?" 

Isobel chuckled.  "Only after a lot of practise."  She rolled her sleeves up and before Polly could say another word, Isobel had performed the perfect handstand, right there in the middle of the garden.  She didn't even need a wall to balance against!

"That was amazing!"  Polly gasped.  Isobel's hair fell back neatly down to her shoulders and her hands weren't even dirty from touching the floor!

"It was good," Sam admitted.  "Anyway, dinner's probably almost ready.  We should go inside."

At dinner, Polly watched in awe, as Isobel drank delicately from her glass, without spilling a drop of drink.  She watched her eat her dinner, without making the slightest bit of mess.

By the time Polly began getting ready to go home, she had made up her mind:  Isobel was perfect and Polly wanted nothing more than to be exactly like her.

The following morning, Polly woke up feeling excited.  It was her first day of being perfect!  

She quickly got dressed and hurried downstairs.  She found her parents sitting at the breakfast table.  "Good morning," Polly said, in the sweetest voice she could muster.  "Can I help you with breakfast?"

Her dad raised an eyebrow.  "We're just having cereal," he said.  "But you can pour your own, if you want to?"

'That would be lovely," Polly replied, trying to sound as grown up as Isobel.  She picked up the box and poured some cereal into a bowl.  The box felt heavy in her hands and some of the cereal missed the bowl, falling onto the table instead.  Polly tutted and quickly picked up the pieces, hoping nobody had noticed.  Then, she took the bottle of milk and very slowly tipped it over her bowl.   But the milk bottle was even heavier than the cereal box had been, and pretty soon, there was milk all over the table and all over Polly.

"Don't worry," her mum said, rushing to get a cloth.  Polly apologised, but her heart sank a little in her chest and she didn't say a word as the family ate.

After breakfast was eaten, Polly decided to go upstairs to brush her hair.  She wanted it to look long and straight, just like Isobel's.  But Polly's hair was wavy and no matter how much she brushed it, it just wouldn't go straight.  In fact, the more Polly brushed it, the more frizzy it became, sticking out at strange angles.  Polly sighed and shook her head.

"Polly!"  Dad called up the stairs.  "We're taking Baxter to the park.  Come and get your coat on!"

Polly rushed downstairs and grinned at the family dog.  She suddenly had another idea - Isobel had been really helpful, giving Sam's mum a hand with dinner and offering to show Sam how to do a handstand.  Now, Polly could show how helpful she could be, by walking Baxter!  He was only a little cocker spaniel.  How hard could it be?!

"I can hold Baxter's lead for you," Polly insisted, taking the lead from her dad's hand.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Dad replied.  "He's only young; he's quite excitable.  If you want to help, why don't you carry your mum's bag for her?"  Polly's mum was having a baby soon and she rubbed her swollen belly and nodded.

Polly thought about it, but her mind was made up.  "Dad can carry your bag," she said.  "I'm going to show you that I'm all grown up and I can walk Baxter."

But, as soon as the front door was open, Baxter went darting out into the street, dragging Polly behind him.  It had been raining and Polly went lurching through puddles, as she struggled to keep up with the dog.  Before long, she had muddy splashes all up her legs.

Dad came rushing over to take the lead from Polly.  "You're a bit little to be walking Baxter by yourself, just yet," he insisted.

Polly sighed, heavily.  She looked down into one of the puddles and saw her reflection staring back at her.  Her legs were muddy, her hair was sticking out and she still had milk on her top from breakfast.  She didn't look clean and when she walked, she didn't seem to glide like a swan.  She couldn't even be helpful without something going wrong.  She wasn't perfect.

Polly didn't say another word all the way to the park.  When they arrived, her mum gave her shoulders a squeeze and asked what was wrong, but Polly didn't want to say.

"Hey, I know what'll cheer you up," Mum said, pointing.  "Look, there's Sam with his mum and dad!  And isn't that his cousin with him?  I can't for the life of me remember her name..."

"Isobel," Polly mumbled.  She didn't really want Isobel to see her looking like such a mess.  But it was too late; Sam had spotted them and was heading over, with Isobel in tow.

"Hi Polly," Sam said.  "Isobel and I were just playing football.  Want to join us?"

Polly shook her head.  "No, I'm not good at that," she said.

Isobel chuckled.  "Neither am I," she insisted.  "But we're having fun, anyway!"

Polly frowned.  "Of course you're good at it," she said.  "You must be; you're good at everything!"

Isobel pulled a face.  "I'm honestly not," she laughed.  "There are loads of things I'm not good at."  She pressed her lips into a line and cocked her head to one side as she looked at Polly.  "Are you alright?"

Polly sighed.  "I'm not perfect."

"Nobody is!"  Isobel grinned.  

Polly frowned again.  "You are!"  She pressed.  "You can eat and drink without spilling anything and you walk really nicely and you're helpful and your hair always looks nice and you can do a handstand without even needing a wall!  I'm just messy and clumsy and I can't help without everything going wrong."  She stared down at her shoes.

Isobel took Polly's hand and walked her a few steps away from everyone else.  She sat down in the grass and motioned for Polly to do the same.  "Do you know what I did last night, after you went home?"  She asked, in a quiet voice.  Polly shook her head and Isobel continued: "I made everyone a mug of hot chocolate and a big bowl of popcorn, so we could watch a film, together.  And as I carried the popcorn in, I forgot that I'd put the mugs down already and I put the bowl on the table and Auntie Shelly's mug of hot chocolate went all over the place.  Honestly, you should have seen the carpet - we had to scrub it for ages.  And it still smells of chocolate, this morning!"

Polly stared at her.  "But... You didn't mean it!  And you don't make a mess all the time, do you?!"

"Of course I didn't mean it," Isobel agreed.  "And no, I don't make a mess all the time, but neither do you.  You just notice it more at the moment, because you're trying your hardest not to be messy."

Polly sighed.  "I really am trying," she said.  "But it's not working."

"You're only little," Isobel told her.  "I used to spill my drink every single night at dinner time.  And you should have seen the state of me when I came in from playing in the garden!  I was always getting in a mess.  But I got older and I learned to be a bit more careful.  And you will, too!  I still make mistakes, but I say I'm sorry and I try to learn from them.  That's what growing up is about, Polly.  It's not about being perfect.  It's about admitting that you're not."

Polly smiled.  "So... It doesn't matter if I drop things, or that I can't do a handstand?"

"Not one bit," Isobel said.  "You're fine as you are."  She stood up.  "Anyway, I can help you do a handstand.  Want to try?!"

Polly beamed.  "Yes, please!"

She bent down put her hands on the ground.  Slowly, Isobel helped her to lift her legs all the way up.  "I'm actually doing it!"  Polly shrieked.  "Thank you!"

She dropped back down to the floor and Isobel smiled.  "See, you just need a bit of practise, that's all.  And never be too shy to admit you need help."

Polly nodded.  "Was it a good handstand?"

Isobel wrapped an arm around Polly's shoulders.  "Perfect," she said.

THE END

The Power of Music

Do you ever do that thing of intending to watch just one YouTube video, then before you know it, it's two hours later and you've been clicking on so many links in the "recommended" section after each video you've watched, that you're not entirely sure you remember what you went on there to look at in the first place?!

That's what happened to me, last night.

It started off as a simple desire to watch Prince perform Purple Rain, after seeing someone mention the song on Twitter.  It's up there amongst my all-time favourite songs, so I decided to head to YouTube to indulge my love of it.  Amongst the recommended videos afterwards, was Guns n Roses' November Rain, another favourite of mine, so I watched that, next.  And, sure enough, in the recommended videos alongside that, there was another song I wanted to watch the video for.  And so on and so forth, until it was well past the time I had planned to be all tucked up in bed.

Pictured: Me, last night, when I should have been asleep...

One of the things I love about music is how you can get completely lost in it.  I wasn't bothered about going to sleep.  All I wanted to do was let the melodies surround me and enjoy the sensation that each song provided within me.  

Music is so powerfully personal, too.  A song that means nothing to one person, could be the song that reminds someone else of the happiest - or worst - time of their life.  Music can bring us back to moments we'd long forgotten.  Our memories have their own soundtrack and that's an amazing thing.

Last night, whilst I was on my journey from song to song, scanning the recommended videos after each one I watched and picking the one I liked best, I wasn't expecting so many memories to come flooding back.  But that's exactly what happened.

Some of them were funny memories.  For example, when I watched the video for Take That's How Deep Is Your Love, I found myself giggling over the fact that my sister used to say that the slightly odd instrumental sound just before the final chorus sounded like "a drunk owl."

Some of them were bittersweet memories.  Design For Life by the Manics just made me think of all the times I've seen them play that song live, nearly always with my gig buddy - and one of my closest friends - by my side.  She's chosen not to be in my life, anymore, as a result of a fallout I had with someone else, so the memories of she and I, arms aloft, singing our hearts out together, was tinged with an awful lot of sadness.

But then I clicked on a song in the recommended videos section, purely because I hadn't listened to it in years and I remembered loving it when I was younger.  And that was the moment that I realised that music doesn't just soundtrack our memories.  Sometimes, it envelopes them so tightly that we don't even know we have those specific memories, until we hear the song, again.

This was the song in question.

Don't Dream It's Over by Crowded House was, as far as I was concerned, just as pretty song I used to like when I was around 12 or 13.  But, as I pressed "play," I realised that it held within its melody, memories I had buried deep within my psyche.

Instantly, as the song began to play, I was transported back to the bus I used to take to secondary school.

Now, regular readers of this blog will probably already be aware that when I started secondary school, I went from being a bright, bubbly girl who enjoyed attention, to being a very withdrawn, depressed kid, with no confidence.  That is entirely down to the fact that I experienced horrendous bullying on that school bus.  Day in, day out.

I had completely forgotten the association that particular song had with that particular time.  But, as I listened to the music and sang along with the lyrics, it all came rushing back.

That was the song that I would frequently play on the bus, turned up loud so that my headphones drowned out as much of the name-calling as possible.  I would stare out of the window and listen to those words: "Hey now, hey now.  Don't dream it's over... You know they won't win."

I clung to those words.  I was going through a painful time, in which I was convinced that all the good times in my life were over.  My enjoyment of life, my confidence in myself, my belief in the good in people... All of it had been eroded by the daily Hell the bullies on the bus so loved to put me through.  But I wanted to believe that it would get better.  And so, those lyrics were a lifeline.  My life wasn't over.  And I wouldn't let them win.

Hearing that song again and reliving all of those memories was incredibly powerful.  It stunned me that I could have forgotten just why the song meant so much to me all those years ago, but I suppose that some memories are just too painful to fixate on.  

But, once the floodgates had been opened, I realised just how many memories I have that are intrinsically linked to the music I was listening to at the time.  For example, I can't hear Don't Look Back In Anger by Oasis, without remembering myself as a kid of 13, bouncing around the living room, shrieking with joy, because the song was being played at number 2 in the charts and I knew that meant that my beloved Take That's final single before their split, had gone in straight at number one.

Music is more than just a pleasant sound in the background.  It can be what sets a mood.  It can speak to us on a deeply personal, emotional level.  And, as I discovered last night, it can be the key to memories we thought were locked away, forever.

So, whatever type of music it is that floats your boat, indulge in it.  Shamelessly.  Music has extraordinary power.  Life without it is unimaginable.

In Celebration Of Meditation!

Regular readers of this blog might be aware that I've been going through a hard time lately and that recently, I began counselling.  What very few of you might know, is that my first counselling session actually led to me discovering something that I had previously written off as very much not for me. 

You see, as that first session drew to a close, my counsellor asked me whether I had ever tried meditation as a stress reliever, and whether I'd like to do a quick meditation right there and then.

Now, guys.  If you read this blog, you'll know that I have a brain that does not shut up.  Finding my inner Zen seemed like an impossible task, given my mind's propensity to throw in all kinds of random images, songs and scenarios at any particular moment.  And, truth be told, I had attempted meditation a couple of times, before.  I usually either got the giggles (nervous laughter, rather than any kind of comment on the act of meditation, I swear), or I failed to get my noisy brain to be quiet enough for it to be at all effective.

So, to say that I was sceptical would probably be an understatement.  But, I was also angry, depressed and dealing with a whole heap of grief, following the events of the last four months.  So, I shrugged my shoulders and told my counsellor: "Why not try it?"

A weird thing happened.  After the first few moments of awkwardly chewing on the inside of my mouth, to stave off the giggles (I swear, I giggle nervously at the most inappropriate times...), my body seemed to sink into the chair and my breathing slowed.  I relaxed so much that my head dropped down and my mouth hung open (seriously, I think there might have been some drool issues...).  

I started to see things through my mind's eye, and not just the usual plethora of absurdities my brain likes to treat me to throughout the day, but a clear image of myself in silhouette, with certain parts of me lit up, like thermal imagery.  I saw a sharp, green rectangle in my belly and a deep red slash across my chest.  And then, as I breathed slowly and relaxed further, the rectangle became an oval.  It began to shrink.  And, somehow, with it shrank the gnawing stress pains I'd been having in my stomach for weeks.  The red line through my chest began to soften and my breathing seemed easier.  I'd been having terrible trouble with my asthma in the aftermath of all that had gone on in my personal life, but right there in that moment, I could breath freely and deeply.  An image of the former friend who had caused me so much pain, appeared in the front of my silhouette's head, before slowly disappearing towards the back of it, as though my subconscious mind was trying to tell me that it was time to try to forget and move on.

Now, I'm not exactly the sort of person you'd expect to be going all New-Age on you.  Like I said, my brain is usually full of bizarre images and noisy thoughts.  I stress over things way too much to think of myself as someone on the path to enlightenment, or anything like that.  But as I walked home from that first counselling session, I felt my footsteps were lighter than they had been on the way there.  And not just because I'd talked everything through (although that definitely helped; hearing someone unconnected to the situation say "this is not your fault.  The other person was in the wrong," was something I had desperately needed).

Pictured: Me before the counselling.

The thing is, I couldn't get the meditation out of my head.  The sensation of letting go associated with it, the things I had visualised during it, the lightness I'd felt after it...  I hadn't really ever felt anything like that before, and I wanted to feel it again.

And so, I went to my natural habitat: YouTube (by the way, I have a YouTube channel, which you should definitely check out, if you haven't already).  It turns out that there are literally hundreds, probably thousands of meditation videos on there, just waiting for you to click play and drift off...

Since that first successful meditation, I've been on, to use literally the biggest cliche in The Big Bumper Book Of Cliches, a journey of self-discovery.  

You may now take a moment to judge me for using that phrase.

I have lost my "You may now take a moment to judge me" Phil gif, so have Dan instead.

The thing is, I'm still very early on in this new discovery.  Meditation for me is still very hit and miss.  I've started trying to do it at least 2 or 3 times a week before bed and in one particular week, I went from a night in which I fully relaxed and my subconscious mind caused me to see things I had long forgotten and access feelings I had been keeping bottled up, all of which was surprisingly freeing, to a night in which I became so enraged by the narrator on the video I had playing, pronouncing "anxiety" as "angshuty," that I ended up stopping the video and going onto Twitter for an hour, instead.  

Guess which night resulted in a more restful sleep?!

Sometimes, my noisy brain still doesn't entirely let me drift off into a meditative state.  There are nights when I'll be lying in the dark, eyes closed, limbs relaxed, all ready to go, when a voice in my head will start sniping: "Dear GOD this video is soundtracked by a lot of pan-pipes.  What is it with bloody meditation and pan-pipes?!  And this person is standing way too close to their microphone.  How can I relax and find inner peace when I can literally hear their lips smacking when they talk?!"

And on those nights, I'm learning to either ignore that voice for long enough that it gets bored and goes away, or to stop and try again another day.

Because, I've come to realise that for every night where I don't entirely let go and have a blissful, relaxing experience, there'll be a night on which I do.  A night where I'm genuinely surprised by where my mind takes me, or by how relaxed my body feels when the meditation is over.

I guess what I'm trying to say, is that trying this thing that I really didn't expect to work, has been something of a revelation.  And it only confirms to me that we should try new things and test the limits of we think we might be capable of.

As for me, well, I have a long way to go.  The anger and frustration I've felt as a result of the way people I loved have treated me is beginning to slide into sadness.  It's no easier to deal with, but I suppose at least I'm moving through the grieving process, however long it takes.

I'm just glad that I now have an extra tool I can use, when things all get too much.  I can close my eyes, press "play" on a guided meditation video and just... Relax.

Well, as long as the narrator doesn't stand too close to the microphone.  

It's a work in progress...

Bedtime Story (29/3/2017)

There is a huge difference between a little white lie and a huge untruth that has the capacity to hurt someone or negatively impact on their life.  Honesty is so important to me, that it's something I think children need to be introduced to as a concept from a young age.  With that in mind, I thought I would write a story about telling the truth - and what happens when you don't.

Click here to listen to this week's bedtime story as a podcast.

Lily's Lies

Jenna's birthday party was coming up,

But Lily didn't want to go.

And yet, each time Jenna mentioned it,

Lily hadn't the heart to say no.

She knew, deep down, she should tell the truth.

After all, isn't that what friends do?

But she couldn't bring herself to do it, and so,

She just let poor Jenna stew.

Eventually, Jenna could wait no more

And she asked Lily to put her straight.

Lily had been trying to think of an excuse,

But now it was clearly too late...

"I was going to come," Lily said,

"But then, I remembered I have stuff to do.

I'd have loved to have been at your party, Jenna,

But it's actually Dad's birthday, too!"

Now, Jenna's dad and Lily's dad,

Had been friends for many years.

So, Jenna knew that wasn't true,

And her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Don't you want to come, Lily?"

She quietly asked her friend.

"If you don't, please just tell me;

It doesn't have to mean the end!"

But Lily was now stuck in her lie

And felt she couldn't get out.

"No, really, Dad's like the Queen;

Two birthdays a year!" Came her shout.

Jenna frowned back at her friend.

"Lily, I know that's not true.

I'd rather you just told me the truth;

After all, I'd do the same for you!"

But Lily just twiddled her thumbs

And stuck her nose in the air.

"The truth is I would have come," she said,

"If I didn't have to cut my dog's hair."

She shrugged her shoulders as Jenna blinked:

"He's ever so fluffy, you see.

And he won't sit still for anyone else,

So the only one who can do it is me."

Jenna opened her mouth to reply,

But she was too stunned to form any words.

Lily's lie had started out silly,

But now it was getting absurd!

And yet, Lily carried on:

"I can't be at the party, I'm afraid.

Because it takes an hour to cut my dog's fur,

Then he has to go the vet's to be weighed."

Jenna's face turned pale and she frowned:

"Why don't you stop telling lies?!

If you'd just been honest, I'd have understood!

But these untruths were a nasty surprise."

"Look, I know parties aren't for everyone,

And if you don't want to come, it's okay.

But I'm really sad you didn't tell me the truth.

It shouldn't be that hard to say!"

By now, Lily felt guilty,

But a little bit angry, too.

She didn't like being told off by her friend,

And she wondered what she should do.

"Fine, I didn't want to go,

But now you're just being mean!

I'm surprised by your behaviour

And I'm going to tell the world what I've seen!"

And so, Lily marched off to school,

Shouting: "Jenna is picking on me!

Can you believe it?  I did nothing wrong!

I'm as innocent as can be."

And as Lily's bad mood continued to grow,

So did the story, as well.

She added something different

To each person she chose to tell.

"Have you heard the story of Jenna's birthday?

I told her that I couldn't go.

And when she heard that I wouldn't be there,

She punched me, right in the nose!"

Lily would groan to all who'd listen:

"I've been treated so terribly badly.

If it wasn't for having to wash my mum's socks,

I'd have gone to that party, gladly!"

Lily was so keen to keep growing her story,

Rather than ever admit she was wrong,

That by end of the school day,

She had everyone singing the same song.

"Poor Lily, she tried to let her friend down

As gently as she possibly could,

But then Jenna smacked her and called her such names...

I'm shocked that a so-called friend would!"

And Jenna?  Well, Jenna felt terribly sad.

She knew Lily's lies were not true.

And worse, she knew people believed some of them.

What was she going to do?!

Well, that's the thing about telling lies.

Eventually, those lies are seen through.

And it's ever so tiring to keep on pretending,

So being honest is the right thing to do.

In time, Lily's stories got so overblown

That only a few people believed them.

And Jenna just kept on telling the truth,

Knowing their friendship would never be even.

Eventually, Jenna had her party,

And it was ever so much fun.

And although she missed Lily a bit,

She knew those lies couldn't be undone.

But the presents and cake and happy faces

All served to Jenna as proof,

That lying can only cause heartache,

And real friends tell each other the truth.

THE END