When I started this blog I was young. Everything about my mindset was young. I wanted to write a blog and I wanted it to be the best thing that people had read. I wished it to be immediately perfect and immediately successful for me. I was naïve. I can tell you that the me now, sitting in my living room. My head turned to the right staring out of the window. The weather is miserable, raining not too heavily but enough that if you stay out there for a few seconds the cold dollops will make your clothes and hair wet and clingy. The whole sky is grey. Yet I’m feeling quite cosy in my home that is tucked into the back corner of the cul-de-sac. A fluffy husky tucked up at my feet, the other one perfectly settled in her bed, and just finishing my hot-chocolate. That I am genuinely not the same as back when I started this blog.
Reflecting on me.
I am a person who enjoys learning something new. However, I never seem to have a good experience in education. I would never return to High School, College, or University. In high school, I was bullied, the girls appeared to dislike me because I was good at sports. The guys just apparently didn’t like me. I remember walking home with my Dad. It was dark but I was coming back home from a friend’s house. A friend who was the same age as my younger brother. There were a gang of boys from my school. They recognised me, and decided they were going to shout ‘Jess, you slut’. My Dad is a wonderful man who helped me feel better after my heart sunk, because he turned around and he was going to face them for it. The pleasure I saw with all of them shitting themselves and running away will never be forgotten. I love my Dad, a man who would come and get me, no matter where I am. Kind of like Bryan Mills from Taken, but balder. I wasn’t a slut.
Slut (Noun) – 1. Offensive; a woman who has many sexual partners. 2. Dated, derogatory; a woman with low standards of cleanliness.Google dictionary
I washed every morning before school. And I had not had sex. At all. I’m not overly sure where that came from except that they wanted to call me the worst thing they could think of. This was made worse by the girls that were girlfriends to these boys asked me about it the next morning. Their reaction was false and so disingenuous that I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. *Gasp* ‘That’s awful’ *put hand over open wide mouth*. Regardless of this, I did alright in high school my grades were not horrendous and I had two favourite people in that school. One was the school Librarian. The other was my English teacher. It was a shame that I didn’t follow that English background I seemed to enjoy… I stupidly went for the sciences.
College, I was not bullied, but this was the first signs of teachers weren’t that great. They weren’t nasty. Just one in particular didn’t want to listen to me. My physics teacher. Oh wow, I failed physics. I was failing physics so badly that my body physically rejected it. I fought to stay awake but I just couldn’t. I understood the basic premise of physics, the theories behind it, but as soon as it came to the maths, which if anyone has watched ‘The Big Bang Theory’ a huge bulk of physics is maths! Weird equations that really shouldn’t be a thing. Those of you that understand and can look at a physics equation and understand it, I salute you, because I just didn’t understand it. But the teacher told my parents that I could do it, I just wasn’t trying hard enough. I remember sitting there dreading what this meant for me. It meant extra classes. In physics. *Silently screaming on the inside*. This was also the time I had my two bad boyfriends. (Not at the same time). The first was a guy that I thought was nice, but the longer we spent together the more embarrassed I started to feel with everything he said and everything he did. I tried really hard to not be because it’s awful to think that he was just embarrassing. But… he just got worse that in the end I could barely tolerate him when he interacted with anyone else that didn’t know him. He liked to think that he knew everything, and knew how to do everything. *Face-palm* Unfortunately he was my first. I regret it hugely, and every time I think about it I cringe and want to hide. We ended because he kicked me. He did a lot of things that girls would have left him for. But I got to the point in which he hit me and that ended it. The second one didn’t hit me, but he was abusive just in the mental sort of way. Again, he seemed nice, and he didn’t embarrass me like the first one. But! he just gradually got worse the longer we stayed together. Major mothers boy, we had to ask her permission to use his car. One night I missed the last train, I had to pay her £20 for him to drive me home. They would hide everything that they thought was valuable at their home because I was from a particular area of the country which yes, I will agree is dodgy, but they had not even met me at that point. Then it got to University and he wanted me to be in contact with him the whole time. To even sleep with it on. And I did because if I didn’t the grief I would get was just not worth not doing it. He made me so lonely, and he made me so self-conscious about myself because I wasn’t a girly-girl. Then I got my dogs. I didn’t consult him with this decision actually he had nothing to do with it, he wanted me to get smaller dogs, when I always wanted huskies. The day he got jealous of the puppies because my time and focus went into them I had no time for him. That was when I knew this was over. I tried to end it once and he blubbered and cried at me until I agreed not to end it. Then a few months later he went away with ‘friends’ and slept with another girl. We both ended it mutually on the basis that we were just in different places. But he then called me a couple of weeks later to admit something I already knew. That he had slept with another girl. I didn’t feel any different, nothing about him leaving my life changed anything.
University, I was a lot older than then. I was also with a boyfriend, who has become my life partner and I intend to stay with him for the rest of my life. But, this was the moment that I realised that some people just shouldn’t be teachers. I had applied to do a fast track course which was a mini two month course to help people get onto a university degree course who may not necessarily have the qualifications to do so. I received an email requesting a creative and critical piece. I didn’t know what the second one meant. I had to ask someone who taught English in school. She didn’t know what it meant. But I submitted something that I thought best did it. And then I was invited to an interview. The teacher was a creative writing lecturer, and she asked me to come in because she wasn’t sure if she should allow me on the course because I was very creative but not critical because the critical piece she had asked for wasn’t right. Except I told her that I didn’t have any other information to go off, the email just stated a critical piece… there was no explanation about it. That was my first heart dropping moment of doubt that never really went away. I would find out later that there was another person that was applying to do English literature with creative writing under the fast track route and she begged him to join the full creative writing course. My confidence had already taken a hit, this just made my confidence plummet to nothing.
Around this time at university I joined a pole fitness and aerial society which is what led me to eventually become an instructor and run a business. I think the pole fitness and aerial fitness classes were the only things helping whatever was left of my confidence stick around. I’m good at sports to a certain degree, I usually have a good understanding of my body. The only thing that I am still to this day not so great with is my flexibility.
Continuing on from my time at university, things grew less and less promising for me, my creative work would grade very well but my critical projects were still just about passing. There were only three years to my degree and it was only in my second year that I had a tutor who actually noticed that I just needed a little bit of extra guidance and I was too ashamed to ask for it myself. Not that anyone should be ashamed in asking for help, I don’t believe that, my brain attacks me with guilt that there are people who are worse than me and that I should just be able to do it myself. And I think he realised this aspect about me, so he forced the issue of having regular weekly meetings with me. My critical assessments boosted a whole grade up. It was fantastic, and my creative work was still doing really well. I had even wrote a short story piece that made everyone who read it gasp. Everything really crumbled in the third year however. My trust in any of the tutors broke down, the tutor that really helped me in my second year left to do bigger and better things, which meant that I didn’t have someone who I felt comfortable with going to see regarding my assessments. My attitude towards myself grew darker. What also didn’t help was that my Gran had fallen ill. She had nearly died. It was a miracle she had managed to survive the emergency operation, that the doctor said was serious damage control rather than fixing anything. But around that time, we were due to make a large written project, I had spoken to my personal tutor that I felt that the tutor for that project concentrated more on one persons project than the rest of us, which was ignored and he didn’t believe. I then had a meeting with another tutor to ask for advice on a creative piece I was writing for an assessment, I had already got the idea down, it was a first rough draft, it would have needed quite a bit of finessing before it was ready but I wanted to really make the effort to get this year right. Instead he focused on the assessments that had already been submitted that I couldn’t change or do anything about. I had tried to pull him back to the piece that I was working on. Something about this frustrated him I think. He tore into everything about the piece that I had been working on. It actually had felt like he had ripped into the last dregs of my self-confidence and made sure there was nothing of it left. I walked home after that meeting crying. And… probably much more to my detriment, I didn’t go back. I submitted my assessments, but I never returned to another lecture. I actually never really wanted to set foot onto the grounds at all ever again. I was made to feel even worse about this moment because I had emailed in requesting a time extension on the big project because my Gran had fallen very ill at the time that it was due. I had known that other students to email requesting an extension purely because they were stressed and they got it. Well, I received an email response afterwards stating that I would need to provide proof that I was my Gran’s carer in order to get the extension… What? Why? Much to my frustration I emailed a reply stating that I wasn’t my Gran’s carer and so could not prove it. I submitted my big project, it wasn’t where I wanted it to be, but I submitted it all the same.
I never went to my graduation. I couldn’t bare the idea of going knowing that I didn’t do all that well, and honestly I just never wanted to see those tutors again. I am a person led by guilt, and self-embarrassment.
I do enjoy learning new things. And I would like to learn new things in the future. However, it would have to be self-taught, because as I have written my schooling experiences have been not the best. I don’t altogether know what that means for me as a person. But that is my experiences with schooling.
Another awful thing about me.
I am one of those people that loves waking up early to be productive. The earlier I am awake the more I get done. However, if I write a plan, and don’t wake up on time, or something interrupts that plan, I stress out and don’t do anything that I had planned for that day. Or I will give up certain aspects that I think I can get away with sacrificing. The first thing to usually go is my own self-care. To save time when trying to do everything is food. I would usually stop eating. The only reason I would have at least one large meal a day was because my partner would pick up on the fact that I had not eaten and would get a takeaway for us to eat. This grew into an awful habit of not cooking and just eating nothing but crap. Which is where my weight gain came from. We both grew fat because of my stupid mindset of skipping meals to get everything done in a day.
This has led to the both of us trying to change our lifestyles. A permanent change to become healthier versions of ourselves than what we currently are. This has meant going to the gym three times a week in the early hours of the morning. Eating better. Well, I say better, I am a fussy eater so it is harder to become healthier when you barely like anything.
Over the years since beginning this blog I have learnt to not have any real expectations that anything I do will be anything good. Or even productive. I have grown negative and cynical. Anything that I might write in a positive light will probably sound forced and naïve. It will also not last very long. I will try my best but something can very easily knock me off any confident standing that I may have about myself.
If this is something you don’t mind reading than welcome. I hope you can enjoy whatever it is that I have to say about… well… anything. I will be focusing on set things so my fitness in whichever aspect or shape that may take over the next coming years. Books whether it is about the fact that I am trying to write one or the books that I am currently reading. And my life. This topic will be a little miscellaneous. But if I put it under my life it helps me feel just that little bit more organised. It will probably just a boring weekly update on myself, but it is something that lately I feel like I need to express. And I haven’t been able to express it openly in the way that I would like to. This does mean that I will probably be ranting like a petulant child. But hey, who doesn’t.
I did sign up to be an affiliate of Waterstones. All this means apparently is that I have a link that you can click on to buy books from Waterstones. I will put it at the end of the book posts. I don’t know if it’ll make sense but I will give it a go.
We are in December so of course all the festive reads are out and ready for Christmas. Handpicked by Waterstones Booksellers there is a wide variety for everyone to enjoy and indulge in this Christmas.
I don’t have any expectations that this will make any difference to me or my blog or to you the readers. However, I am hoping it will at least look a little bit more organised, and maybe just a bit professional. Anyway, thank you so much for reading. I hope this helped you understand a little bit about me.