Work dilemma

I am in a quandary about work.
I don't know which way to go.

I *REALLY* don't know which way to go.

I have never been like this. 

I know where I want to be.... Well kinda. I had a little moment the other day where I decided I wanted my own home. I didn't expect that thought!! I actually thought I wanted to retrain to become an EMDR therapist. But there have been events unfolding lately... N they put a slightly different light on things.

Let me explain….

Once upon a time ago there was a girl called Rach. She had worked in a mainstream children's home for 12 years and loved it. She couldn't imagine not working in a hands on, caring capacity with kids n teenagers.

The kids she looked after had many issues n came into care for many, many reasons. Sadly, the majority of children had attachment issues and had suffered some form of abuse before coming into care. As a result, behaviour issues, sexual exploitation, criminal activity, low self-esteem, poor school attendance and attainment and substance misuse were common place.

She loved her work, advocated for the kids, battled hard, laughed lots n never forgot how blessed she was to care for and about the children others couldn’t parent effectively.

Around 3 years ago, she applied for a secondment as a Deputy Manager. She was successful in her application and moved to a new home. We shall call this home 'B'.

Rach had been happy enough at 'A', her original home. She was settled, adored her kids n felt as though she was a valued and experienced member of the staff team.

The time had come to grow professionally and she was ready for the challenge ahead.

Moving was hard. Adapting to a new home, a new team and new ethos was hard.
Leaving behind 'her kids' was hard. She had invested in them n had worked to form attachments.

Leaving them meant rejection. That is how they viewed it. Rach spent time chatting with each child, carefully explaining how she needed to be a role model, to show them that they can always reach higher, always grow. She assured them that she cared very much and just because she wasn't there didn't mean she didn't care.... That it would soon be time for them to grow and move on... That it was part of life and a natural progression for some relationships.

Rach's needs had changed, as had those of the residential service. The 2 needs could be met by 'each other'. Huzzah.

And so she moved to home ‘B’.

The move was hard; the new team were hesitant to ‘let her in’.  With focus, passion, determination, a bit of personal growth, facing challenges together, Rach settled and was accepted.  She began to grow as a manger, helped her colleagues grow, battled with Ofsted and grumpy neighbours, and somehow deputised for *ALL* the residential managers.  She fell in love with the kids and them her.

Life was good.

Life stayed good for 2 ½ years… then it was time for her secondment to come to an end.

It was time to go back.

Going back was always going to be difficult.

Stepping down, leaving another team where she had made ‘home’, leaving the kids, all of it… it wasn’t the best. There were tears at bedtime. Again!

Still, Rach had grown; she had achieved what she set out to do.  Before leaving, she had managed to wangle a place at Uni funded by her employer. This would mean she could complete the qualification needed to be a Registered Manager. Huzzah and Eek!!

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Rach’s last shift at ‘B’ was on the Thursday night.

On the Sunday her mum was rushed to intensive care.

On the Monday she started Uni.

On the Wednesday she started back at ‘A’.

The following week, Rach was being interviewed for another secondment in another home.  This one, home ‘C’ was a home for children with a learning disability.

Yikes.

It was a long long time since Rach had worked in learning disabilities. 12 years in fact.

A lifetime ago.

3 lifetimes depending on how you measured them.

Anyway, she got the job and her role became split. On a part time basis (week on/week off) she moved to another new role, another new team, another new bunch of kids to learn about and love.

But this was very different.  Some of the kids are non-verbal, some have profound disabilities and complex health needs.  But they are as equally amazing and shiny as the mainstream kids.

Rach knew she was a very lucky lady.  She had the best job ever. Sometimes it was the worst job ever.  But she didn’t know if she liked the learning disability home.

She soldiered on and wondered if her dislike was the immense difference in types of work.  She needed to know the minute details of each child, follow precise routines, but somehow manage the chaos, all the while, feeling totally out of her depth.

Just as she finished one week at home ‘C’ and felt almost as though she knew what she was doing, it was time to return to ‘A’ and play catch up again.   After a while, it took her less time to catch up, although she felt as though she wasn’t achieving anything in any of the homes.  In fact she felt like she hadn’t ‘worked’ for months.

She floundered from one week to the next, not belonging anywhere.

After a while, when her mum was back home, when Christmas had passed, when her tri training was back on track (ish), when she was almost on top of the SAD and the Uni assignments, she almost started to feel like she was making progress.

She had a handle on the kids and their cases and knew what was expected of her in her new role.

Around this time, Rach was presented with the news that there would be a maternity secondment coming up in home ‘B’ – she could go back to the home she loved, the place where she grew, a place where she was happy.

However, Rach knew that you could never move backwards – only forwards.  The manager in post now in home ‘B’ wasn’t well known to Rach, some of the kids had moved on.  It wouldn’t be the place she left.

There was another maternity post in home ‘C’ going to be advertised, approx. 3 months after her secondment finished.

There was also a permanent Deputy post likely to be advertised in home ‘C’.

The dilemma was, did Rach apply for the secondment in home ‘B’ or did she take the risk and apply for something she still wasn’t sure of in home ‘C’?

As this is being written, certain answers are leaping out – and she is almost certain of the next steps…..

She doesn’t know if it will get her to the place she wants to be – but she has faith in the Universal plan.  If she is meant to get there, she will. And if she doesn’t – she will be where she is meant to be.

To be continued……

There has been a new model of parenting proposed… well, it was proposed years ago.  We have been in the will we, won’t we phase for what feels like ages.  Can we afford it? Will we benefit from it? Do we need it? Why aren’t we working like this anyway?

One of the very real concerns is that it will not be bought for the learning disability homes.  They run very differently. 

They are already Outstanding.

Sat in the briefing, I had internal fireworks.  This was a light bulb moment.  

The programme sounds amazing.  It sounds like everything I have ever wanted to work within, like the residential work I envisaged when I started. It sounds like it will produce real results for our kids. More than the containment service we currently provide as best we can.

It is backed by science and fuelled by human goodness.

I want to be a part of it.

I am worried if I leap the wrong way, if I selfishly go for stability and apply for the post of permanent deputy, that I will miss out.

I am worried that when a Registered Managers post becomes available it will be in mainstream and I will be in the wrong place. 

I spoke to someone I respect about this the other day, they suggested that due to the nature of the staff team and the strange beast that is residential, the team would sabotage me if I progressed within ‘A’.  I think they were right.  They would.

If I don’t do this (which is pretty much all I have done in my adult working life) what do I do instead?

What do I want to be when I grow up?

I always said that if I don’t do this, which I once referred to as zoo-keeping; that I wanted to join the circus.

I have said for a while that I am going to join/run away with the circus…. Join the circus or do science.    

I would like to make science for a living. Science makes me giddy. It always has.

Sadly, it also makes my brain explode.  So I wouldn’t be very good at it……

I have to have faith. 

I have to have faith in the Universal plan.

I have to have faith in my own abilities….. and keep my eye out for ‘jugglers wanted’ adverts…..

Running Rach

I am having a bit of a mixed relationship with running at the minute.
It batters my lungs.
It breaks my legs.
I am gonna have to learn to like it.
I need to do a lot of it n I can decide to hate it or learn to find a freedom in it.

I fully intend on doing the latter.....When that will happen is anyone's guess.

2 Sundays ago I set of on my 'long run' for the week. This wouldn't be classed as long to most people who are triathletes or runners

But it was to me.

I spent the whole run arguing with myself. Turns out, I won.... But not the me I wanted to win.
When defeatist me kicked in and uttered 'urgh', the other me didn't take much convincing to have a stop. Cos my other me was thinking the same.
Urgh.
I stopped dead. I had vowed I was running it all n I remain unsure whether walking a bit or stopping a bit is a better method. 3 stops later I was home.
Urgh Urgh Urgh.
When I moving, my pace was ok (for a non runner) but I clearly couldn't do that distance at that pace.

After much falling out with myself, I set a date for next long run, drove a route of a further distance and vowed I would run it all but would pace it better from the start.

After a long chat with TC about how to achieve this, I took her advice, dropped the pace n just kept running.

Mission accomplished.
Slowly.
Speed wasn't the goal on this occasion.
The distance was.
Huzzah!!
I was winning at running.

Following run was 'up n overs' on the dreadmill. Warm up at a 'steady pace' for 1km, run above pace for 1km, drop down the same speed for 1km, back above etc. repeat for an hour.  If i went 0.5 above, i would drop 0.5 below.
Ok. I can do that.
In my infinite wisdom I didn't account for the fact I was doing it after a 2.5km swim n only managed 45 minutes.
I didn't reach the target but I am still counting it as a minor running victory.
I was battered when I got off dreadmill n suspect I shoulda considered better fuelling before starting the run. Lesson for next time.

Friday, Bear was home n we had made plans to meet TC for a run. I had promised TC I would protect her from both his bouncing n pouncing as it was my day off.

Foot note
***For those who don't know TC stands for 'The Crush' n Bear is more than a little bit smitten with her n has been for some time. His flying leaping, spinning round bear hugs are epic

Sarah is a runner.
Bear can run.
I went for the hugs n the day out.

While running I watched TC, looking at how she carries herself, how her feet fall, her stride length. She looked (and was) light and agile, taller than she is. It wasn't natural for her to run at my pace. I could also tell Bear was struggling with my speed and faster was preferable to both of them.
When I run, I feel heavy and cumbersome. There is little to no grace in my movement. There is nothing natural about it.
I feel like a baby elephant lumbering about.
That is what I do. I stumble forward. Occasionally with purpose, occasionally with pace.
My breathing is irregular n while I have strength, I cannot seem to convert it to speed.

The little inner voice that shares my brain space and provides the commentary to my life isn't having a nice time at the minute. It feels my elephant-esq grace and converts that to negative self image and belief.
It rants and chunters and babbles and bitches.
It compares my ability to run with that of the super speedy runners in clubs, on twitter, who attend park run, the ultra runners and those with years of experience as opposed to weeks.
It ignores reason. It ignores fact.
It sees my legs changing shape and equates not being able to fasten boots or find jeans with fat, not muscle.
While running, Sarah have me tips which helped, loaned my a pair of trail shoes to try which felt like water-proof, mud-proof slippers... they were amazing.
I will be buying me a pair of these. Not only are they comfy, but they are pretty too.

I love being in the hills, I love being in the outside and I especially love being near trees and water.
So trail running seems to make good sense to me.

It will be good for my soul in the same way that open water is.

It was a glorious day out meeting TC with Bear.  It was lovely to see them together, comfortable and relaxed.  It was as though all 3 of us have known each other a lifetime already. Their friendship was easy and well established.  It was lovely to see Bear reflect and shine with another shiny soul.  It made me twinkle looking on. The day was too short and the distance to get there seemed too far... but it was so worth it. (this was magnified by broken traffic systems and grizzly bears)
TC has a natural sparkle and shine. Her advice and tips were imparted in a way that was filled with care, genuine enthusiasm and passion.
She filled me with confidence and while I was feeling like an overweight  Umpa Lumpa pretending to be an athlete, she saw progress, ability and direction.  You can't fake stuff like that.
Conversation was interspersed with handy hints and tips and pointers on becoming more competitive.

Bears version of events can be found here (along with pics of the day)  http://whosstupidideawasthisanyway.blogspot.co.uk/

I hope that next time we meet, I will be less of a let down
(yeah, yeah, I know really.... I actually wasn't..... but in my head I was on the hills)
I will be better.
I will be able to run further and faster.


Since meeting TC and since writing the majority of this blog, I ran 10k.
This was both a time and distance PB. I did it alone.
It was a doubly smug achievement as I happened to see my ex on the same day... He happened to ask about my swimming and how it was going. I told him I might need to pick his brains about running (he ran for GB at commonwealth in a previous lifetime and is still listed somewhere in the record books) Many moons ago, he told me I wasn't a runner, nor would I ever be one.... he was busy laughing at me when I told him I'd run 10k before the training course we were on.  He literally stopped mid-chortle.
That was a little bit satisfying.
I will be as satisfied when I run up Carr Lane. My dad told me I would never be able to run it. So it goes without saying that the mother of all long, steep hills is on my list of hills to run.....

I will do this.  I will do it well.... I just need to work out how to stop myself eating ALL the food afterwards.....

Christmas

I probably should put a disclaimer or apology at the beginning of this blog.... But as ever, this is my truth. Yours may be different.

Christmas.... The time of year when all the major shopping chains n every form of media in the known universe tells you that if you don't live your life a certain way, you are less of a person.
Well, obviously, they don't say it directly, but the message is there screaming silently in the background, judging.

If you don't have all the brown/beige food that is full of cholesterol, carbs and calories, if you don't have the biggest tree with every new games console, all the trendy clothes, all the toys, the latest gadgets, then don't turn up on the 25th.

It is LAW that each Christmas morning, there should be sparkle, magic n love all over this land. Everyone should get along, all families should be MAHOOSIVE and like each other. There will be no tears, no tantrums and everyone will smile like they mean it.

Even if you are Bob Cratchet and don't have 2 beans to rub together, you will still have the most loving family and life is still good on some level.

All the grumpy teenagers remove their headphones, come out of their caves and develop a sense of empathy.

Shops advertise that you can buy the perfect Christmas from them.

Frankly it is all bullshit and one of the reasons I despise Christmas.

It reinforces everything negative about being a family and emphasises the fact that actually, life is just a bit shit sometimes.

If there are presents, chances are these will be elaborate and expensive in an attempt to cover the lack of emotional goodness that is missing round the dinner table....

Or they will have cost the giver a weeks food money (or rent/mortgage payment)

Or the presents will just be a bit shit.

Or not what you wanted/needed/same as last years.

The buyer will not have listened to a word you have said and will, potentially, have bought for the sake of buying. They will have resented battling through the hoards of desperate people fighting to do the same. Chances are it will prove how little the person actually knows you.

If you are forced to spend Christmas WITH family members, I hope you like them. I hope that there is warmth and affection in abundance. I hope they love the bones of you and have seen some of the best times of your life.

I hope you have people you love that you can spend Christmas with.

I hope that the elderly people in your life, the next street, local nursing home have a friendly someone who can call on them with a happy hello n a how are you.

I hope that the nurses and emergency services know they are appreciated, as are the serving soldiers away from their loved ones.

I hope the homeless get a warm dinner and a warm welcome somewhere friendly and non judgemental.

I hope that those with learning disabilities can finally have the structure and routine they need, put back into their lives, instead of all this disturbing nonsense that builds up for 3 months and lasts a day.

I hope that those who suffer from depression don't get sucked further into the black hole by the media and social hype of a Wednesday at the end of the month, at the end of the year.

I hope that all the separated parents have contact with their kids should they want it.

I hope that those who are religious have a joyous celebration of the reported birth of some dead dude who is forgotten some of the time.

***slight but relevant tangent***
If anyone could bring me some concrete evidence of a God based *being* it would be much appreciated.
I'm sure some guy called Jesus existed. I'm open to believing he was a Dr or scientist n quite a popular, clever chap. His birthday may have been December 25th. His dad may have been Joseph, who may have been a carpenter n his mum may have been Mary. They may have had a massive party when he was born n this mates may have visited.
If he was born in Bethlehem, its most unlikely he was white.
Son of some invisible entity that created everything? Immaculate conception?
Hmmm. Open to convincing.
I'd like to believe. I'm just not sure I can.

So, back to this thing we call Christmas....

If you have children or are a child at heart, I hope Santa makes all your wishes come true.

For all I am bah humbug, I secretly love Christmas. I just don't like the commercialised shape it takes.

I will be working Christmas Day. I always have. I used to do the Christmas Eve sleep-in shift.... Put the kids to bed on Christmas Eve n get them up Christmas morning.
Sleep-ins stopped n I changed my shift to do the early.

I have recently discovered that the late is my favourite shift of the year. This is the point when my shallow teenagers are bored and grumpy, the interest has worn off their presents or they have sold them for drugs (yes really). We have (or try to have) good, clean wholesome fun.
We acknowledge that Christmas is a bit shit. As is being a teenager, as is being in care. We try to make it less shit. We show them they matter, that we're happy to be with them. That we make a choice and they are worth it.

The kids I look after won't be with their families and we can't buy the things they want.

We can't make their families look like those on the telebox.
We can't give them their childhood or make all the past abuse go away.
We can't make their parents acknowledge their existence or cure the metal health issues.

But I absolutely want to spend my Christmas Day with them.

They are awesome people. They really are.

Christmas for me was always invariably an anticlimax. Then I worked out why. N now I kinda love it.... A bit.

I love Christmas Eve.
There is still the hope of magic.
There is the hope that, however briefly, there will be love displayed in some shape or form.

An honest love that sees each individual as being full of goodness and infinite possibility.
A love that sees them just how they are, not how we want them to be. Not seeing their flaws as a bad thing, seeing their flaws as part if their unique beauty.

I am blessed. And I know I am.

Christmas Eve I will see the people I love most in the world.
I will train (or play in the pool with purpose), then approx 15/20 swimmers will descend on our local cafe to have a festive feast of a breakfast. My closest friends will be there and this makes me happy.

Then, I will meet Signe for coffee and cake. (I LOVE the Scandinavian traditions)

Signe - Tak for kaffe og kage og være en fantastisk ven. Jeg elsker dig masser.

If there was snow, we would throw ourselves down the hills in Shibden Park on bin liners, Ikea bags n tea-trays.  Sadly, no snow this year. Instead we will sit in front of a toasty log fire n put the world to rights.

I love this girl.
A lot.

It's her fault I agreed to do an ironman. It is her fault I swim.
I will always be grateful.

Each year we give each other the gift of time and we have been on some amazing adventures.
These adventures mainly involve hills, tents, brown food, bad picnics n bodies of water.
The best birthday ever involved a candle lit dinner, a blowy camping experience, lots of sea swimming n too much wine in Tenby.

Next year we will do the Yorkshire 3 peaks. We have played in Scotland and Wales n the Lake District on the highest hills an in the deepest, longest coldest bodies of water. We have hunted mythical monsters and magical beings.

For the first year in about 12 years of friendship, we have decided that there will be no exchange of hand-made custom design diary covers.
These have been epic... And a major talking point for many years!!
There have been themes and stickers and glitter and sticking and cutting.

It will be missed this year, but we both agreed neither of us had time.
A testament that life is going quicker and getting fuller.

After coffee and cake, I will call and see Paul to get squishes and squashes and snogs off Ella, then I will call at my old work.
I will get more squishes and snogs from the staff I worked with and squashes from the kids.

After this I will call to see my niece and nephew and deliver the few presets I have bought, before coming home n curling up in front of the fire.

Thereafter, the evening will be quiet and undisturbed. Bear will rock up whenever he lands and will be about for however long. I hope to give the peace and sanctuary he needs right now.

And then normality can be restored.
What ever that is.

Norway

Norway in December was everything I expected it to be.
After landing some 22 hours later than planned, Bear met me at the airport with a hotdog in his hand....Luckily for me he opted to let me eat the hotdog rather than him!! What a welcome!! The hotdogs are AMAZING!!

Delays due to the windy conditions (not mine!) I flew out of Leeds Bradford late and I missed my connecting flight out of Amsterdam. Me being a lazy arse and sleeping too long the following morning almost meant I missed my rescheduled flight... Luckily for me, it had already been cancelled and rearranged for later in the day, again due to weather.

Main thing is, I made it.

Eventually.

We exited the airport to snow on the ground, white fairy lights on trees. I almost felt festive. I didn't visit for festive cheer, I went to have a slight escape n support my friend... I also went to have a rustic reindeer dinner cooked n be shown how my lodger lives versus how I live.
It seems we have VERY different standards and live in VERY different worlds.

Let me just go off on a tangent briefly.

I live in a semi-constant state of chaos. Most of my storage is visual and clutter is familiar.  Every now and then when it drives me insane, I will attack it and make it tidy, but it soon falls back into disarray. Bear on the other hand, has a minimalist thing going on.  He is a bit untidy, but doesn’t have ‘stuff’ everywhere. The nature of his work means he could have to move at any time. He has a functional, minimalist wardrobe n his stuff is necessary n functional.

Not so long since, I somehow I found myself saying to Bear, well, there is a spare room if you ever need or want it (sorry Signe I know you baggsed it first) and he took me up on it…. It seems I now have to move all the ‘stuff’ that has been gathering dust in there and make room for his 'stuff' instead.
 
This is fine… I like Bears company.  But I am sooooo lazy…and when I want to expend energy, being organised n tidy isn’t high on my list of things to do.  Besides, most of the stuff stored visually, doesn’t actually have a home and never has had one, so I cant put it away…. which is why I have so much stuff stored in the way it is.

It will do me good to get rid of some of the stuff.  I have been meaning to do it for years.  Now I have a reason to do it.

Anyway, I digress. Sorry, back to Norway.

Norway is beautiful. Bear tells me he lives in the ugly bit... I hope to visit the pretty part one day. Then I may explode. What a way to die.

There is a strange mix of mountains, glorious country side with the odd fjord thrown in, combined with housing estates, ship yards and oil works. It sounds random... And it is, but somehow it works. The houses are stunning wooden cabins, all unique, all pretty to look at., all how I imagined.

It is glorious and peaceful. It smells of open fires, ski trips and happiness.

I understand why Bear has stayed there as long as he has. It welcomes you n invites you to feel at home. Other than Switzerland, this is the only place I have though ‘I could live here’.  Except for the cost of everything. I don’t like that. But it is relative. The country is rich, its main business is oil, the cost of living is high, but so is the quality of life. Local wages reflect this.

We have had a fab weekend, playing in the snow (I lost), playing on the Xbox (I lost even though I cheated at sprinting), swimming (I lost at sprinting - nothing new there - if I didn't know I wasn't built for speed before this weekend, I do now). We also spent time mooching round Stavanger in the snow. I found a crocodile by the side of the lake. We spent too long watching brilliant films on Youtube and I pulled too many amazed faces.

Things I have learned (in no particular order) are

1) Chocolate milk cures hic-coughs,
2) Reindeer is full of tasty goodness
3) I am a travelling nightmare and liability waiting to happen,
4) Training on Bears bike isn’t the best idea in the world.  I am an umpa lumpa.  He is not.
5) Some Bears have secret fetishes for cross dressing as zebra's and will steal unoccupied onesies where possible.
6) Public swimming in Norway is like the 7th layer of hell.

How interesting can public swimming be? Well, its a tiny pool for a start, prob not 3 full lanes wide. That's fine. but there are no lanes.

It is a free for all.

And the Norwegians don’t have any manners.

None. None at all.

After more pool time with Bear I have decided that brute force and ignorance is gonna be the way forward with his swim for Norseman. Bear has no style and no finesse when in the water…. but somehow he moves. Quite quickly at times. He appears to expend a lot of energy, but that’s about how he is built and the physical limitations of his shoulders and hip. There is work to be done.  

After swimming, we returned to have the nommy lump of Reindeer that Bear had roasted with beetroot, sweet potato and onion. This is now my lump of meat of choice. Specially served with JuleBrus (Christmas flavoured juice)

I learned a lot about Bear on this trip, having Bear move in with me has been interesting to say the least, I have lived on my own too long, but stepping into Bears world has really opened my eyes.
Bear earns in an hour what I earn in a day. What he earns in day, I earn in a couple of weeks.  He is frivolous, I am frugal.  He buys what he wants and thinks little of it. I only dream of doing this. His lifestyle is minimalistic yet abundant.

He can come across as being grumpy and depressive, but on some level, he is only happy when he is miserable.
He lives very much in isolation, which can mean weeks without 'intimate' human contact (friends, family etc) so quite often there is no touch or affection in his world.
Bear is very matter of fact, so much so, he can be abrupt to the point of being perceived as being rude/bad mannered. But if it needs saying, he will say it. He can be ridiculously playful, to the point of being child-like in his laughter.
He is feircly protective of those he cares about, yet has as distinct 'lack of emotion' - its not a complete lack, but he uses Bear to keep his feelings well protected and ensure they don't get exposed.

Behind the Bear is Paul, who happens to be quite a nice chap.
It is Bear who competes, Bear who pushes past physical limits, Bear who is determined and feirce. Luckily for me, I quite often get Paul... Yet still call him Bear most of the time although it is interchangeable.

Where Bear is based its a strange place to walk round, I went for a mooch on my own before flying home and obviously went out with Bear when he was at home.  The people don’t speak. On a night the streets are deserted.  There is no noise, very little traffic. Just silence. They are not social creatures, them there Norwegians, hence so much isolation.  But they are very beautiful to look at (most of them). And tall.

I hope to go back at some point – if only to see the pretty bit and have more of a chance to poke about in it and explore.
So much water and so many mountains.

Time

Time is a very strange phenomenon that I have been thinking about a lot lately.

Sometimes it feels as though it is zooming by.

The older I get, the quicker it goes. Rationally, I know this is simply because each day is a smaller percentage of my life.

Sometimes it is frozen n the hours creep at a snails pace. 

I know when I am giddy-excited for something, time feels like it is a ten tonne weight being pulled through wet sand by a door mouse.

It drags, it is slow and lumbering.

Yet when that giddy-exciting time i have been looing forward to finally arrives, it is over in a blink.

How is that even fair?

Winter distorts time. It distorts me. It seems to be dark constantly.

Suddenly I find myself viewing the John Lewis Christmas advert wondering how it came to be 'that time of year again'. Then I realise it isn't. They are just trying to trick me.

It is still only November.... Or it was when I started writing this blog.... Time didn't allow me to finish when I wanted. Other stuff with other deadlines got in the way. 

People keep telling me that christmas is starting earlier each year.

Nope. No its definitely not. It definitely still begins at start of advent. Or Christmas Eve depending on beliefs. I'd even allow when the kids break up from school or Mad Friday.

But not November.

I am 3 weeks into 30 weeks of Outlaw training.... Or I was when I started writing this blog. I am now 4 weeks. Maybe its even 5, my track of time is so distorted currently. It passes so quickly. 

Does it even matter? 

I have lost 2 months of my life somewhere. 

It has vanished. 

Lost to hospital corridors, traffic jams, information overload n sleep.

I want to paint. No, I NEED to paint. 

I need to create, to take pictures. To be. 

Yet I haven't got time 'spare'. 

I would be rushing and then feel more frustrated than if I hadn't started at all. 

I visited a dear friend last week n opened the visit with 'I cant stay long'. That's so shit. 

A part of me wished I hadn't bothered going. I miss her though.

My fleeting visit made me miss her more. 

I spent this weekend with my other mother, Wilky. I hadn't seen her since January.

We have chatted about life, God, the Universe n David Beckham.

We have chatted about how so many lives can change so drastically in such a short space of time.

Wilky suddenly found herself retired due to ill health n currently living by the seaside. Her daughter, who was single not long since is 6 now months married, 5 months pregnant and has also had a miscarriage since getting married.

Time is playing tricks.

At the start of 2013, my life didn't look like this.

There were fireworks n the freedom from ThatMan, it wasnt meant to be n life simply got in the way. He was, and is, a lovely man. He will remain in my life as a friend. We just changed shape due to circumstance. He played a very important role in the story of my life.

He freed me. 

I suspect he doesn't have the first clue about how important he really was. But I will remain grateful for all time.

Relationships can change literally overnight.

Friends who were dear to us, drift. Often without reason, warning or a goodbye. 

Partners needs change. People grow upwards and away until we no longer recognise who they are. We have lightening bolt moments with strangers.

BOOM!! All change. There is a cartoon shaking of the head and wondering 'when did this become my life?' 

I am struggling to find time to train. Swimming is a thing I used to do at the moment.... I need to change this.  Running and cycling need more time but are terribly unpleasant for me at the moment. I am bak in the depths of SAD n unmotivated. 

The training would help the SAD and the positivity would spiral. 

I will get back on it.

When I have time.... 

Leaving the Comfort Zone

I don't know if you have ever had a near death experience dear reader?  I have.
And its true, your life *does* flash before your eyes.

It happened to me in reallllllllllly slow motion. I genuinely believed I was going to die.

My brain was busy scanning its shelves for a point in history where it could find and steal a coping mechanism that had worked.  It would deploy this successful tactic again.
My clever subconsciousness must have found one. Or invented a new one. I lived.

Coping mechanisms are funny things I have learned.
Not funny ha ha.  Funny peculiar.

They are very individualised, exceptionally personal and based on our past - the things we keep stored on the shelves in our brains.
We are products of our pasts and our perception and resilience is developed as we experience each new challenge life throws at us (or the challenges we step in front of)

The year of #FuckIt is nearly over.
It has been amazing - so much so that I am planning on carrying it on.  I have acheived so so much. Instead of being sweary and a bit potty mouthed (I blame the book of the same name), 2014 will be the year of #DoThat!

It *should* be the year of Austerity, but I just cant see the fun or appeal!! And if i say ~FuckIt this year - I have to honour it next year!!

It has become screamingly obvious that I quite like being out of my comfort zone and pushing myself as hard as I can. 

I am not competitive by any stretch... and I think this is where I have been getting it wrong, believing I should be competitive (on some level, if only with myself)
It doesn't work for me.  It doesn't motivate me.  If anything i think it demotivates me.
The fact that I am lazy doesn't help much either.


I started my new job and it was a baptism of fire.
Now don't get me wrong, I have worked in Children's Homes for over 12 years.
I have worked in lots of homes and know that they are all different, the kids vary immensely, the staff team will vary, but ultimately, they are a team of staff, caring for and about a bunch of kids.
How different can it be?

I have never known anything like it.
EVERYTHING is different. 

EV-ER-Y-THING.

The recording systems, the routines, the ethos of the home, the way information is communicated and stored.  EVERYTHING. 
The kids are also have learning disabilities. Some are non verbal. Some have complex medical needs.

What did I think I was doing when I applied for this? What am i doing stood in here?

On my first day i had frequent trips to hide in the loo and give myself a shake (and hide).  I asked myself at least 5 times an hour what I thought I was playing at.  This continued into day 2.

It wasn't and isn't a bad place to be, in fact quite the opposite.  I knew it was exceptional.  It was and is screamingly obvious that the quality of care the home delivers is spectacular.
Day 3 and 4 involved Ofsted rocking up for the annual unannounced inspection. 

Turns out, I was right. 
It is Outstanding. Officially.

I have a chance to be a part of this.  I am now a part of this. After 4 days, I wanted to weep at the pride.  I know how hard it is to reach Outstanding grading - the feedback is also very different to inadequate. I have now received both types.

So that was my first week.  I felt a fraud, questioned myself endlessly and left wondering what the hell I had let myself in for.  I questioned my ability to care for the kids.  I questioned my ability to be a manager.

The children scare(d) me.
They have complex medical needs with shortened life expectancy. 
They will bite and kick and smear their poo up the walls and in my face given half a chance (not all of them!).  I cannot meet their needs if I don't know what they are.
If they cannot tell me I am scared I will fail them.  I am scared I will get it wrong.

So, to week 2 at work.
One of the children has a cluster of seizures, close together - this isn't their 'normal'. 
We survive.
I grow.
I find myself giving staff supervision as I go, I am back 'mananging' and this is familiar - I can do this. I can mange staff who look after children with complex needs - it is just the shape of the needs that has changed. And the building. And the language everyone speaks. And the systems.....


Today I found myself at 12.45 asking what I thought I was doing, then I realised I had been in work since 7am... and this was the first time I had asked myself.

And it was only once. 
Not repeatedly.

N actually, the kids are gorgeous when you take time to look past your own fears.
Properly glorious kids.
They are full of sparkle and shiny.
They glow.

I am getting there.  I will get there.  Wherever there is. 
And so will you dear reader.  Just keep on keeping on.

The unfamiliar will become familiar. 

And sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith, believing that there will be a safety net.... or that you will soar.  Preferably the latter.

It is hard making that initial leap.

What will it feel like?
What if I fail? What if people laugh at me?
What if I lose everything? What if people judge me?
What if I don't like it? What if its too late and I cant get back?

What if its amazing? What if its the best thing ever?
What if I never look back?
What if this takes me on adventures bigger than I dared to dream of?


I ran today.... Running is fairly new and horrid.  We don't like each other very much.  But that's OK, we will learn to tolerate each other eventually. Maybe.

I ran to the point whereby at about an hour in I realised that I had gone light headed and a little bit squiffy.  I hit the point whereby I might have liked to have fallen over given a choice.

I had eaten well, I was tired but not to the point where I shouldn't be training.  Saturday had been a rest day and yesterday had been a turbo session - hard but not too bad - although I had increased the resistance.
There was no reason to be falling over.

I realised that this was possibly at the wooly edge of my comfort zone. If I had just pushed a touch more....
It has been suggested that if I had pushed more I would have rendered myself unconscious and eventually come round to find myself in a pool of my own vomit and wee!!  (Thanks TC for that wonderful imagery!!)

So I stopped before I did any of those things.

I would say, I was about to leave myself. If that makes sense.

I know I discociate.
It is my coping mechanism of choice. When the going gets tough.... I do one and leave my body to it. 

Once I leave, I find it hard to carry on.... after all I am not 'there'.
Sooooo I need to learn how to deal with that so it means I can still 'do one' and keep going simultaneously.

If anyone has any idaes about this, answers on a post card please.

1 down, 29 to go

So i survived week 1 of training towards the Half Outlaw.
I'm not properly training for that, well, I am, obviously, but its just part of a bigger plan. My Ironman plan. 

I don't know which will be my full IM, I don't need to decide that bit just yet.
For now, I need to learn how to run and cycle.... and get back to swimming fast(er)

This week started with getting up at the crack of dawn to do a turbo session - the logic being, start as you mean to go on....Attack it.  No excuses.  Key to success under the alarm clock and all that.

Monday wasn't too bad - I would even go so far as saying, I enjoyed it.  Yay me!!!
Got up, spun my legs a bit, went to work, went to the hospital, came home, fell into bed.

Tuesday came, swim session in the morning, training course, then straight to work.  I left home at 6.15am and got home a little after 10.30pm.

The plan for Wednesday didn't happen - I fully intended on getting up to train before work, but Tuesday's long hours drained me and I started at 7.30am Weds and arrived home at 22.30 again.... God this is gonna be a nightmare. 

Thursday I managed a good session in the gym - it was full of circuit work, nasty jumping about bits/plyometric work and horrid core stuff. I also need to say how much I despise the warm up I have been given.  The dreadmill is OK - I don't mind it, not really. I do mind sprinting on it. A very large lot.   I also had a nice swim session after the gym on Thursday. 

Friday morning I swam with a view to having a meaty monster of a turbo session on Friday night - but I was given grace until Saturday due to my friend cancelling, fatigue and racing about like a headless chicken with work stuff and hospital stuff.

I can't sustain these long hours.  I am tired and I am a grump when I don't do the things I want to/need to do.... like train... and rest.... when I dont do the things I should do. 

I also need to see my friends.  I miss them.

Saturday morning came the FTP test. 

It hurt. 
Lots.  Very lots.

According to the pretty graphs which @TheIron_Bear showed me how to make today, my heart rate reached 201 bpm and my training effect was 5.  I am informed that this is proof that I worked hard.

Of course I worked hard!! I thought at one point I was going to pass out n fall off the bloody bike!!!
I know what effort level 10 feels like now AND IT FRICKING HURTS.  It took me all I had to keep pushing my legs down one more time as the seconds ticked by painfully slowly from 19.40 to 20.00 mins.

I was like Bambi on ice when I'd finished the session and wobbled as I dismounted, I soon recovered and forgot my inability to walk until I ventured towards the stairs, then forgot again until I went to venture back down them.  How I didn't fall over, I will never know.  Anyway, I didn't. I have to repeat the test in 8 weeks. 

Feck.

Sunday was rounded off with a swim.

It seems, that regardless of what I planned (and it was a LOT more than I actually completed), I am not disciplined enough. 

I am a lazy athlete.  I have always been aware of this.  I want to do it, really I do, just not right now, not yet, and I certainly don't want it to hurt.

I *will* do it - tomorrow.

But it doesn't work like that. It won't do itself and I need to put the miles in the bank. I need to make the effort.  Even when I am tired, even when I'd rather stay in bed in the warm, especially when I would rather stay in bed in the warm.

The key to success *IS* under the alarm clock.  I have lots going on still and lots of unstable still on the horizon.  I need to be disciplined with myself and I need to be honest in my reflection.

Week one wasn't good enough. I didn't try anywhere near hard enough and I tossed it off at every opporchanity I could.

Grade = D -        
Must try harder. Rach allows herself to be distracted. Could be awesome if she made the effort and applied herself to her sport.