My Bucket List

Following interest in my Thirty things to do before Thirty list here's the list that I'm now obsessing over.  There isn't a time limit on it this time - well not in the same way.  There's a deadline, I just don't know when it is...

I've been really fortunate to travel and do some pretty cool stuff but also I don't want to have a list of things that are dependent on me having a serious amount of disposable income.  That's pretty discouraging particularly as for the foreseeable future I'm living on a shoestring.  

So for those who asked, here is the work in progress split into two categories; simple and expensive.  Feel free to steal any ideas and let me know if you have others I should add!  

Simple Significant Ideas	Big Crazy Ideas
Climb Snowdon	Visit Denver, Colorado
Sail independently	Visit Vancouver
Watch 10 documentaries on subjects I’m not interested in	Eat at Michelin Star Restaurant (not pub)
Learn to alter clothes properly	Do skydive
Grow hair long again at some point	Go to international rugby match
Skinny Dip	Learn to ride a motorbike
Make a will	Go Parasailing
Do a sportif	Go up in an air balloon
Learn to build something (like the bed I now need)	Publish my own writing
Write to significant people I’ve lost touch with	Watch a live recording of a TV show
Do another 3 week detox	Do a NYE in Edinburgh
Volunteer in a charity shop	Go on a last minute road trip and book accommodation on the way...
Be part of a play	Ride in a helicopter
Watch a sunrise and sunset in the same day	Go on a led retreat
Sing karaoke in public	Hike in Scotland
Play cello at a public performance	Cycle Coast to Coast
Plan my own funeral
Plant a tree
Make ice cream
Fill in my autobiography book (and remember what I have done not just what I want to do)
Be blonde just once
Wear heels everyday for a month
Learn something crafty (craftsy course?)
Read 10 books on subjects I don’t know about
YouTube vocal teachers and strengthen voice
Read all the books I own
Learn a 20 minute yoga routine
Learn the rules of poker
Draw something frame-able http://www.learn-to-draw.com/
Get typing speed up http://www.learntyping.org/
Do a cooking course http://www.chef2chef.net/learn-to-cook/
https://www.futurelearn.com/courses/upcoming

Moving on.

I'm a sucker for markers and I'm feeling profound on this, the last day of my twenties. Not in the slightest bit concerned about age, but with a chapter closed and new one to be marked.  I'm trying to avoid holding myself to a set of expectations, to what security and achievements I might have hoped to be celebrating today.  

I'm desperately holding to the idea that being unsettled is a gift, that growing in my honest brokenness is to be embraced and that life is found in the falling and failing as much as in the surges of success.

Don't get me wrong, I could make a list of things I'm really proud I've done, moments I treasure and experiences I feel incredibly fortunate to have behind me.  But I guess I find it difficult at this unsure point in time to not wish I had a little more to take with me as the page turns.

Anyway, a year ago I made a list of things to do before I turned 30.  Some people don't need or like these kinds of things but it has encouraged me to steer around some of the 'I meant to do that', 'I would have like to do that', 'I wish I had done that' excuses that I want so deeply to avoid.  

On one hand I take massive risks, can be impulsive and make things happen.  On the other, I find it too easy to back away from the uncomfortable, procrastinate and am cautious about taking and making opportunities.  Sometimes I need one half of me to hold the other in check.

I'm glad I did the list, and I will miss it.  I hope I can keep the spirit of ticking things off in my mind, that I can be deliberate about living.


30 Things To Do Before I'm 30

1. Bodyboard:  Done.  And surfing (nearly)

Look, I made bread.

2.  Make real pasta:  Done, but fairly inedible.  Turns out I enjoy making bread though, so that's one carb I may conquer.

3.  Try sushi:  Done, not too fussed about it.

4.  Wax legs:  One of those things that really is as painful the first time as you expect.  Tick.

5. Cycle to Exeter:  And some...

6.  Pay for a strangers' coffee:  This made me more anxious than it probably should have done, I was worried about someone turning me down or catching me at the door to call me a weirdo as I tried to leave with some subtlety.  In the end I gave a cafe £5 and asked them to take it off the bill of the next person who paid for something.  It felt nice but certainly more uncomfortable than it should have done...

7.  Read five novels: done

8.  Go to the dentist:  Now see, I have a bit of a phobia and I have put this off hugely (for about 8 years).  I got a registration form twice and genuinely lost it... but finally have an initial appointment next week.  I am 87% sure I'll get there.

These two 'helped' with the list...

9.  Sail independently:  Unfortunately I didn't even get on the water this year.  This is the kind of thing that strongly depends on other people and the ducks didn't align...  This summer, for sure.

10.  Sew a cushion cover and 11.  Sew a bag:  I did attempt this a couple of times over the year but my sewing machine needs a more experienced eye to make it behave properly.  However this week my mum and I sat down and cut out the bag, and tomorrow I'm taking my machine for her to fix and a bag and cover we shall make.  I don't really have the patience for fiddly things and struggle with precision on anything other than a computer...  but I'd love to be a confident sewer.  This is a good step.

12.  Blow up a balloon without crying:  Shut up.

300 miles DONE

13.  Clear out DVDs and misc nonsense:  Done.  

14:  Have a dinner party:  Some friends old and new came together and put up with my weird concoctions.  At a point I was feeling quite reclusive I was glad this was on my list to encourage me to reach out.  And no one got ill.

15.  Make a cake: Beetroot and Chocolate.  Boom.

16. Do a cycle challenge:  Have I not mentioned this recently?

17.  Watch all of West Wing:  I got into Netflix and watched a fair amount of other top notch drama.

18.  Paint a picture:  Done, and no I'm not showing you.

19.  Buy some jeans that fit:  Complicated one; thanks to the cycling my body shape changed a lot so I have had jeans that have both fitted and not throughout the year.  Exciting stuff.

20.  Climb Snowdon:  Left it too late and decided it was unwise in Jan or Feb.  Another one for this summer though.

21.  Send an anonymous gift: Done.

Rugger with Pa 

22.  Create the book of my life so far:  This was to encourage me to scan in all our family albums, which I have done.  Good thing I had the deadline as it pushed me to keep going, our photos are very precious and I shall be making lots of photobox gifts for a long time to come as well as my own 30 Years Smilebox.

23.  See Arsenal play:  Not on my salary.  But watched a game on TV.

24:  See Exeter Chiefs play:  Done, against London Irish (who lost) with my dad.  Good times.

Upcycletastic

25.  Go to a music concert: I did, with my brother.  Baka Beyond, world music.  Cultured.

26.  See a comedian live: Several, in Dublin with my bestie.

27.  Upcycle a piece of furniture:  Loved this one, if I had space I'd have upcycled my hear out all year.

Buried treasure

28: Swim in the sea:  Done, in the South China Sea.

29.  Bury some treasure:  Done, no I'm not telling where.

30.  Watch the top ten movies ever:  There are a few that I should have seen and clearly it's objective so having consulted 'the internet' I have now seen: Breakfast at Tiffany's, Pulp Fiction, The English Patient, Reservoir Dogs, Schindler's List, Rain Man, Annie Hall, The Dark Knight, Talented Mr Ripley, Erin Brockovich.   


So that's it - 21 Ticked off and 5 pending/gave myself a half point.

Now, what to do with the next 30 years...?

Changing the world

I've been trying to write this post for a week, unable to work out what it is I want to say.  You see, I started this year by spending a few weeks moping.  Good quality, fully invested mopedom. I looked at the Kingdom of Mope, staged a coup and became Ruler.

Then over the space of a week I abdicated, choosing to slowly return to the Real World.  The World in which I am not in charge or control but I probably stand more chance at reaching some of my potential.  As you can imagine, I'm desperate to write a list of some kind, bullet pointing how I got from one world to another.  But instead I have two evolving insights;

For the past months I've been taking a little more notice of articles about mental health and on the whole have found them, and the mere fact they exist in mainstream discourse, a comfort.  When I saw Ruby Wax was blogging from her own depths and the way she was received on social media by people crying 'yes, exactly' I was inspired by her courage not just to write it, but to wait it out.

I did let myself wallow a bit, and a bit too long.  But the new twist was that I didn't let it add to the wonky voices that so regularly convince me I'm worthless.  Just an illness.  Just waiting it for it to pass, like the clouds.

Secondly, I have learned how sensitive I am to inconsistency and to change.  Depression makes you constantly measure yourself to the external and the more things around you change, the more it makes your confidence wobble.  But if I need consistency from other people, I really have to apply it to my values.  After a fortnight in Wallowsville I remembered that no one was going to come and save me.  There were gorgeous people with hands outstretched to me, but no one was going to lift my arm up to meet them.

Bottom line?  Depressed or not, I'm a better person when my world doesn't revolve around me.  When I hold on to the smallest shred of knowledge that I am able to still give something at my lowest, rather than give nothing when I'm hiding under my duvet, I get just enough motivation to sigh 'nothing to lose' and start making contact with the scary Outside Land.

A few scary steps taken and the simple fact that the clouds were on the move and I'm ending the month in a different place.  I'll probably pop back to Cloudy Town sometime but I won't panic.  I may write a bad review... but I'll keep my eye on the horizon and stick to my guns; no one can take the initial steps out of there but me.  So when I'm ready, time to get trudging.

One final thing, if I may.  I got some feedback suggesting I stop 'adding to the whingers on the internet'.

I started this blog at a point in my little life where I believed that everyone can make a real difference to our world, whatever part we play.  Over the past year I've doubted that I might be included in that assertion.

People like Stephen Fry and Ruby Wax and so many others are changing the face of mental health, making those who feel they are struggling and unimportant know that they are not alone - far from it in fact.  The more people who talk about it, admit to it and normalise it the better.  What if we could take the stigma away from depression so that we can deal with the illness head on?!

I'm not famous or influential, but in joining in that conversation, adding to the movement; I am in fact trying to changing the world a little.


Thank goodness. I do not have the brain space to think of a new name for this blog....

The fog will lift

The fog will lift, I keep telling myself

Forcing out the breaths while waiting it out

This is not an insurmountable state

A vacuum pulling me from myself

It is not spiralling beyond hope

Despite the dark’s insistence it will win

Days may be empty but not wasted

The sun sets and rises or eyes adjust

Hope is not in overcoming or escape

But in the collection of tear soaked scars

And not because they make you stronger

This is seeing life in all its colours

Enduring happiness is not success

Any more than avoidance of sorrow

Bruises hint of a heart that is engaged

Though it’s ache might cast a deep shadow

The fog will lift and though it may linger

Dancing in my peripheral vision

This is stormy weather I must get through

For now I breathe and wait for what comes next

The inevitable 'catch up and review' type post

This time a year ago I was in Bogota. Contemplating life, the world and another year I had escaped for three weeks to try and get a grip on why I was so increasingly unsettled.

Of course I had a complete overhaul and massive revelations that changed the course of my life entirely.  Ok hardly, but it did start me off down a track of vulnerable honesty and deconstruction.

It's a very difficult place to be in right now, looking at the determined lists and resolutions I made in what I assumed would the the low point that led to the high.  Now I know it was the beginning of a year of falling apart and sharing my weakness, and that the lows were far from the bottom and anything other than fleeting.

It's hard to ignore the instinct that tells me this year has been a failure, that I've not achieved what I set out to do.  In fact I'm taking apart big chunks of my comfortable life partly to move forward - but also because I can't carry on.  That's a horrible feeling.  To know that a year on I'm still not ok.

It's safe to say that my pride has been to diminished to nothing this year; I've had to be too honest to hold on to any illusions of togetherness or success.  After ten years of independence I've had to ask my parents to look after me again, and am forever asking friends to forgive me for hiding from them.  The title of this blog stings as I go part time to try and find the energy to build myself up again.  At the very height of insecurity I'm choosing to give up having any disposable income and giving up my home.

It's not a bucket list or handful of New Years' resolutions that I need this year.  It's not that I'm directionless or bored or lazy.

'No human, you can't
go back to bed.'

I'm broken and I'm scared.

So what do I do? Hide under my duvet indefinitely?  Unfortunately the four legged creatures I live with won't allow this. Write some lists full of gusto and positive cliches?  Been there, done that.
Make some goals?  Falling short anymore is simply too much. Pull it together? If I could, I would have already.

By my calculations that leaves one thing; wait it out.  The one good thing about living with depression for a while is that I now know what to expect. I just have to hold back the panic and breathe.

There are always chinks of light even when the dark seems unending.
Even if the clouds never cease their lurking, there are days that seem lighter.
I cannot compare myself to anyone else, particularly on social media. (Which lies.)
There is no shame in starting again, even if this isn't starting again... it's all forward.
I genuinely prefer a blank page to a rut.  Remember this.
Hurt nurtures compassion,  This is the time to become a really really nice person.
I don't have to be sorted yet, if ever.  I am allowed to muddle through.
It'll be ok.  It will.

And why I am broadcasting this quite so publicly? Because feeling ashamed feeds the dark.  Making depression a taboo also further stigmatises it. Talking about it shines light on how common it is to feel out of control and useless.  Because whatever I may feel on any given day, what I've documented reminds me that I am not completely lost, that I've had moments of clarity and hope - maybe even wisdom. I'm not whinging, I'm fighting.  I'm not pushing a sob story, I'm telling a real story.  I don't want attention, I want it on the record that I'm not going to give up.

Happy, terrifying, New Year.  There is more to come.

Christmas is not about being happy.

My love / hate relationship with Facebook is getting increasingly lopsided.  I love it for the sharing of articles and campaigns I'd never otherwise see, witticisms of my esteemed network and the opportunity to stay connected with people that my dis-organisation in non cyber life would let slip off the radar.

However, and I'm not the first to say it, it is an impeccable device for self harm.  Want to feel like you are boring, less successful and less popular than a load of your peers?  Check out your newsfeed.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against the sharing of adventure and happy times and achievements.  But alongside this great stuff, I wonder if we're encouraged to keep up appearances.  Maybe we're tempted to shout about the good stuff to project what we want our life to be, rather than what it is.  And possibly we end up looking for affirmation from anyone who will offer it.  Most importantly what if we're sweeping stuff under the carpet at the expense of tasting a little genuine hope?

Christmas is this incredible clash of well publicised stress and pressure to make some magic.  It is the time we push real life aside and wrap the season up nicely.  Somehow Christmas has become about being tidy and putting on a good show until its all over and the mess takes over.

Yet the first Christmas was far from tidy.  It was all about love breaking into the mess of the world and showing us hope within it.  Quite opposite of sweeping the crap under the carpet, Christmas was about looking straight at it and declaring 'there is more than this'.

If I've learnt anything this year, it's that putting your struggles out there isn't a ticket to getting out of stuff or an excuse to sit in a corner and feel sorry for yourself.  But I am holding onto the idea that embracing brokenness is where real hope lies.  It's not found in pretending that everything is fine and together, instead it is in saying 'here's my mess, I am not alone in it.'

Celebrate the great bits of life, absolutely, but not if it means pretending.  Christmas is for the strugglers, the hurting and the messy.  Joy is not found in the neatly wrapped presents and perfect roast potatoes, it's in taking a breath to declare that life is full of broken bits, and in looking for where the light is shining through.

Conscious unsettling.

I've gone quiet over the past few weeks, as I have one of my 'hide and talk to as few people as possible' phases.  As winter has finally decided it's going to visit I've been making some big decisions and trying to prepare for some scary steps ahead.  And attempting some as yet unsuccessful toilet training with puppy #2.

Having spent far too much time feeling guilty and ungrateful for feeling low when I have so much, I had to force myself to look at things a little differently if I'm going to get out of the rut.  No magical cures, but a fighting chance.

What this has come down to, I now realise, is letting go of the final vestiges of The Plan.

The Plan was the inevitable path a teenage me would take, complete with a set of assumptions about when I would marry and how many children I would have.  Right up to aged 18 all I wanted was a simple 9 to 5, 2.4.  My teenage years hardly followed the norm but surely I would slip back into the groove and all would be well and ... normal?  Adulthood hit and I went with the flow but if I'm honest the risks and decisions I made were part of my 'student years = anything's allowed before I settle down' chapter.  And then the penny dropped as the milestones and deadlines of The Plan passed and I embraced the idea that there was no inevitable.  I even started celebrating my unsettled soul and looked for ways to find myself on the edges.

I have had a extraordinarily blessed 20s, I haven't saved the world or been happy much of the time but I can't deny how much I have to be grateful for.  Somewhere in the last year or so I got comfortable and settled.  But instead of taking a satisfied breath and sending a knowing nod back in time to teenage me, my spark upped and left.

I'll never know whether depression took my spark or whether my spark leaving made space for depression.  But I know that I started settling for less and stopped pushing myself.  Because I had so much why should I want to change a thing?

Just because I have a comfortable life, doesn't mean it's right.  Just because it's a pleasant plan, doesn't mean it's my plan.  And oh yeah, there's no plan.

So bringing this rambling tale to a point of some kind, I've taken some massive and terrifying steps which will make life considerably less comfortable and rather more precarious.

I'm risking fuelling my depressive voice which will tell me that people will think I'm a failure. There's a niggling train of thought which keeps telling me I'm going backwards; undoing the nice life I've worked for.  I'm admitting that at this time, I have to take the foot of the pedal and find some life balance outside of work.  I'm declaring that I'm not as strong as my aloof persona wants people to believe I am, that I'm far from sorted and I'm weird enough to not be satisfied with what others might give anything for.

He may be cute, but he poops on the sofa.

Of course I'm scared and my ego is bruised that I can't simply move forward from strength to strength.  My hope is that moving forward in weakness will help me to find some unsettled spark that allows me to feel like I'm not wasting time, that I'm not in the wrong place being the wrong person.  That stops the gnawing guilt and the 'shoulds' that strangle creativity.  My plan is to embrace the blank pages and jump into the unknown with all I have to offer.

Fingers crossed on the puppy's toilet training too.